PROPERS: 4 EASTER, YEAR B
TEXT: JOHN 10:11-18
PREACHED AT RESURRECTION, STARKVILLE, ON SUNDAY, APRIL 21, 2024
ONE SENTENCE: The presence of the Good Shepherd is subtle but constant.
For years before he became Bishop of Mississippi, Brian Seage was rector of St. Columb’s in Ridgeland. For seven or eight years he would ask me to supply on Trinity Sunday, which is the Sunday after Pentecost.
Trinity Sunday celebrates the unity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Many priests would rather eat rat poison than preach on Trinity Sunday. Almost anything you say in a sermon is a heresy! Brian was, I suspect, one of those who avoided the Sunday.
I did not shy away from Trinity Sunday. There are such fancy terms as perichoresis (the divine dance of the Trinity) that a preacher can draw on – even while committing a heresy.
Trinity Sunday was not on my list of Sundays to avoid. But this one is – Good Shepherd Sunday. How, I wonder, do I make that image into a here and now reality? We’re not exactly a sheep-herding society.
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A year ago, Nora and I took a trip to Scotland with daughter Leigh and her family. We were part of a tour group.
Scotland is a beautiful country and we love to visit it. But there was an unexpected delight – a visit to a sheep farm.
The main attraction of the farm was the working dogs – all border collies. It was amazing and amusing to see two or three dogs herd hundreds of sheep wherever they were commanded. A vivid memory is of two dogs bringing a herd of sheep over a hill to a closed enclosure.
The dogs were amazing. And focused.
The shepherd was always present. He never departed the scene. But his role was quiet; subtle.
The sheep stayed together. They never left the flock. Not one went off on its own.
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If you’re like me, you don’t like to be considered a sheep. They are not particularly bright animals. They’re smelly. And unlike sheep, we don’t like the idea of being herded.
I saw in that herd of sheep a characteristic that is very human – and that is a basic human fear. We don’t like to be abandoned. Abandonment is almost a universal human fear.
To be utterly on our own – separate of all human contact with friends, family members, and others – is chilling. Think of the effects of isolation in prison, and the toll that takes on the psyche. We begin to lose our ability to cope – to lose those aspects which make us human.
To a certain degree, we are like the sheep in Scotland. For one thing, we like to have general instructions. We like to have someone who watches over us, or at least checks on us.
I would say that we are most like that herd of sheep in that we do not wish to be abandoned – to be utterly cut off from others around us.
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The gospel teaching today about the Good Shepherd comes hard on the heels of the story about the blind man that Jesus healed. The man, after being healed, was confronted by religious authorities. They rejected him and cast him out of their presence.
The man was then alone. His previous identity had been that of a blind beggar who depended on people to help him. Now, he no longer had that identity.
This is where Jesus again comes in again. He tells the formerly blind man and us about the Good Shepherd.
The essence is this: The shepherd never departs. We are never truly alone. The Good Shepherd doesn’t abandon his flock. He sticks with his flock through the storms and tempests of life. He is the shepherd in Scotland, writ large. Wherever we go, whatever we do – the Shepherd is with us. His presence may be subtle, but it is profound.
Perhaps he is grieving with us. Perhaps he is celebrating, too. Maybe he is guiding us – maybe just hinting – when we are finding our way.
Remember, the bond established by God in baptism is indissoluble. You never walk alone.
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