Preached on the Fourth Sunday of Easter (Year B), April 21, 2024, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Seattle, Washington by The Reverend Stephen Crippen.
Acts 4:5-12
Psalm 23
1 John 3:16-24
John 10:1-18
Shepherd and his flock, by Vincent Van Gogh
This homily is a short “starter” homily that encourages the assembly at our 5:00pm liturgy to add their own insights and reflections in conversation with the preacher. Gathered in a circle in the early evening, we enjoy this evening Eucharist as a more intimate form of worship on the Lord’s Day.
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A shepherd.
What’s a shepherd?
Our holy book is full of shepherds. A shepherd is up on the mountainside when a thornbush bursts into flame, but is not consumed. A shepherd is called from his work and, in the presence of all his older brothers, is proclaimed sovereign of the kingdom. Shepherds are working the night shift when the heavens split apart in glory and angels announce a wondrous birth.
Those shepherds may have been teenage girls. The job of shepherd was not glamorous, not an impressive bullet point on a resume. Even now, a livestock worker in, say, Montana, is not exactly killing it in our high-tech economy.
But our holy book is full of shepherds, and from its most ancient poets to the Christian Gospels, we borrow the image of shepherd quite often, when we’re trying to speak about God, about who God is, about how God acts in human life. “Adonai is my shepherd,” sings the ancient poet who composed Psalm 23. “I AM the Good Shepherd,” sings Jesus in the Good News according to John.
Why? Why shepherd?
Shepherd is a versatile role. A shepherd is quiet and serene, until the critical moment when the shepherd swings into action to protect the flock. A shepherd handles livestock in an everyday way, one sheep is much like another, and yet she starts to get to know the idiosyncrasies of each animal in her care. One human is much like another: we all share roughly the same genetic material; and yet each of us is unique. If God is a shepherd, then God recognizes my humanity, and yours, and everyone’s, holding us all equally in God’s sight; but God also knows what sets me apart, you apart, each living human person apart from all the rest.
Shepherd is a humble role. It’s not just a job for commoners, for farm kids, for unassuming country folk. It’s a job that’s close to the earth herself, the hummus, the mud and muck of the soil. The word “human” is related to “humble” and “hummus” – to mud and muck. Shepherds know about our dirty laundry, our bloody towels, our tangled bedsheets, our burial shrouds. If God is a shepherd, then God is down in the mud and muck with us.
But shepherd finally is a leadership role. Shepherds aren’t just working stiffs. In fact, Jesus in John takes pains to remind us that the shepherd is not like the “hired hand,” who does not care about the sheep and does not protect them from the wolf, whoever the wolf is. (Sometimes the wolf rises within the sheep themselves…) If God is a shepherd, then God takes us places. God directs. God leads.
A versatile and humble leader: God as Shepherd. From the very beginning of our story of faith, and that of our cousins in the Abrahamic tradition, we prayerfully discern God as our Shepherd; and we Christians proclaim Jesus as the Good Shepherd, the über-Shepherd, the one who breaks the mold.
We watch as Jesus in John steps between his flock and the soldiers swarming the garden gate to arrest him. We watch as Jesus lays down his life for his flock, lays his body at the gate of the sheepfold, the way first-century shepherds would do when the gate was not at all like our fine rolling metal gate upstairs, but just a gap in the low wall.
And finally if God is a Shepherd, then you and I, we are sheep. We’re sturdy, but not always sharp enough to perceive every threat before it is upon us. We’re fuzzy and warm, and we love our children, but we are vulnerable to predators, easily spooked, prone to listen to our fears. We need help. We need direction. We need the loving care of a strong leader.
I invite you to share your reflections on this intriguing and lovely image of God, God as Shepherd, and Jesus as the Good Shepherd. What pulls you in? What bumps you out? What kind of shepherding may you need the most? Or how do you yourself learn from Jesus how to be a shepherd for others? I invite your reflections on this, or on other images and ideas from our readings, or on this Easter season of renewing life and springtime hope.