A Lesson from Plane Geometry, 5/3/2020

A Sermon on 4 Easter, 3 May 2020 A from Rev. Clarence E. Butler

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

I am the good shepherd.  The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. John 10:11

I offer you this morning, the Fourth Sunday of Easter, commonly called “Good Shepherd Sunday,” no witticism or an attention-grabbing public interest story from the NY Times with which to ease you into the harsh reality of the truth of the Good Shepherd.  Rather, I have a troublesome question.  How many times have you wished that life were linear?  That you could anticipate the next joy, the next challenge, the next disappointment?  So that you could better plan, could come forth sooner with solutions?  My suspicion is, however, that you would find such a linear existence to be boring, descending into the doldrums, to borrow a line from the Roald Dahl’s children’s novel, “James and the Giant Peach.”

Whereas plane geometry teaches that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, that line is not the line which we call life.  Indeed, alone on a geographical plane, a building may stand between point A and point B.  Or a river may require a detour of four miles in order to get from point C to point D, themselves less than a quarter of a mile apart, if one could travel in a straight path, via a bridge perhaps.

When it comes to human interaction, I question further the efficacy of a linear life.  Where would be the excitement, the stimuli, that slight edge, to use the vernacular, [that] brings forth curiosity?  Where would be the desire, the incentive, the motivation to explore, to search for new vaccines against diseases, to make new friends, to welcome the stranger, to want to give aid to others in times of distress?

So, my question again: How many times have you wished that life were linear?  Hidden in that question is a more up-to-date variation: How many times in these recent weeks, living under mandates to shelter-in-place, have you asked yourself how long will it be before we can return to life as it used to be?  It is precisely this question of linear living that moved Jesus of Nazareth to describe himself as the Good Shepherd who would give his life for his sheep.

The gospel for today, although positioned in our lectionary calendar as if it were a post-Resurrection account, is not, in fact, in the same category as the story of Thomas or the two followers of Jesus who encountered the Risen Christ as they made their way to Emmaus.  However much Thomas and those two followers [might] themselves have longed for a previous time, their legitimate longing was not to be fulfilled.  Life for them continued in its forward course, not capable of doubling back onto itself.  The crucifixion and the subsequent resurrection had introduced a new variable.  Things had to change.  And so is it for us; with the resurrection, change must and will come.

Taken as a stand-alone, the text from John’s biography of Jesus of Nazareth as the door through which the sheep enter, evokes in us the image of a pastoral scene of comfort and security and of God’s Messiah who will set everything right, who will make things linear.  Yet, the account St. John gives, if taken in context, does not project upon our mind’s screen the image of a compassionate leader who begs for a linear existence.  True, St. John’s account gives us a profile of God’s Messiah, but it is not the only profile, and it most certainly is not to be understood and classified as a Resurrection Story.  Rather, the story of the Good Shepherd is an indictment of those seeking a linear life because the linear life [that] his antagonists sought to live came at the expense of others.

Oh, would that today’s gospel profile of Jesus as the good shepherd arose out of such a scene of pastoral harmony, to offer us in 2020 a place where we could be sheltered from life which is filled with all kinds of uncertainties and disappointments that overshadow those seemingly fleeting moments of joy and fun and success!  Understandably, this is where so many of us would want to remain.  However, this profile of Jesus as the good shepherd answers the question “why the crucifixion?”.

The backstory, out of which the description of Jesus as the good shepherd comes, occupies the entire ninth chapter of John’s gospel.  Indeed, as recorded in St. John’s Gospel, this story of the good shepherd is not an Easter story.  It is an excellent, riveting, attention-grabbing story and describes well who Jesus was and is.  However, it is not a recording of a post-Resurrection appearance.  To understand the urgency out of which Jesus offers himself as the good shepherd, one has to understand what had provoked him to describe himself thusly.

Jesus the Good Shepherd addresses the objections of his adversaries who were not pleased that he had healed a man blind from birth.  After the man is healed, the religious leaders of the community conspired to drive the man, formerly blind, from their community, because now seeing, the man no longer fit into their one-dimensional, linear image of him.  This new and unfamiliar image disturbed them.  Even the testimony of the man’s parents did not dispel their discomfort.  No longer blind, he did not have to beg, and should he not need to beg, how were they, through a toss of a coin into the beggar’s cup, to demonstrate their piety and thus maintain their image as upstanding pillars of society?  A potentially even more dangerous possibility could become a reality for the religious leaders: Should the man, once blind but now seeing, actually see their abuse of authority, did it not stand to reason that he might begin to speak publicly against their authority?  Rebellion and revolution could then be not far behind!

