Shepherd: a sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter

John 10.22-30

²² The time came for the Festival of Dedicatione in Jerusalem. It was winter, ²³ and Jesus was in the temple, walking in the covered porch named for Solomon. ²⁴ The Jewish opposition circled around him and asked, “ How long will you test our patience? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly. ”

²⁵ Jesus answered, “ I have told you, but you don’t believe. The works I do in my Father’s name testify about me, ²⁶ but you don’t believe because you don’t belong to my sheep. ²⁷ My sheep listen to my voice. I know them and they follow me. ²⁸ I give them eternal life. They will never die, and no one will snatch them from my hand. ²⁹ My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them from my Father’s hand. ³⁰ I and the Father are one. ”

Let the words of my mouth

and the meditations of my heart

be pleasing to you,

LORD , my rock and my redeemer.

If I wanted the easy way out this week, I’d preach Psalm 23. I’d ignore the Gospel reading and the reading from the Revelation to John. I’d just stick with the Psalm.

And it’s not that I’m a Type A personality. That’s not why I won’t do that.

It’s the guilt, really. It’s the Holy Spirit saying, “You don’t really want to cheat, do you?”

Yes. Yes, I do. But I won’t.

Because my sheep deserve better than the easy way out.

Anyway, as Tom Petty said, “Hey, baby, there ain’t no easy way out.”

So.

If you’ve watched the news at all this week, you know that we’ve had a rough go of it. And that’s not to say that we can compare to Baghdad or Somalia or any number of other places that see extraordinary violence every single day.

But we who are accustomed to the particularly privileged protections of living in this country become genuinely shocked when violence occurs within our borders.

Especially when it happens in an event as uplifting and empowering as the Boston Marathon.

Then the blind tragedy of a fertilizer plant leveling four blocks and killing dozens of people in West, Texas.

And the ricin-laced letters sent to the District of Columbia that brought to mind the terror when we started hearing about the threat of anthrax a few years ago, when every letter from someone I didn’t know or left suspiciously blank set my heart racing.

In the midst of that chaos and fear, and even in the midst of our own fear and grief, Jesus says:

[My sheep] will never die, and no one will snatch them from my hand.

But Jesus, someone did! But Jesus, they did die!

This is why proclamation is hard, y’all. The controversial stuff is easy. It might get me kicked out of the pulpit if the wrong person disagrees with me, sure, but the preaching itself is easy.

This is the stuff that’s hard.

They will never die, and no one will snatch them from my hand.

Well, the evidence of our own eyes disagrees.

Of course, there are easy answers:

The people who died weren’t in Christ’s hands.

God planned for them to die.

God is exacting punishment on a sinful nation.

And maybe you’ve said one or all of those at some point. Maybe even this week.

I don’t buy it. How often is the easy answer the right one? You can keep your pithy proverbs. I want a deeper faith than that.

Yes, people have died. No, it doesn’t make sense. But Jesus doesn’t exactly promise that it’ll make sense.

Heck, if life made sense, why would Jesus have to explain it in parables? It is the very nature of parable to portray what is ultimately mysterious.

Please don’t try to make sense of tragedy. All you’ll end up doing is undermining your own faith and the faith of the people who buy into cheap explanations.

God doesn’t tell us that this is going to be easy or painless. In fact, when John speaks to the elder before the Throne, he is told plainly:

These people have come out of great hardship.

They haven’t had an easy go of it. They didn’t get a “Get Out Of Trials Free” card.

They went through what we go through. Maybe more. Probably more, considering just how easy we have it.

And frankly, where we get it wrong, if we manage to get past the pithy excuses that people make up just to make us feel a lot more protected than we actually are, is assuming that when terrible, horrible, no good, very bad stuff happens, we have to cope with it completely on our own: one woman, one man, an island unto him- or herself, facing with courage and without tears the all torrent of hardship that the forces of hell itself can bring to bear against humanity.

That ain’t how this works.

If you’ve still got your thumb in the Revelator’s text (or if you want to just open your bulletin back up), look at the staging. I think it might just be relevant.

All the angels stood in a circle around the throne, and around the elders and the four living creatures.

The saints are encircling the throne, together, as one, surrounded by the very army of God.

Well, what else would you expect from sheep?

They herd. They follow each other, right?

There’s wisdom in that.

When you’re essentially defenseless, the greatest strength you can find is to stick together.

