Sermon preached on the Fourth Sunday in Easter

 Acts 2:42-47; Psalm 23; 1 Peter 2:19-25;  John 10:1-10

There’s power in a Name.  If you doubt this, think about how it feels when somebody gets your name wrong.  Or ask a child what it’s like to hear their full, Christian name spoken by an unsmiling parent with crossed arms.  Names are powerful because something about your core identity, your unique and substantial presence in the world, is communicated by your name.  In fact, you may know that an early Jewish tradition forbade speaking or writing God’s name – it’s why God is always called “The LORD” in the Old Testament, because that’s a more respectful substitute. For the Hebrew people, God’s identity was bound up in God’s name, and wasn’t something to be handled, or grasped at by humans.  It was something only God had the power to reveal.  So, for example, when God confronts Moses in the burning bush and Moses asks, “Who should I say you are?  What’s your name?”  God says, “I am who I am.  I will be who I will be.” 

Given all that, isn’t it interesting that Jesus has a name?  A real, human name that can be spelled and spoken, and recorded on a census in Bethlehem.  Just by virtue of having this kind of a name, we get a sense of what Jesus is about: here’s a guy who wants to share his identity with us.   Jesus is in the world because he wants the world to know who he really is.  His proper name itself – Yeshua, like the name Joshua – sheds light on this.  It means “God saves.”  “God rescues.”  But Jesus gives himself another name today.  He makes his own burning-bush-“I Am”- statement, and gets specific about what it means.  First, he says “I am the gate,” which makes sense.  Jesus is the way to the Father; Jesus opens onto the Father.  So if we were standing around, listening to him say this, we might think that he’s a special person; somebody like a prophet, somebody who has an extraordinary relationship with God.  He doesn’t stop there, though.  Jesus says “I am the gate,” then he says, “I am the Good Shepherd.”  And this is where he crosses a line. 

We hear “Good Shepherd,” and think very romantic, pastel sorts of things about meadows and kindness and sparkling brooks, none of which has anything to do with actual shepherding.  Shepherding is tough work, and shepherds are tough people.  But if they’re good at what they do, then they’re totally wedded to the welfare of the sheep – they have a complete stake in what happens to each one, and they’re skilled at keeping them together, keeping them safe, feeding them and protecting them.  When we talk about Jesus being our shepherd, friendliness and leniency isn’t what’s going on – a good shepherd is fiercely and decisively devoted to the sheep, come what may.  Shepherding means being tenacious and judicious.  It’s something weighty, something authoritative.

And authority is the problem here – it’s the line that Jesus crosses.  Where his flock is concerned, a good shepherd has implicit authority.  And the people Jesus is talking to definitely understand that fact – because they already have a good shepherd … somebody else was called the Good Shepherd way before Jesus, and that somebody was God.  Yahweh was the Good Shepherd.  Right there in the writings of the prophets, it says, “I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down.”  It’s in the famous words of this morning’s Psalm.  So when Jesus says, “I am the Good Shepherd,” he’s naming himself with the name of God; he’s naming God with his own name, and he’s claiming a power and an authority that belong to God alone.  Because of this, Jesus provokes the people around him to grumble a question – an awful, destructive, yet very familiar question about identity, “Who in the world does he think he is?”  “Jesus, you just called yourself the Good Shepherd … who do you think you are?”

I don’t know about you, but I don’t have to ask anybody what it feels like to hear those words.  “Who do you think you are?”  This is the pernicious little question that lies at the bottom of all of our shakiest feelings about ourselves.  It’s the question everybody has to face and conquer, in some way, if they’re going to do anything that God put them on this planet to do.  We hear this question – our kids hear this question – in so many places and so many ways, spoken and unspoken.  Think about people like Martin Luther King, Jr.,  or Mother Teresa who heard “Who do you think you are?” hurled at them, and uttered in their silent thoughts again and again as they worked for justice and cared for the dying.  Think about the nameless numbers of people for whom racism, sexism, homophobia, or poverty has taken root in that question, put to them by the world: “Who do you think you are?”  But think about yourself.  Even if your own life feels pretty normal, how often have you thought about what you’d like to do with it – some change you’d like to make or some dream you want to fulfill – and heard that question, aloud or silent: “Who do you think you are?”  How often has there been a person you’d like to get to know better, and before you could talk to them you had to answer that question in the back of your head, “Who do you think you are?”  How many of you think about the church, and what you want from it, and what you need from it, or about God and what you’re wondering or seeking, even what you’re angry with God about, and ask yourself, “Well who do I think I am?” 

