Easter 4: Shepherd: A Verb

Scripture Reading  John 10:1-10 

 

A reading from the gospel according to John, beginning at chapter 10, verse 1. 

 

“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. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. 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. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.

 

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

 

This is the Good News we have received, in which we stand,

and by which we are saved.

Thanks be to God!   

  

Sermon      ”Shepherd: A Verb”   Rev. Pat Raube 

This morning we have shared what is easily the most well-known psalm in scripture, the psalm of the Good Shepherd. The psalm is paired with a long monologue of Jesus—called a discourse—in which he is explaining this image, and what it means. The image of the Good Shepherd is a lovely image—many of us find it comforting. Loving. Caring.

 

But there is also something unsettled, and unsettling, in this image. Psalm 23 is called a psalm of trust, and these psalms always emerge from a troubled context. The psalmist calls out to God in hopeful trust exactly because the psalmist is in the middle of some kind of dangerous or frightening situation. With King David as the author, we can imagine lots of possibilities for the context of this psalm. David was in trouble a lot. Maybe the psalm conjures memories from David’s time as a shepherd, before he was anointed king, and the psalm is about predators attacking the sheep. Maybe the psalm refers to his time as the leader of Israel, when he was both king and soldier. It could be a psalm written in the midst of war, referring to a battle, an attack, or an act of treason against the throne.

 

When we turn to the gospel reading, we find tension there, too. A couple of months ago we read the story of Jesus healing a man who had been born without sight. These words of Jesus arise from that context: a healing that, for some reason, had caused consternation and conflict. The man who is healed is questioned, repeatedly. His family is questioned, his neighbors are questioned, any witnesses to the healing are sought and questioned. Some religious leaders can’t fathom that Jesus was able to perform such a sign, and they are eager to disprove it. After the contentious conversations are finished, Jesus uses this as a teaching moment. We are witnessing that teaching.

 

Jesus starts off speaking of thieves and bandits—trouble. Trouble for the sheep, and trouble for the shepherd. Jesus notes that anyone not coming in to the sheepfold by the gate is surely up to no good. But the one who comes in by the gate is the one who belongs there—the shepherd of the sheep. Then Jesus makes a surprising statement: Not only is he the good shepherd; he is also the gate of the sheepfold.

 

This image isn’t pure metaphor. Picture a sheepfold—a fence, or maybe a stone wall, that curves, with only one opening. The opening is not large—it doesn’t need to be. But it was very common for the shepherd to lie down across the opening, once the sheep had all gone into the fold. The shepherd’s body is the gate; the gate is the shepherd.

 

A word about the sheep. If Jesus is the Good Shepherd, I suppose that makes us the sheep. This isn’t exactly a compliment. In fact, we hear it a lot in political discourse, whenever one group is accusing another group of mindlessly following a politician or embracing a worldview that the accusers don’t like. You are sheep, people are told. You are sheeple. Not a compliment.

 

But there are reasons behind this image. Theologian Elizabeth Webb writes,

 

A sheep is a particularly vulnerable creature, especially when on its own. Sheep need a leader so as not to wander aimlessly, and will follow their leader even into certain danger. Sheep have no defense against predators except for flocking, yet their instinctive flight response to danger can also cause panic and scattering. Individual sheep are highly stressed when separated from their flock. Indeed, sheep must be able to see each other in order to graze without agitation, and the loss of that visual contact can lead to further panic and flight. A lost sheep is, if you will, a sitting duck.[i]

 

Webb goes on to say that the author of this psalm is most likely speaking for a community. She writes,

 

… Psalm 23 is spoken by one who knows fresh pain. The writer speaks for a community that has recently walked through the darkest valley, and has emerged, trembling and stumbling and blinking in the light.[ii]

 

“Trembling, and stumbling, and blinking in the light” would be a pretty good description of the man born blind, whose eyes are now working as they should, for the first time. It would also be a good description of all Jesus’ disciples in the face of the unfathomable: the resurrection. “Trembling, and stumbling, and blinking in the light.”

 

This is why the words in the gospel passage are filled with comfort and reassurance. I’ve mentioned this before: I believe the Jesus of John’s gospel speaks unabashedly as the risen Christ, always. Jesus says,

 

The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep… 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 10:2-4

 

And then we are back to Easter morning, and we remember Mary Magdalene in the garden, confused by the absence of Jesus’ body, and the presence of angels, and this gardener who must know something about where the body is. And then he calls her by name. He says, “Mary.” And she knows his voice.

 

Think again of the context here: the story of the man born blind, a man for whom hearing was his best chance at getting to know and understand everyone, including who Jesus was and is.  And now, the story of the man healed, the man who can see, now, for the first time in his life. The shepherd is the healer. They are one and the same. Even the psalm hints at it, in verse 5, when the shepherd anoints the sheep with oil. Yes, in scripture oil is used for anointing kings, and prophets, and priests. But it is also used for dressing wounds, for healing.

 

The Good Shepherd isn’t just an image, a lovely pastoral scene. Shepherd is a verb. The shepherd leads, calls, mothers. So much of what the Shepherd does reflects our traditional ideas of momming. Feeding, watering, making them lie down to rest—that’s such a mom thing to do. The only reason she doesn’t tell them to put on a sweater is because they’re born with them. And in addition to leading, feeding, providing fresh water, ensuring rest, Shepherding is restoring the soul, restoring life, and healing.

 

So when we are in that unsettled and unsettling context… when we are at the end of our ropes, or devastated by a death, or devastated by a diagnosis, or worried about our work, or fretting over our parents, or fretting over our children, or grandchildren, or fretting about fretting… the Good Shepherd is with us. The Good Shepherd is the one who is ready to lead us, the one who is ready to feed us, the one who is ready to restore us, to restore our souls, to restore our lives. The Shepherd is ready to heal us. He is the one who calls us by name. We know his voice. You know his voice. He is the one who is ready to bring the peace that surpasses all understanding. He is the one who is ready to bring abundant life.

 

Listen. Listen.

 

Thanks be to God. Amen.


[i] Elizabeth Webb, “Commentary on Psalm 23,” Working Preacher, April 30, 2023. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter/commentary-on-psalm-23-14.

[ii] Ibid.