So in the face of violence, in the face of fear, in the face of those who would curse us, let us stand together and proclaim the good news that our Shepherd is with us! Let us proclaim with confidence that one day

They won’t hunger or thirst anymore. No sun or scorching heat will beat down on them, because the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne will shepherd them. He will lead them to the springs of life-giving water,d and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

In our beginning, our Creator is with us. In our resurrection, our Savior is with us. And in the in-betweens, the Holy one walks with us “even when [we] walk through the darkest valley”.

The good news isn’t that we escape death. The good news is that we are rescued from the power of death.

Even in death, God is with us.

In our death is a resurrection. At the last is victory. It is unrevealed for now, but our trust is in our Savior and our Creator who has the power to breathe Patience and Comfort into us.

Fear not, friends. Even in the darkest valley, God is with us.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Holding Back on Love; a sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter.

John 21.1-19

Later, Jesus himself appeared again to his disciples at the Sea of Tiberius. This is how it happened: ² Simon Peter, Thomas (called Didymusj ), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, Zebedee’s sons, and two other disciples were together. ³ Simon Peter told them, “ I’m going fishing. ”

They said, “ We’ll go with you. ” They set out in a boat, but throughout the night they caught nothing. ⁴ Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples didn’t realize it was Jesus.

⁵ Jesus called to them, “ Children, have you caught anything to eat? ”

They answered him, “ No. ”

⁶ He said, “ Cast your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some. ”

So they did, and there were so many fish that they couldn’t haul in the net. ⁷ Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “ It’s the Lord! ” When Simon Peter heard it was the Lord, he wrapped his coat around himself (for he was naked) and jumped into the water. ⁸ The other disciples followed in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they weren’t far from shore, only about one hundred yards.

⁹ When they landed, they saw a fire there, with fish on it, and some bread. ¹⁰ Jesus said to them, “ Bring some of the fish that you’ve just caught. ” ¹¹ Simon Peter got up and pulled the net to shore. It was full of large fish, one hundred fifty-three of them. Yet the net hadn’t torn, even with so many fish. ¹² Jesus said to them, “ Come and have breakfast. ” None of the disciples could bring themselves to ask him, “ Who are you? ” They knew it was the Lord.

¹³ Jesus came, took the bread, and gave it to them. He did the same with the fish. ¹⁴ This was now the third time Jesus appeared to his disciples after he was raised from the dead.

¹⁵ When they finished eating, Jesus asked Simon Peter, “ Simon son of John, do you love me more than these? ”

Simon replied, “ Yes, Lord, you know I love you. ”

Jesus said to him, “ Feed my lambs. ” ¹⁶ Jesus asked a second time, “ Simon son of John, do you love me? ”

Simon replied, “ Yes, Lord, you know I love you. ”

Jesus said to him, “ Take care of my sheep. ” ¹⁷ He asked a third time, “ Simon son of John, do you love me? ”

Peter was sad that Jesus asked him a third time, “ Do you love me? ” He replied, “ Lord, you know everything; you know I love you. ”

Jesus said to him, “ Feed my sheep. ¹⁸ I assure you that when you were younger you tied your own belt and walked around wherever you wanted. When you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and another will tie your belt and lead you where you don’t want to go. ” ¹⁹ He said this to show the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. After saying this, Jesus said to Peter, “ Follow me. ”

Let the words of my mouth

and the meditations of my heart

be pleasing to you,

LORD , my rock and my redeemer.

Moments like this one make me wonder if the disciples, early on, didn’t have just too much time on their hands.

I hear the introduction to this story in a very specific way, and it’s because Peter’s first line is so out-of-the-blue.

The disciples are hanging out. John doesn’t tell us they’re doing anything in particular, but there seems to be a lot of waiting occurring in this period.

After all, that’s what Jesus tells the early disciples and the early Church to do.

Wait for me. I’ll be right back.

Or maybe we misunderstood that line.

For two millennia.

Either way, the early disciples are waiting.

Waiting.

Wait. ing.

And Peter jumps up and says, “Welp, I’m going fishing.”

Professional fisherman Peter. Who catches with nets in boats, hauling in huge loads of fish and heavy lines made from, what, wool? hemp? flax? Probably something waterlogged and massive.

He goes out to do that because he’s bored.

You’ve gotta really love your job to want to do it just to pass time.

Peter, it seems to me, is not the kind of guy who waits well. He lacks patience. He’s impetuous. He’s active. He’s on the go.

“Full throttle” might be the phrase I’m looking for.

“Welp, forget this. I’m going fishing.”

Some of you may be the kind of person who has to do something to get your mind off things, to pass time. Some of you may be perfectly happy sitting by a creek and listening to the water bouncing off rocks.