The good news, the Gospel truth, is that we know who we are.  There’s this strange, breathtaking sentence buried in the book of Revelation, where Jesus is speaking to John in a vision, and he says, “To everyone who conquers … I will give a white stone, and on the white stone is written a new name that no one knows except the one who receives it.”  This is your true name, your most authentic identity.  When Jesus was being audacious, and calling himself the Good Shepherd, provoking confusion and anger for some people, those who were really listening to him would have heard him say that a good shepherd calls his own sheep by name.  This name, the name that the Shepherd knows you by and that he uses to speak into your heart and into your life is your true name, known only to God, untouched by any entity who would seek to undermine you with that question, “Who do you think you are?” 

Who you are is a child of God, a sheep of Jesus the Good Shepherd whose identity is God and whose authority is real because he is God’s revelation, he is God’s “I Am who I am.”  He is God’s name in the flesh and he shows us that God’s identity is self-giving love, the kind of totally invested love that causes a shepherd to lay down his life for the flock.  Who you are is a person who has been named, by God, to work for justice and care for others.  Who has been named, by God, to live unharmed, free from any ‘ism’ that would hem you in.  Who you are is a person who has been named, by God, to be in community with other people and with the very God who created you – to live and love and pray without fear, and without limit.  All you need to be that person is a shepherd – and you’ve got him.  All you need to do is listen for him to call you by name … and there you will find the power of God.

(Sermon preached by the Reverend Danielle Thompson on Sunday, May 15, 2011 at St. Chrysostom's Episcopal Church in Chicago, IL at 8:00 AM, 11:00 AM, and 5:15 PM - the above version reflects changes made before the evening service.) 

Looking ahead to the Fourth Sunday in Easter: John 10:1-10 ("Good Shepherd Sunday")

In the sermon this week, I think I will focus on the issue of “identity.”  The verses that are coming back to me again and again are these: “He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.  When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice” (John 10:3b-4). 

The whole passage of Scripture also contains two of Jesus’ important “I am” statements, which lend themselves to the theme of identity.  But let’s look at them on their own for a moment, apart from any theme, and consider the images that they paint.  As I’ve said, this blog is a good place to explore some of the details or research that inform the sermon, but won’t be evident in the sermon.

First, Jesus says “I am the gate” in verse 7.  This is a pretty intriguing statement, and one we tend to forget about when it’s paired with “I am the good shepherd.”  When Jesus says that he is a gate, he indicates that he is the way, the means by which a person finds God – or in the context of John 10, the means by which one enters “abundant” life (v. 10).  Notice the freedom that a person gains in relationship to Jesus: the person for whom he is the gate “will come in and go out and find pasture” (v. 9).  When one draws close to Jesus, he or she discovers true freedom and finds pasture everywhere. 

Jesus also says, famously, “I am the good shepherd” (v. 11).  He defines this in a positive and a negative way.  On the positive side, the good shepherd does something – he “lays down his life for his sheep” (v. 11).  This is the definition of self-giving love, which Jesus exhibits in his death.  On the negative side, the good shepherd is not something – he is not a “thief” or a “bandit” whose interests are not only selfish, but are destructive.  In John 10, Jesus is still speaking to the leaders gathered around the man born blind, who are refusing to celebrate that person’s health in their quest to undermine Jesus.  He is pointing to them as bad shepherds.  One biblical scholar, Jay Wilcoxen (an American Baptist pastor who lives here in Chicago), notes that by the time people would have been hearing and reading John’s Gospel, they would have had in mind various rebel movements that ended disastrously during the Jewish War of 66-73.  People may have questioned whether every zealot had the overall community’s best interests at heart. 

The failure of the leaders in John’s Gospel and the failure of the rebel leaders John may have wished to evoke point to the important thing about these “I am” statements: Jesus is the one making them!  His shepherding ministry is the pattern of all spiritual leadership, and his authority – grounded in self-giving love – is our only hope for living authentically with God and with one another.   

(Danielle Thompson)

Sermon preached on the Fourth Sunday in Lent

1 Samuel 16:1-13; Psalm 23; Ephesians 5:8-14;
John 9:1-41

THE ENCOUNTER OF JESUS AND THE BEGGAR BORN BLIND

by the Rev. Raymond Webster

Choosing David as the new king

Fascinating that the Lectionary has us read as our first lesson today (First Samuel 16:1-13) the story of God choosing David to be the new king, and David’s anointing by the prophet Samuel.

God choosing. I deeply believe that God loves each human being – you. That God loves each human being, each person in Jesus Christ and calls you to follow Jesus as his disciple, day by day. That God calls you to faith – to trust in the love we see in him –and to new life with him in heaven, and also on our way, our journey through life.

In our first reading, God sent Samuel to Jesse, to discern which of Jesse’s sons was the one. The first son was tall and imposing, but the writer notes piously,

… the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.

Six more sons were brought before the prophet. And then the youngest, the shepherd boy David – and the pious admonition was quite forgotten. The writer describes David:

Now he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome.

