The Shepherd & The Gate - The Rev. Gigi Miller

Does anyone else have trouble finding the name of someone you want to talk to in your internal Contact list? When my extended family gets together, I cycle through the names of kids, partners, grandkids, dogs, fish, even a bearded dragon before I finally get to the name of the person (or pet) I want. And yet, a year ago, my daughter told me that my infant granddaughter looked around and smiled when my voice came through the speaker in the Comfort Room; she knew my familiar tone and responded.

Today’s lectionary readings include some of the most endearing portraits we have of the Divine. But wrapped in the cozy images of intimacy and security is a warning and, maybe even, a call to action. In the chapter of John’s Gospel just before this one, Jesus heals a blind man and confronts the Pharisees’ disbelief in the miracle, accusing them of spiritual blindness. Jesus continues teaching them and his disciples with a mini-parable, using comparisons of sheep and shepherds they might easily understand.

Sheep generally get a bad rap in our culture; they’re considered unintelligent - to be a sheep means to go along with the group, to not think for yourself. But sheep know what plants are beneficial and which to avoid. They take care of their offspring, ensuring that the youngest are in the center of the flock. And they keep track of each other while grazing, lifting their heads to maintain eye contact and communicate. However, they are prey animals without natural defenses and are easily distracted, which is not a good combination. So, domesticated sheep, in the first century and now, need protection.

Sheep use their excellent hearing to distinguish between the sounds of predators and those of their dedicated shepherd, whether that’s a human or a dog. And it’s this ability to recognize and follow the shepherd’s voice that Jesus highlights, showing us something about our relationship with God. Since we’re the sheep in Jesus’ story, who are the “thieves, bandits, and strangers” trying to distract us from God’s constant presence?  

In our modern world, some social media influencers use AI-generated images to convince us that we’re not “enough” as we are. If only we’d use this product or subscribe to their YouTube channels, we’d be worthy of recognition. The dark parts of the web send vulnerable people into spirals of alienation and despair and even goad them into violence against themselves or others, as in last night’s assassination attempt in Washington, D.C.

Government officials misuse Scripture, and even quote fictional Old Testament verses, to defend violence and military actions. Of course, this is nothing new; the pre-Civil War doctrine of Manifest Destiny held that God ordained the expansion of the United States across the continent, in the process expelling indigenous peoples from their ancient tribal homes. And leaders used verses like the ones in today’s Epistle to condone American slavery.

But the worst “thieves, bandits, and strangers” often call from inside the house, so to speak. Past traumas, current anxieties, and fears of future catastrophes whisper their insidious messages of pain and shame, catching us in cycles of doubt and insecurity. A yoga teacher told the class to “Treat your body as if it belongs to someone you love,” which is wonderful advice. But Jesus wants us to treat our hearts and minds as if they belong to someone God loves. We can cut through the noisy chaos of our lives when we listen to the Spirit’s song of unceasing forgiveness and compassion.

During our women’s retreat last weekend, we basked in the sayings of Julian of Norwich, an English 14th century mystic, who lived through endless war and the bubonic plague, “the valley of the shadow of death” in today’s Psalm 23.  Even so, Julian would agree with the psalmist, that God, “is with me” and will “spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me.” The psalmist believes that God’s “goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” The word “follow” is more closely translated from its original Hebrew as “pursue” or “chase.” So, God’s goodness and mercy chases after us, like a good shepherd with rod and staff to defend us, making sure we don’t get lost or fall victim to harm. As Julian heard God say, “All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well, for there is a force of love moving through the Universe that holds us fast and never lets go.”

Unfortunately, Jesus’ audience either didn’t understand his metaphors of sheep and shepherds, or didn’t want to understand them, in the case of the Pharisees. So, Jesus tries another tactic and compares himself to the gate through which the sheep pass to safety into their enclosure at night and emerge in the morning to graze in the psalm’s green pastures and still waters. Jesus isn’t only our guardian from the deathly voices of the world that attempt to lure us away from God’s sweet invitations of grace; his resurrection is the path by which we “have life, and have it abundantly.” In fact, Peter says in his Epistle that Jesus “left you an example, so that you should follow in his steps” on the path to the fulfillment of God’s creation. And what is that example?  

The lectionary reading stops before the next verse in which Jesus states “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.” Theologian Barbara Taylor Brown tells a story about what happens to a flock of sheep after their beloved shepherd dies, and no, they don’t become detectives as in an upcoming movie by the same name.

Brown says the flock fell asleep after a big meal with the sound of the shepherd’s flute in their ears. As they slept, they shared a nightmare in which wolves carried their shepherd away and killed him on the outskirts of town. In this horrible dream, they gathered for three whole days, unable to think or even move, so terrified were they that the same thing would happen to them without their shepherd’s protection.

Brown writes “On the third day, they heard a flute – far away at first, then drawing nearer – that woke them from their sleep, and they stood once again the presence of their good shepherd. Everything was the same, but everything had changed. They had fallen asleep as sheep, but they had woken up as shepherds. Everyone had changed into the image of their guide, and as they stood there staring at one another, he handed them staves like his, and flutes, and sent them out to gather their own flocks.”

This is the Easter miracle - not only that death’s grip on humanity is broken and that we live in our Creator’s promise of everlasting life. But, by following our good shepherd’s voice, we are empowered to speak this Good News into our soul sick world. Unlike me, God immediately knows our names and calls us to recreate that vision of the early church Luke describes in Acts, a beloved, blessed community of teaching, fellowship, sharing our abundance, and thanking God, where “awe overcame everyone.”