Baptism Sunday
TEXT: John 10:1-10
Hearing
Our Names & Following
I don’t know how it gets in, but
opening my e-mail program I find a message awaiting my attention. I don’t recognize the sender, nor does the
subject line connect with any deliberation I currently have underway. But it has come to my address, sent to my
name. Surely that makes it all
right. Right?
Surfing the
web, attempting some research, I arrive at a website that snagged my
query. I don’t recognize the origin of
the content, nor the organization sponsoring the page, and some of the
information surprises me. But it’s on
the internet. Surely that makes it
valid; authoritative; true. Right?
Flipping
through the channels, killing time, I come across a preacher, flailing his
arms, slinging perspiration, and shouting about this and that. He’s captured my attention, and is now asking
for money. I’ve never heard of him
before, or what kind of a group he is with.
But he’s on television, and he’s talking about God, so surely that makes
him a trustworthy teacher. Right?
Munching on my
feed one night in the sheepfold, safe and comfortable and satisfied, some
stranger slaps my rear and tries to steer me and the others through the gate
that, come to think of it, never seemed to open to let this fellow in. But only shepherds gain entrance through the
gate, and shepherds have we sheep’s best interest at heart, so it only makes
sense to follow. Right?
No, just
because an e-mail has gained access to my “inbox” doesn’t mean it’s safe. No, just because someone has gotten access to
a web site and my search engine doesn’t mean it’s credible. No, just because someone has gotten on
television and uses the name of God, doesn’t make him a prophet. And as Jesus suggested in the image we’ve
read together, just because someone has gotten into the sheepfold doesn’t mean
he’s a shepherd. Not everyone who gets
access to us has our best interest at heart.
Some, as Jesus observed, are thieves, bandits, profiteers – ones for
whom we are simple means to their desirable ends.
Who gets
access to whom – and to what? We’ve been
learning the hard way in recent years about how much personal information about
us is “out there” in cyberspace. Social
Security numbers, bank account numbers, credit card numbers and more. We’d like to believe we are safe – that the
only ones who have access to it all are those who have legitimate need –
brokers, bankers, insurers, and stores – who use it all in the ways that we’ve
instructed, for our welfare and ease.
But as those can attest who have had their identity robbed, not all who
get into the sheepfold have come with permission through the guarded door. Thieves and bandits have broken and entered,
and are dragging the sheep not out to pasture, but to the packing house floor.
I think about
this question within earshot of the baptistry, where we just welcomed three
young Christians into newness of life. Who will they follow? To whom will they listen? Who will teach them, and have access to their
souls? As those who, thus far, have
shepherded them and led them; as those who, thus far, have encouraged them, how
will we continue to shelter and stretch and nourish and lead them?
And what about
us – most of us no longer children relying on parents to hover over us and run
interference: how will we continue to
grow in the faith, find safekeeping, and graze in the green pastures of holy
nourishment? Not always choosing who gets
access to us, and who is kept away, how do we discern who to follow? How do we distinguish the shepherds, who have
our best interests in mind, from the bandits and thieves just using us for
their own gain?
Jesus’
description affords some glimpse of wisdom.
The shepherd, he pointed out, “calls his own sheep by name and leads them
out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep
follow him because they know his voice.” I like that observation. It implies that the shepherd and sheep have
been together long enough to know each other’s name and the person to whom it
refers. They have forged a familiar
relationship, and have enough experience together to trust one another, and
rely. They have confidence in the safety
of each other’s presence.
That, I think, is one of the benefits of a long pastorate. We know each other pretty well, you and
I. We’ve developed a certain rapport
that I believe to be mutual affection as well as trust. Neither of us is everything we may have
respectively wanted, but we’ve learned enough about each other to know, along with
it, that neither of us is all that we may have feared. The balance, if tenure is any indication, is
decidedly in favor of the positive, otherwise we would have long since parted
company. At the very least we have
mutually concluded that, while we may not always help each other, neither will
we intentionally or knowingly hurt. For
my side, I can say it has been far more excellent than that. Relationship has a lot to do with who one
chooses to trust – the sound of a familiar voice.
But not everyone has such a pasture as this – and even this one will not be such a meadow for
awhile. This being my last Sunday for
the next 13, you are about to be confronted with a whole parade of preachers,
fully half of whom do not, in fact, know your name. Will they lead you anywhere you need to go,
and how will you manage to know? Perhaps
it is enough to trust them, because you have come to trust me, and I’m the one
who asked them. The truth of the matter
is that you have a delightful treat in store for the weeks of this sabbatical –
a time when you will hear wonderful preachers and nourishing sermons and get a
taste of wonderful ministries worth our attention and applause. I am not worried about the shepherds in this
room in front of you.
But there are other rooms we pass through from time to time,
and other voices as well. How will we
take the measure of them? Jesus offers a
second clue. “Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the
gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. The one who enters
by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep, and I am the gate for the sheep.”
What does it mean to “pass through the gate” of Jesus? We
have much still to learn about imitating Christ, but we have learned some
things already of the mind and heart of God’s son.
·
Phrases echo in our heads
about peacemakers being blessed, along with those who hunger and thirst after
righteousness.
·
We remember stories about
helping out the ditch victims we don’t even know, and seeing to their care;
about loving the least of those among us and how, in doing so, we find
ourselves loving Christ’s own self;
·
stories about welcoming
home a wayward son and forgiving a neighbor seventy times seven.
·
When we least expect
them, teachings will come to mind about the “first being last” and how those
who would be “great” must be the “servant” of all.
·
We remember as if it were
ourselves whose feet Jesus washed, how Jesus taught us to love one another; how
indeed people would know those who are his disciples by the way they love one
another.
I’m thinking all those memories and impressions create some
picture of what it means to pass through the gate that is Jesus.
·
Those who seek that kind
of way;
·
those who embody that
kind of purpose;
·
those who lead us deeper
into that holy vision…
…have come to us through the door. Of those who invite us to something else, beware! They are thieves and bandits who would steal your very soul.
I am looking forward, over the next few months, to spending extra time there beneath that lintel, passing back and forth through that gate, listening and learning, reshaping and imagining; trying, myself, to remember that not everyone who stands before us, who waves or shouts for our attention, who gets access to our fold is a shepherd.
But also trusting that when we hear our name spoken by
someone we know, someone who has gained access through that door, then we would
do well to listen, to follow, to eat and drink, and live. May God bless your grazing, over the next few
months – and mine.