It is extremely unusual in the Hebrew Bible to have such a vivid personal description. So much for not looking on the outward appearance! I believe the Biblical writers were inspired by God, but they were human. David’s good looks probably were an asset to his political career, but they would get him in a whole lot of other trouble over the years. But all that lay in the future. Here in this story, David was God’s chosen, and Samuel anointed him as king:

Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward.

Anointing

The prophets, priests and kings of ancient Israel were anointed, holy oil was poured on them, as a sign they were sent from God to the task given them.

In the Hebrew Bible all Israel looked for the coming of “the Anointed One” – in Greek the “Christ” and in Hebrew the “Messiah” – who would save the people.

Interesting that the Lectionary gives us this story to go with today’s Gospel (John 9:1-41). For Jesus makes mud, and puts it on the eyes of the blind beggar – and then sends him to wash, where he is healed. So the Anointed One anoints someone – characteristically reaching out to someone in trouble and cut off -- and brings healing and sight and light.

So Jesus gives us baptism, where we are washed, and anointed with the Holy Spirit given to us: and the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward.

In the Spirit of the Lord we are to reach out to heal and bring light

And in the Spirit of the Lord we are to reach out to heal and bring light to dark places. In the great city this happens – sometimes best happens – through institutions.

If someone needs to learn, good to have schools, and good to have us provide them.

When someone needs surgery, good to have a hospital.

If you are out of prison and want to start a new life, good to have our charity St. Leonard’s Ministries

If you are out of work, good to have the Employment Council to go to.

If you are a human being, with a deep human need for God – and that is every one of us – every human being – it is good to have the church, a parish – may be a small college chaplaincy, may be a tin roof in the southern highlands of Mexico, but be a great building in a center city, but there will a community, the Eucharist, the Bible, the story of Jesus, the presence of God in the risen Christ.

You can be someone with every advantage in the eyes of the world, and still find yourself in great need, as much as the blind beggar that day. May not be able to see: where to go, what to do, where God is. Important that the church is there – the community is there, the worship is there, the priest is there at hospital bedside to say in Word and Sacrament that God is with you and loves you, even when you cannot see. And to trust that, simple trust, even as small an amount of trust as a mustard seed, there will be the light of faith.

The opening scene

How I love today’s Gospel story. The opening scene is quite simple.

As he walked along, (Jesus) saw a man blind from birth.

Jesus saw him. The man was a blind and a beggar, put out to beg. Someone in trouble, leading a very rough life, someone on the outside of society in all sorts of ways.

Jesus said,

“ I am the light of the world." When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man's eyes,

From the point of view of the blind beggar, he heard Jesus speak, he heard him say “I am the light of the world” and then he was touching him, gently, with fingers covered with mud, so that with the heightened sense of being touched of a blind person, he would know he was being touched. Not a blow, not a shove, but someone caring about him.

Then the blind beggar heard Jesus tell him to go wash in the pool of Siloam in Jerusalem. Perhaps the beggar got some of his friends to take him there – other beggars but one of them who could see. Then he went and washed and came back able to see.

The Anointed One – the Messiah, the Christ – reached out in his compassion and love, to anoint this blind beggar in the earthiest way, most literally down to earth way, and brought healing and sight and light.

Wow. Hurrah. You would think the neighbors would give a party, throw a fiesta.

Wrong.

The beggar they had put out to beg as a blind defenseless person, they now threw out as daring to claim healing. We human beings have great down home talents for ostracizing others.

Jesus went looking for him and found him

And then comes the beautiful ending – or rather the almost ending -- when Jesus heard the man had been driven out and went looking for him and found him.

…and when he found him, he said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?" He answered, "And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him." Jesus said to him, "You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he."

God sent Jesus to come look for us and find us. Jesus is God looking for us, who has found us – God with us.

“You have seen him.” You and I see him in his story. We see him in art and poetry and music which bring that story alive – the St. Matthew Passion, the stained glass in Chartres.

You and I see him in his baptism and in his Supper, to which he invites us here.

You and I see him in people in need, and in serving them.

You and I see him, when we go alone to be with God and see nothing, and trust God is with us, and then know the inner Light of trust and faith and see the deepest truth of God’s abiding presence and care.

He said, "Lord, I believe." And he worshiped him.

God calls us to make these words our own. Lord, I believe – I trust. I offer my worship and love.

The very next words of Jesus in John’s Gospel

For all today’s story is long, where we ended in the reading is not the ending in John’s Gospel. For the very next words – the very next – are these: Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. ²The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. ³The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. ⁴When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. ⁵They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.’ ⁶Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.

7 So again Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. ⁸All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. ⁹I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. ¹⁰The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

11 ‘I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.'

(This sermon was preached by the Rev. Raymond Webster, Rector, in St. Chrysostom’s Church, Chicago, Illinois on Sunday, April 3, 2011, the Fourth Sunday in Lent.)

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The Bible texts are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA, and used by permission.