Easter 4C; John 10:22-30 St. Paul’s
Smithfield, NC 4/17/2016
Jim Melnyk “What Will You Do With My Love?”
Taking a stand on
anything can set us up for critique – just try talking Blue Devils/Tarheels
during any season – and don’t even get me started on the Carolina Gamecocks
versus the Tarheels. So it’s no wonder
that taking a stand centered in the Gospel – centered in the teachings of Jesus
– and speaking out for compassion, for justice, or for mercy often turns heads
and causes consternation for a lot of people.
Have you ever
noticed? All it takes is one voice – one
voice speaking for the disenfranchised, for the oppressed, for the forgotten,
or for the unloved, and people start to get uneasy – or angry. Sometimes folks start to get worried and
begin wondering, “Are they talking about me?” or “How will all this crazy Jesus
talk affect me?” And so those who find
themselves in love with power or authority or comfort – those whose lives are
comfortable and secure, especially at the cost of others – well, a word spoken
to those in such powerful places is a disconcerting word at best. The powerful find themselves tempted to ask,
“What are you up to? What are you trying
to prove? What are you trying to pull
over on us?”
The leaders in
Jerusalem where asking deep, metaphysical questions of Jesus – “Just who are
you, anyway, Jesus?” “How long will you
keep us in suspense?” they ask. “Tell us
plainly!” The phrase in their ancient idiom
actually translates, “How long will you keep on killing us? How long will you keep on annoying us –
badgering us? Just come out with it,
Jesus! Are you the Messiah or not?” You see, Jesus is keeping them on pins and
needles.
They can’t figure
out which way to turn – what to do with this peasant troublemaker from the
sticks in Galilee. If Jesus were to say
“No, I’m not,” they could simply dismiss him and the crowds would eventually
get tired of him and leave. If Jesus
were to say “Yes,” they could charge him with blasphemy, and hopefully still,
the crowds would leave – perhaps out of fear of being tarred with the same
brush.
But Jesus will have
nothing to do with them. “Look at who I
am,” he says. “Consider what you’ve seen
and heard – let your own eyes and ears tell you. But,” Jesus seems to be saying to those in
power, “But, until you’re actually ready to hear – until you’re actually read
to see and believe – whatever I tell you will make no sense. No matter what I say, you need to decide for
yourselves just who it is that I am.”
Jesus, with his one,
small voice proclaiming the compassion of God, stirs up the people’s spirits
until he becomes a bona fide threat to the power of the religious and political
leaders of his day. Jesus’ message of
compassion – his message of mercy – his message of justice – his message of the
love of God made present among them – gets in their faces, and their hard-heartedness
and anger become their own judgment.
Just a few moments
earlier in the encounter – in verses we read on other years for the Fourth
Sunday of Easter – Jesus claims the title of “Good Shepherd,” the One who hears
the cry of his people – the One who knows their voices, and whose voice is
known by all. He also calls himself to
be the very Gate through which the sheep enter safely, and the One who stands
watch at the gate so that no thief may break in. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, the One who is
willing to lay down his life for his sheep, even when those who claim to be the
shepherds of Israel will not. And this
One Voice is too much for those who have claimed the role of shepherd for so
long.
Those hearing Jesus
call himself the Good Shepherd cannot help but be mindful of the rich
metaphorical history of shepherds in the stories of their faith. Moses was a shepherd when God called to him
out of a burning bush and sent him back to Egypt to shepherd God’s people out
of slavery into freedom. David was a young
shepherd who was not even invited to the celebration when the prophet Samuel eventually
anoints him the new king of Israel.
Rulers who abused the people during time leading up to the exile were
described by the prophets, and therefore described by God, as negligent
shepherds who didn’t care for their flock.
And suddenly here is this no-account Jesus – one of the sheep, mind you
– putting the shepherds on their ears and taking from them their title.
But as much as Jesus
is unwilling to play word games with his antagonists, he can’t resist pushing
them from a different direction. When
Jesus claims, “The Father and I are one,” he’s making more than a metaphysical
statement the Church will end up debating ad nauseam in the third and fourth
centuries. What he’s saying has a
down-to-earth, real-life, meaning to it.
See me – see God. In Jesus there
is a palpable presence of God – and through Jesus there is a uniquely new way
of understanding and knowing God. “The
Father and I are one.
We speak with one
voice – we speak with one agenda – we speak with one goal – the reconciliation
of all humankind – the reconciliation of the whole of creation with the very
God of creation.
“For God so love the
world,” that God gave us God’s only son – to be a vision – to be a voice – to
be the presence and the promise of God’s saving love for all people for all time. In Christ Jesus we receive an over abundance
of God’s love poured out for us – and poured out within us: a veritable
love-fest for all of creation – but a love that’s meant to make a difference in
this world – a love that says to us, “I don’t make junk – it’s time for you to
start loving one another.”
The Good Shepherd’s
voice is the voice of love that asks us, “What will you do with my love? How will you let my love for you – how will you let my love
for this world – change your life? Where
will it stand you on your head? When will
it turn your heart inside out? When will
it give voice to the song that sings in your heart, that stirs your soul, and
makes your spirit long to dance?” The
Good Shepherd’s voice is the voice of love that asks our world, “When will you
stop drawing lines in the sand that separate you from one another, and separate
you from God, and start drawing circles that welcome each other into my love?”
Speak out for
compassion – speak out for justice – speak out for mercy – proclaim a love of
God that welcomes all rather than excludes – and you’ll freak out more than a
few folks. It happens when Jesus tries
it – and it happens today. Speak out
about gun violence, or about homelessness, or healthcare, or hunger and
heartache, and a lot of folks feel threatened. Speak out against discrimination in its too many
poisonous guises, and folks will get antsy.
And sometimes even though we agree that these things need to be
addressed, we get angry with one another over how they should be fixed. Put it in terms of the Gospel and then we’ve
gone from preaching to meddling. Speak
out about the love of God in the fullness of its glory, and there are people
who will feel threatened! Surely God
couldn’t love that person, or that group, or people who believe that way!
People will feel
threatened by the love of God because it’s the kind of love that turns tables
upside down and hearts inside out. Speak
about the love of God in all its radical reality and some will turn and walk
away – because it’s the kind of love that changes people’s lives – it’s the
kind of love that changes people’s hearts – it’s the kind of love that makes a
difference in this world – the kind of love that can make this a different
world – and not everyone wants to see those changes.
Amen, my friend.
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