Nothing wrong with either. But Peter is the former.

He and the disciples go out in the boat, cast their nets, hoping to push their nervousness and impatience around a bit as they pull in massive loads of fish…

and they get nothing.

To avoid waiting, they go out in the boat… and wait.

Can you see Peter’s nervousness eating him up? Can you see him rocking from foot to foot, the thoughts in his head pounding around with no outlet? Can you see the inaction eating him alive?

Then some fool watching from shore hollers at them.

I bet Peter didn’t hear him for all the buzzing in his head.

Somebody tells Peter this fella’s shouting at them.

“Hey, kiddos! Catch anything yet?”

Kiddos? Who’s that jerk think he is? Can’t he see we’ve got an empty boat?

Idiot.

“NO!”

Stupid son of a carpenter.

“Whyn’t’cha throw the net on the other side?”

Oh, smart guy. Whatever. Tell him where he can go throw his own net.

Of course, they do try the other side. And probably not for the first time that day.

And after they haul in that miraculous catch, the Beloved Disciple recognizes Jesus and tells Peter. That’s exactly what Peter’s been waiting for, so all his nervousness and excitement and anticipation launches him straight into the water to get back to Jesus as quickly as his little arms and legs can take him.

And I see Jesus smile at him, the Word of Creation joying in the adoring love of a child.

Which is why it’s so surprising how he answers when Jesus asks:

Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?

Peter probably laughs. Who doesn’t love Jesus more than a breakfast of fish?

Yes, Lord, you know I love you.

And here we have to pause, because our beloved english language fails us.

Peter doesn’t directly answer Jesus’ question.

Jesus asks Peter, “Do you αγαπε me? Do you, without condition or reservation, give everything you have and everything you are in complete trust and absolute faith in me?”

It’s a loaded word.

Peter says, “Come on, Jesus, you’re my favorite! φιλω συ.”

I think Jesus’ eye begins to glisten when he says, “Feed my lambs.”

Simon son of John, do you love me?

And Jesus really is Peter’s favorite. Nobody is more important. He doesn’t trust anybody more. And Jesus is putting Peter on the spot. Peter starts to notice, I think.

Yes, Lord, you know [I’m fond of] you.

Take care of my sheep.

I’m a fisherman. I don’t do nasty, smelly, stupid sheep. I catch nasty, smelly, stupid fish. I haul in big loads of nasty, smelly, stupid fish. I don’t stand around waiting on nasty, smelly, stupid…

Simon son of John, [are you fond of] me?

<pause>

Church, do you love Jesus? Do you αγαπε Jesus? Does it show? Are you giving everything you have, everything you are, all your time and attention and effort and concentration? Are you giving all your heart, soul, mind, and strength for Jesus?

Probably not. That’s hard.

We like Jesus a whole lot. We’re fond of him. We like the idea.

So Jesus tells us, Then feed my lambs.

Church, do you αγαπε Jesus? Is every thought centered around what Jesus thinks of us, what Jesus would do if he were here, or rather, because he is here?

No, but we like to sing about waking up in the morning with my mind set on Jesus. It’s a fun song.

So Jesus tells us, Take care of my sheep.

Church, you know you’re not even caring for them, though. Are you even fond of Jesus?

If that question gets you a little upset, a little down, a little offended, a little angry, then you might just be getting a taste of what Peter’s trying to say.

Lord, you know everything; you know I love you!

Feed my sheep.

Church, when we’re spiritually young, we can get away with selfish Jesus-is-my-boyfriend kinds of theology and practice. But when we’ve been at this awhile, our excuses for not growing up get old and tired.

Growing up in faith means feeding the lambs, taking care of the sheep. It means sticking up for defenseless people. It means offering nutrition to the malnourished. It means helping people out of poverty and hopeless situations, which is neither offering blind handouts nor complaining that that’s all the poor want. It means offering meaningful opportunities for them to grow and feed their families, opportunities that are sustainable and worthwhile.

It also means making yourself available and able to provide spiritual nourishment to people who need it. The kind of nourishment that lifts people up instead of just beating them down.

Feed my sheep.

Church, when you were young, people led you around by the hand and spoon-fed you your Bible verses and your Jesus-Loves-Me.

But when you grow up, you’re going to have to let Jesus lead you where you don’t want to go. And your John 3:16 and your Amazing Grace is only just the tip of this iceberg.

It’s time to stop holding back on love.

It’s time to give everything you have. Because following Jesus takes everything you are.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.