Consolation and Challenge

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
May 3, 2009

Year B: The Fourth Sunday of Easter
(Acts 4:5-12)
Psalm 23
1 John 3:16-24
John 10:11-18

Consolation and Challenge

Today’s lessons and psalm offer us a mix of the familiar and the unfamiliar, a mix of consolation and challenge.

The 23rd Psalm definitely falls into the familiar and consoling category, doesn’t it? Thinking about the 23rd Psalm, I was reminded of an experience I had early in the ordination process when I attended my first conference – a series of meetings with members of the Commission on Ministry who asked me a variety of questions about my sense of call for the priesthood.

It was the first time I was being asked questions like this by strangers and in a formal setting, but I was fortunate enough to have some good mentors who prepared me well for the kinds of questions you get asked at this kind of thing – so, although nervous, I felt I was ready to talk about why I wanted to be a priest.

Things got off to a good start and then I got what felt like a curveball question. One of the members of the Commission on Ministry asked, “What’s your favorite psalm?”

I stated at him blankly. “My favorite psalm?” I said, cleverly stalling. “Yeah, what’s your favorite psalm?” he said in reply.

After an uncomfortable pause I finally admitted, “I’m not sure I have a favorite psalm.”

He looked at me for a moment and then we went on to talk about other things but the whole rest of the time I felt that sinking feeling in my stomach. How could I be a priest if I couldn’t name my favorite psalm?!

At the end of our interview he looked at me and said, “If anyone ever asks you that question again, I’d suggest you say the 23rd Psalm.”

No one ever did ask me my favorite psalm again, but it was a good piece of advice. Especially in the King James Version and especially in times of fear or loss the 23rd Psalm offers us the profoundly consoling image of God as the good shepherd…

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and they staff, they comfort me.

And I’m sure the 23rd Psalm has been in many of our hearts and on many of our lips in recent months and days as many of us in this community have worried about the economy and some of us have faced illness and some of us the death of one we love.

Maybe through tears and with queasy stomachs and perhaps even with anger we say those familiar words,

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

And just as famous - and maybe even more consoling - as the 23rd Psalm is the passage we just heard from the Gospel of John in which Jesus declares,

I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.

Of course, there are many other examples of sheep and shepherd imagery in the Bible. And, of course, the Bible was written by people who were very familiar with the everyday lives of sheep and shepherds – they didn’t need to use much imagination when they thought of God as a shepherd or of Jesus as a good shepherd, laying down his life for the sheep.

But, here in lovely suburban Morris County it is all too easy for us to romanticize the pastoral imagery in this gospel passage. It’s easy for us to imagine the sweet scene of Jesus looking after the cute little lambs – perhaps even carrying one of the sheep around on his shoulders. It’s a scene that’s often depicted in religious art, isn’t it?

But if we stop and think about it, there’s nothing romantic about being a shepherd. It’s a hard and unpleasant and tedious way to earn a living – spending day and night with smelly sheep who, let’s face it, are none too bright.

Yet in the gospel passage, Jesus goes even further than the psalmist when he declares that he, the good shepherd, lays down his life for the sheep. John’s Gospel tells us that Jesus the good shepherd loves these stinky and not very bright sheep – loves us – so much that he lays down his life for us.

There’s nothing sweet or romantic about it - the good shepherd living and dying for the sheep. Instead the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ is an awesome, mind-blowing flesh and blood reality.

And maybe we’d all like to stop right here. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. And Jesus is the good shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep. Sounds good to me – I feel very consoled.

But today the church also offers us a reading from the First Letter of John – a challenging reading that should make us very uncomfortable.

First John was probably written after the Gospel of John, some time around the start of the Second Century. And it seems like this epistle was written during a time when there was a major and painful split in this early Christian community – a community that was shaped by the Gospel of John.

We only get one side of the story in the Bible, but it appears that some people in this early Christian community were downplaying the humanity of Jesus. And since they were downplaying the humanity of Jesus it would follow that they would downplay the real, unromantic, flesh and blood death of Jesus on the cross.