When Jesus hears of the man’s banishment, searches for and finds him, Jesus confirms the healing experience as from God at the hands of the Son of Man.  Jesus pronounces then the judgment of God that makes the blind people to see and sighted people blind.  The religious and secular leaders became more rattled, more anxious, and were put on the defensive.

The religious leaders were initially offended that Jesus had performed the healing on the Sabbath, which was an attack on their religious authority to maintain good order.  However, second and perhaps even more offensive was the inference that they were the thieves who, in order to preserve their own linear existence, were willing to deny the change that enabled the blind man to make a new and constructive contribution to society.  It is to them that Jesus describes himself as the door of change, the good shepherd.  In the end, threatened by the possibility of further change, the newly sighted man, as well as the good shepherd had to be eliminated.

Prior to the crucifixion, Jesus challenged those who abused their knowledge and power.  The crucifixion informs us of the price that the God of Creation was willing to pay in order to restore harmony in the ever-evolving creation.  Not only is the good shepherd prepared to lay down his life for the sheep, for those who need his care; he proclaims his readiness to expose and defeat those who have abused their knowledge and power, those who ignore the will of God to care for the creation and for those of lesser fortune.  This is the harsh lesson [that] the story of the good shepherd outlines.

Perhaps the most powerful moment for any Christian is the moment when he or she realizes that the story addresses our lives, which [are] anything but linear, and tells us that we are worth something, indeed worth everything in the world to God—worth even the life of the good shepherd.  Whether we wished for a shepherd who would offer himself on our behalf is not the question. We were not consulted.  God has determined that we [need the] shepherd’s care.  When we and all people of faith come to this understanding, we have moved out of the A-to-B linear problem-set, and into a bold and present reality.

If this were merely an interesting story with an interesting ending, we could all take a continuing education course, write our term papers, and be done with it.  As people of faith, as believers in the righteousness, in the divinity of Jesus of Nazareth, we are called back to that story, again and again.  We accept, by faith, that Jesus Christ is the Messiah of the one true God.  And with that acceptance comes the beginning of a spiritual intimacy that involves us individually and as a community, a spiritual intimacy that grows and deepens as we go through the door [that] is the Risen Christ, as we follow the good shepherd to green pastures, beside still waters, as well as through dark valleys.  Because the good shepherd invested and invests his life in ours, we respond by investing our life in his.

Our resurrection faith puts before us, not only in our land but throughout the world, some challenging questions: Can we as Christians live a linear life?  Do we know of anyone in our land of plenty who, prior to and perhaps during our current pandemic, [have gone to bed hungry and] should like to return to or remain in such a situation?  Do we seriously believe that individuals who, because of pre-existing medical conditions are denied access to adequate health care, wish to continue to live in pain and disease [that] can be treated?  Do we believe that children should have to rummage through refuse heaps or drink virus-infected water?  We, who claim the faith of Jesus, know that God’s Messiah rejected the claim for linear living as unacceptable to the God of creation, for such a claim excludes so many possibilities to experience God’s Grace.

Having presented to you the harsh reality that Good Shepherd Sunday is not, while presenting a profile of Christ, a post-resurrection validation according John’s records, I must confess to you that there is a direct, irrefutable connection of the story of the Good Shepherd to the resurrection.  St. John has told his story well and has recorded for all times that connection.  See for yourselves in John 21:

After this Jesus revealed himself again [a third time] to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he revealed himself in this way.  Simon Peter Thomas call the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples were together…When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?…He said to him the third time,…’Feed my sheep.’ (John 21: 1ff.)

In the aftermath of the healing of the man born blind comes [to us] the invitation from the resurrected Good Shepherd to take our place alongside those who heard it originally, and to stand next to the forgiven and rehabilitated Peter who, as we heard last Sunday in our epistle reading, gave clear pronouncement of the nature of our role as followers of the Risen Good Shepherd.  We, people of faith, accept with joy the words of comfort and assurance and, being now cast into this gospel story, [we] cannot do otherwise than to proclaim: The resurrected Good Shepherd does not allow us to return to a linear existence.  For God sent not his Son, the Good Shepherd, to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.

AMEN

Image:
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Marble_statue_of_The_Good_Shepherd_carrying_a_lamb,_c._300-350,_from_the_Catacombs_of_Domitilla,_Vatican_Museums_(31302108294).jpg