The Fourth Sunday of Easter is always “Good Shepherd Sunday.” Every year we read from Chapter 10 John’s Gospel about shepherds and sheep. In this chapter, Jesus uses a lot of words to describe who he is.
The image or theology of the Good Shepherd is very popular. Psalm 23 is one of the, if not the most, popular Psalms from the Bible. Many of us know the psalm by heart. I learned it when I spent a year reciting the Psalm every morning to make a habit of trusting God. The theology is inherently good: God is our trustworthy guide through good and bad, and, ultimately, the eternal good. It is, perhaps, a particularly poignant image during this time of a global pandemic. The Good Shepherd reminds us: God is with us; we have all we need; and, the ordinary is extraordinary in the presence of God.
All of the Gospels use the image of sheep and shepherds in some way. Sometimes it is the Son of Man separating the sheep and the goats. Other times, Jesus views the crowd as lost sheep without a shepherd.
The Gospel of John, though, is the only Gospel where Jesus calls himself the Good Shepherd. He does so in the middle of a long speech about gates, shepherds, thieves, bandits, and hired hands.
I sometimes feel like Jesus uses too many words (and I love words and Jesus). I find myself trying to keep track of each image, weaving them together in my imagination. By the time I’m done, I feel dizzy and unsure.
I felt especially unsure in John’s Gospel this week. Every day, my mind bounces from one task to the next: the kids’ schoolwork, preparing for Sunday, checking on people, household chores… I’m constantly interrupting myself or being interrupted by someone/something else. I have a feeling this is because of the underlying anxiety that comes with a global pandemic. It’s not that things are bad. And isolation and face masks are just two reminders that life has changed. As I read and re-read this Sunday’s Gospel, I struggled. I would go read or listen to a commentary, and struggle. I would sit down to write and think, and struggle. I couldn’t focus. I felt scattered. I kept wondering: which image is the most important; what do I want to remember about this Sunday’s Gospel?
I want to remember that Jesus loves us the way a good shepherd loves the sheep.
I once read a crime novel about sheep who solve the murder of their beloved shepherd, George (Three Bags Full by Leonie Swann). What I remember about the book is how much the sheep loved their shepherd. They loved him because he loved them first. I believe a good shepherd loves their sheep. And even though I know sheep can not solve mysteries, I believe they know love. And so do we. We know the feeling of loving and being loved.
Sometimes, it is difficult to know the love of Jesus in our lives. We might wonder if we will have all we need, especially when we walk through dark places. We might wonder if we will find our way, especially when we feel lost or afraid. We might wonder where God is, especially in the presence of thieves and bandits. The image of the Good Shepherd is a solid reminder of Christ’s love and presence. When we feel lost or afraid, uncertain or unsure, we can meditate on the Good Shepherd.
The Good Shepherd reminds us that God gives us all we need, guides us, even in the dark, and is always with us. The Good Shepherd is a revelation of God’s love for creation. The Good Shepherd teaches us to love like God. I want to remember that the Good Shepherd loves us, all of us, all the time.
I want to remember that Jesus is a door to abundant life thrown wide open.
The doors of our church are some of the most well known doors in town. Take a look at the mural on 3rd street: there are Trinity’s doors. Our doors are beautiful and they are just doors: an entry way into our sacred space. I know when people look at our doors, they wonder what is inside. I hope when they come inside they experience the love of the Good Shepherd.
The word translated as gate in our Gospel today is actually door. I’m not sure if that changes its meaning. Except, it is a reminder that Jesus is talking about access: who enters the sheepfold. If we skim the reading or listen half-heartedly, we might hear limitations. These limitations, though, don’t make sense in light of the whole story of Jesus. Just before today’s reading the Gospel tells the story of a blind man healed by Jesus. After the blind man is healed, his community does not believe him. Indeed, they drive him out of the community because they are so offended by his healing. Jesus, though, welcomes him into the community of followers, into the sheepfold. Jesus gives the blind man access to a community of mercy and love.
The Good Shepherd welcomes anyone who wants to be close to God, turning no one away. The Good Shepherd creates community, even amidst isolation. I want to remember that the Good Shepherd opens the door to peace, mercy, and healing love.
And I want to remember that I can love the way the Good Shepherd loves. I want to offer peace in the dark places. I want to spread a table of mercy and healing. I want to the throw open the doors of love in my own life: to create and inhabit a community that leads to abundant life.
Of course, community looks very different right now. And we can still love. Maybe it’s sending a card, making a phone call, or waving to your neighbor. Maybe it’s a kind word, or a generous offering. Maybe it’s an act of forgiveness and reconciliation invites healing and peace. We are empowered by the Good Shepherd, who loves us, to love. May we have the courage and strength to be who Christ calls us to be.
Peace be with you,
Amy+
