Good Shepherds Unleashed!

Easter 4B; Ps. 23; 1 Jn. 3:16-24; Jn. 10:11-18; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC 4/26/15 Jim Melnyk: “Good Shepherds Unleashed”

It might be said that we live in a world where the Gospel has become domesticated – where, according to theologian Walter Brueggemann, it has become “easily assumed, slotted, and conveniently dismissed –” a “truth widely held, but a truth greatly reduced…flattened, trivialized, and rendered inane” (Finally Comes the Poet, Walter Brueggemann, 1989, p. 1).

Perhaps nowhere can that be more clearly seen than how the modern day church addresses the shepherd imagery offered throughout scripture and especially in the Gospels.  And while our modern day imagery of shepherds and their work might seem somewhat tame, the domestication of the deepest truths of our faith began even as far back as the fledgling church and the formation of the Gospels. 

For instance Luke’s “blessed are you who are poor,” and “blessed are you who are hungry now,” (Luke 6:21-22) both of which have life and death implications about them, become Matthew’s “blessed are the poor in spirit,” and “blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness;” (Matthew 5:3, 6) which though still vital statements about our lives on a more holistic level, certainly don’t carry the same life and death urgency about them all.  And those changes are much more acceptable within circles of cultured folks who don’t want to think or talk about people who are poor or people who go to bed hungry every night. 

Then there’s the disciples’ admonition in Mark’s Gospel, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” directed toward Jesus, which (4:38) becomes “Lord save us!” in Matthew (8:25), and “Master, Master, we are perishing!” in Luke (8:24); because after all, how would it look for the disciples to speak so rudely to the Son of God?

The great challenge for the church today is that it’s too easy to become complacent – too easy to become comfortable – with a domestication of the Gospel – with a domestication of our faith – and quite frankly, it can bore the living daylights out of us!  As Brueggemann says, even our pastoral prayers and our love letters begin to sound like interoffice memos! (Brueggemann, p. 3)  And all too often we’re willing to put up with a tame version of our faith because the alternative can scare the living daylights out of us – and perhaps most of us would rather be a little bit bored than a whole lot scared by what our faith commends within us.

When we shake out all the ways we’ve quieted down the stories of our faith we should see them as they are – coming at us with all the abrasiveness of a Nolan Ryan fastball and all the surprise of a Mariano Rivera cutter – breaking upon us and shattering our complacency (Brueggemann), but then we – meaning the Church as a whole – then we work hard to turn those stories back to anything but the life-changing, world-shattering parables they are meant to be.

Jesus tells his listeners that he is the Good Shepherd, and all sorts of images from the scriptures should be leaping to mind – Many of them are images of strong, compassionate leadership in their ancient lives, and others are quite challenging. 

David, their icon of kingship and the one with whom God makes an everlasting covenant, was first a shepherd – who became a king – with mixed reviews, we might add.  Just ask Uriah – oops, can’t do that because David had him killed. 

Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Isaiah each speak about disingenuous shepherds – those who lead Israel astray (Jeremiah 23:1-6, Ezekiel 34:23-24, and Isaiah 56:11-12).  On the other hand, Isaiah likens God to a compassionate and good shepherd who feeds God’s flock, Israel, and gently carries them in God’ arms (Isaiah 40:11).

Jesus tells his listeners that he is the Good Shepherd and his listeners stop like one of those old E. F. Hutton commercials – waiting to see where Jesus will take that image.  For those looking for a bit of edginess, Jesus doesn’t disappoint. 

Like his parables of the lost sheep in Matthew (18:12-14) and Luke (15:3-7) the first images that come to mind might echo Isaiah’s image of God as a good shepherd.  It sounds idyllic – it sounds the way we want the world to be – peaceful, beautiful, and comfortable – no danger on the horizon at all.

But then the worm turns.  “The Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep,” says Jesus.  Shepherding is a risky calling, and unlike the hired hand, who may flee when a pack of hungry wolves or a band of marauding bandits descend upon the flock, shepherds stand in the way and if necessary, fight for the lives of their the sheep.  The Good Shepherd is not tame, nor are shepherds meant to be tame, domesticated people – and they do not live in a tame, domesticated world – and neither do we.

The Good Shepherd comes into a world where there are thieves and wolves.  The Good Shepherd comes into a world where there are major earthquakes and avalanches, where there are school shootings, drug problems, and struggles to be treated with the same simple dignity and justice that everyone else experiences – and the Good Shepherd risks his life – lays down his life – for his sheep. 

And I’m guessing we want to smooth over the abrasiveness, the shock, and the anxiety that comes with any expectations that the Good Shepherd might be calling us to be anything like him, risking our comfort or even our lives, in the overwhelming places of this world.

When we hear – and listen to – and allow ourselves to be challenged by – the author of First John, we realize just how difficult this following of Jesus can be.  “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.  How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need, and yet refuses help?  Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action” (3:16-18).  

We are called to confront the gulf that exists between thought and action – starting with one another, but extending to the world around us – extending God’s love and mercy to all – no matter the cost (Michaela Bruzzese, Preaching the Word, Sojouners On Line, 4/26/2015).  Jesus says, “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27).  And I think: “Really?” I didn’t quite hear you, Jesus – the TV was too loud! And the game went into extra innings!  And we had company for the weekend…and soccer practice!  Live our lives as a reflection of the Good Shepherd?  Lay down our lives for one another?  I – I think I’m busy that weekend!

When our faith becomes the sweet, sappy stuff of cute little kitten or puppy memes, we’ve lost our way – and perhaps even the ability to be energized, challenged and motivated by that faith.  Even our most beautiful, idyllic, and pastoral Scripture passages carry with them the edgy reality of life. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…” begins a glorious hymn about green pastures and calm waters – but doesn’t get by without reminding us of the “valley of the shadow of death,” or reminding us that God sets a table for us “in the midst of – not away from – our enemies” (Psalm 23). 

No, even in our most hope-filled passages of scripture there is nothing tame about a God who stands in the breach for and with us – and who calls us, as followers of the Good Shepherd, to do the same for one another. And so, we’re left with the struggle with what it means to be a follower of Jesus – we’re left to struggle with an undomesticated, sometimes abrasive and surprising faith, and decide how to emulate the Good Shepherd – becoming good shepherds unleashed upon the world.  We get to decide how to go about living out a faith that is anything but trivialized and tame – but a faith that is always accompanied by Jesus, the Good Shepherd.