It seems that at least some of these early Christians preferred to think of Jesus mostly as a divine being and not so much as a real flesh and blood human being. It will be a continuing challenge throughout Christian history to remember that Jesus is both fully human and fully divine.

Anyway, the author of First John writes this epistle in an attempt to correct these errors, insisting that it is in Jesus’ flesh and blood life and death, in Jesus’ flesh and blood sacrifice, that we see God’s love.

We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us.

So far, so good – still very consoling. But then here comes a curveball for all of us. Here comes the challenge for all of us… The author of First John continues,

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 to help?

So, yes, today’s lessons and psalm offer us consolation.

Yes, the Lord is my shepherd and I shall not want.

And, yes, Jesus is the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep.

Yes, it’s in this sacrifice that we see God’s love.

We’ve received our consolation; we’ve received our assurances of God’s love. And now as Christians you and I are challenged to lay down our lives for one another. And it’s in our unromantic, flesh and blood sacrifice, our loving sacrifice for one another, right here and now, that the world sees God’s love.

It’s quite a challenge. It’s easy for us to love and sacrifice for our family and friends. But the author of First John has the whole community in mind when he writes, “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 to help?”

Most of you know that I used to be a high school teacher. Believe it or not, many times I would get frustrated by students who obviously didn’t want to be in my class, who wouldn’t or couldn’t do the work, and who sometimes even cheated on tests or quizzes.

And when I would get frustrated I would try to remember what a wise older teacher once told me. She said that we always had to give our best even to the kids who drove us up the wall because they were deeply loved and cherished by someone – hopefully a parent or a grandparent. And even if they didn’t get love from a parent or a grandparent, they were deeply loved and cherished by God.

Just as the Good Shepherd sacrifices his life for the sheep you and I are challenged to show that God’s love abides in us by sacrificing ourselves for one another – for people who drive us up the wall and for people we may not even know.

Our faith challenges us to sacrifice for one another and we may very well wonder if that’s just religious pie in the sky stuff, since our society insists we must look out for “Number One” first and foremost.

But if we look around we have so many examples of people sacrificing themselves not just for people they know and love but for strangers - brothers and sisters who are loved and cherished by God.

On Monday as I was driving along Greenwood Avenue on my way to the vestry meeting I had to pull over to make way for a fire engine racing into Madison from Florham Park. As I got closer to Main Street from the smoke I saw that it was a pretty bad fire. As I passed by I thought of our own parishioner, Ed Nunn, who’s a captain in the Madison fire department, and then saw another fire engine arriving from Cedar Knolls.

Most of us take the fire department for granted, but what an example of flesh and blood sacrifice. They stand ready to sacrifice for strangers – but still beloved brothers and sisters.

Here are two other examples, a little less dramatic, but still impressive.

If you were around here two weeks ago you saw a core group of people who spent the entire week here at church getting ready for the rummage sale. I don’t think they gave up so much of their time out of a deep love of rummage. Instead, they offered this unromantic, flesh and blood sacrifice because they know the good that comes out of the sale.

A couple of weeks ago we had our turn at the Community Soup Kitchen again, and you can read in the Messenger about all the people who donated food and/or spent the morning cooking and serving food. I was particularly struck by the people who spent so much time and money preparing tray after tray of what looked like delicious chicken so that, at least this day, these strangers – but still beloved brothers and sisters will have a substantial meal. And I was also struck that day by the parishioner who spent the entire morning over the sink washing hundreds of trays and scouring pots and pans.

You can probably think of many more, but these are just a few examples of people hearing the challenge given to all of us in today’s lesson. 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 to help?

Today’s lessons offer us a mix of the familiar and the unfamiliar, a mix of consolation and challenge.

In the life, death and resurrection of Jesus the Good Shepherd we have received our consolation.

And now, strengthened by Christ’s loving sacrifice, we are given the challenge of sacrificing ourselves, laying down our lives, for one another.

Amen.