The Church of St. Paul and Incarnation, Jersey City NJ
April 25, 2021
Year B: The Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 4:5-12
Psalm 23
1 John 3:16-24
John 10:11-18
A Sheepfold On the Move
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
I know that it’s almost impossible to believe, but about 160 years ago when a few Episcopalians first began to gather on this spot for worship and fellowship, they were surrounded by countryside.
In fact, back then this area was so rural that there was a herd of sheep that grazed just down the hill from here.
It’s true.
So, I guess that the first rector of St. Paul’s, the Rev. Fernando Putnam, didn’t have to work too hard in his Good Shepherd Sunday sermons for people to grasp the shepherd and sheep imagery that we heard today.
Just like people back in the first century, our Episcopalian ancestors would have had no trouble picturing a shepherd hard at work, no problem imagining the sight, the sound, and, yes, the smell, of sheep.
And, probably just like people two thousand years ago, the first people to worship in this church would have been struck by the image of Jesus as the “Good Shepherd” – or, actually, Jesus as a shepherd far better than good - a shepherd who sacrificed his life for the sheep – a sacrifice that was not expected of shepherds in Palestine, or the village of Bergen, I’m sure.
Of course, the land down the hill from here where those sheep grazed was paved over and built up long ago.
And, I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen a shepherd in person, and the only sheep I’ve ever met were at a petting zoo.
So, I don’t know – maybe the shepherd and sheep imagery doesn’t work quite as easily and as well for us in the built up and noisy Jersey City of today.
And yet, because even the loudest racket is no match for Jesus, we can still hear the call of the Good Shepherd, inviting us to be part of his flock, welcoming us into his sheepfold.
After all, here we are this morning.
The other day I was driving up Montgomery Street and I noticed that it looks like workers are beginning to finally demolish the nursing home that has sat vacant and forlorn, covered in graffiti, for the past couple of years.
Some of you may remember that for the first five or so years of my rectorship a few of us – Gail, Vanessa, Dee Dee, occasionally a few others, and I - offered a monthly healing service at that nursing home – first known as Liberty House and later Majestic.
The attendance at our service would vary from month to month, depending on the health and awareness of the residents, and the availability of staff, and also what kind of competition we faced from the other programming that was scheduled during our time slot.
On our way upstairs, I always looked at the calendar posted in the elevator to see what we were up against, knowing that the ice cream social would give us some stiff competition, but the not so popular “Let’s Clean the Closet” meant we would have a full house.
But we always had our regulars. And, I think I can speak for the rest of the team when I say that the residents and the employees became very dear to us – we came to think of them all as a kind of satellite congregation, part of our community.
The highlight of the service was Gail’s music, of course, which could cut through the doldrums of nursing home life and snapped people out of the fog of dementia.
And, no matter what shape they were in physically and mentally, almost everyone would join in saying the Lord’s Prayer – and they would also say the familiar King James Version of the Twenty-Third Psalm:
And, in that place of much suffering and sadness, it was hard not to get choked up as together we said:
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 thy staff they comfort me…
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Yes, Jesus the far-better-than-Good Shepherd continues to call us, inviting us to be part of his flock, welcoming us into his sheepfold.
And then, what?
Well, I think today’s epistle lesson from the First Letter of John gives us our answer.
The author of First John first reminds us of the far-better-than-Good Shepherd who laid down his life for us, and then insists that we ought to lay down our lives for one another – that we must care for people in need.
The author of First John asks the haunting question, “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?”
And then he adds, “Little children, let us love, not in word or speech but in truth and action.”
Truth and action.
Now, I admit that I don’t know much about sheepfolds but I’m pretty sure that the sheepfolds in first century Palestine and in nineteenth century Bergen stayed put – the sheep mostly just standing around, safe behind gates or walls, grazing in the same spot day after day.
But, Jesus the Good Shepherd’s sheepfold is different – it’s not tied down to some specific place.
No, Jesus’ sheepfold is on the move.
Jesus the Good Shepherd calls us to follow him, to follow his example, to give away our lives in service to others – to love not in word or speech but in truth and action.
A sheepfold on the move.
So, you know, for as long as I’ve been associated with the church I’ve heard talk about how we need to get out of our buildings and take the church out onto the streets and into the world.
I’d like to think that over our past eight years together we’ve done that – at least sometimes.
On Good Friday we’ve carried the cross through the bloodstained streets of Jersey City.
In Jersey City Together, we have worked with others to demand safe streets, affordable housing, and decent schools.
We took a chance and opened our community center down at Triangle Park.
Over on Storms Avenue, Deacon Jill opened the doors to the world, creating the Lighthouse as a safe place for asylees and refugees – people who are the very definition of brothers and sisters in need.
Yes, we have taken the church out into the world - well, sometimes, at least.
But, this year has been something else.
As you are well aware, the pandemic has shut most of us out of our church building – and if we didn’t know it before we know it now – this building, as much as we love it and cherish it, as much as I love it and cherish it and will miss it so much – this beautiful building with foundations laid by faithful Episcopalians 160 years ago – this building is just a small part of the sheepfold.
Jesus’ sheepfold is not like other sheepfolds.
Jesus’ sheepfold is a sheepfold on the move.
A few months ago when I signed on the dotted line and accepted the call from St. Thomas’ Owings Mills, I was sure that by now the pandemic would have eased enough that many of us could gather together here in our sanctuary – not quite what it was like before, but together, at least.
To be honest, I try not to think too much about how that has turned out to not be possible, though we hope to have some afternoons together outside over the next few Sundays
But, the day will come when our red doors will be open again.
And, when that day finally arrives, my hope is that we won’t forget the lessons of this hard time – that we won’t forget that we really can be the church out there.
My hope is that we won’t forget that we can pray over the phone or share our burdens and hopes in our small groups.
My hope is that many more of us will support Triangle Park and the Lighthouse and Jersey City Together.
My hope is that we will once again bring song and prayer and healing to the residents of nursing homes, people who despite much suffering are able to hear – are desperate to hear – the voice of Jesus the far-better-than-Good Shepherd.
My hope is that, whether we’re here in New Jersey or in Maryland or wherever, we will love one another not in word or speech but in truth and action.
Jesus continues to call us, inviting us to be part of his flock, welcoming us into his sheepfold.
But, Jesus’ sheepfold is not like other sheepfolds.
Jesus’ sheepfold is a sheepfold on the move.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Amen.
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