The Lord is my shepherd

A sermon based upon John 10:22-30

In the name of Jesus; amen.

In the name of Jesus; amen.

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 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.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

The Lord is my shepherd; it’s a strange notion for a modern day people. Shepherds aren’t real prevalent here in CT and in the 2 ½ years that I’ve lived here I have yet to see any sheep.

In college, my senior year, I had friends whose dorm room was in a house half way between the freshmen dorm and the fraternity houses on campus. Their room had a deck and so during the first few weeks of classes we would sit out on the balcony and watch as the freshmen, who weren’t supposed to be going to frat parties yet, march in herds down the path that would lead to them to the kegs of beer that waited for them. As they passed we would bah at them.

They were sheep without a shepherd going toward a drunken doom.

The Lord is my shepherd. There are still shepherds today; after all there are still sheep. But to say that the Lord is my shepherd seems an odd thing when you live in a city or a small town where there are no such things; where it isn’t common place.

Shepherds weren’t thought very highly of in Jesus’ day. They were dirty, menial workers. They weren’t highly educated, if they were educated at all… and yet Jesus chooses this image to describe himself.

It might have reminded the people of King David. He started as a lowly shepherd boy who slew a giant with a small stone and a slingshot, but most would have thought of dirty workers who spent their time out in the fields tending animals.

The Lord is my shepherd. The people gathered around him wanted to know who Jesus thought he was. Our translation has them asking “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” But the actual Greek is more like, “How long will you take away our life?” Or perhaps more accurately, “How long are you going to keep annoying us? Just say it, will you?”

Jesus’ reaction is to talk about his sheep, those who hear his voice and who follow him. Jesus did not need to come out and say that he was the Messiah, his teachings and actions had already said plainly who he was.

The Lord is my shepherd. Sheep and their shepherds have a unique relationship. I read a story once about a man who had gone to the Holy Land to meet and work with actual shepherds. He studied how they cared for the sheep, learned the words they used to call them, watched how they interacted with the sheep. Then he asked if he could try and the shepherd said go ahead. So the man called the sheep and they wouldn’t come. He tried over and over again, but he couldn’t get the sheep to listen to him. Finally he asked the shepherd what he was doing wrong and the shepherd told him. The sheep know my voice; they will only answer my voice.

When we proclaim the words of the 23rd Psalm we are claiming a similar relationship. If Jesus is our shepherd then we hear his voice and follow him. If Jesus is our shepherd then Jesus knows us, he can pick us out of the fold, call us by name and we will answer.

I joked about the freshmen at college. We really did bah at them because it seemed clear that without a shepherd guarding their every move they made their way straight into the den of wolves along fraternity row. But the fact of the matter is that even when we stray from our shepherd Jesus still knows us and calls out to us until we hear him again.

This is the promise of this gospel story. The Father has given us to Jesus the Shepherd and this is more important to Jesus than all else. It is so important that we are given eternal life so that Jesus can be our shepherd for all time.

Jesus is our shepherd in our times of want, when our souls are depleted, when death casts its shadow over us, and when we are surrounded by our enemies.

We are Jesus’ sheep and Jesus is our shepherd. This isn’t a casual relationship. Jesus knows us and in knowing us Jesus cares for us and protects us so that no one or thing can snatch us away from him.

The Lord is my shepherd is an assurance of being gathered and fed, protected and loved no matter what. Not even death can claim us because the shepherd places us in the hands of the Father.

In light of the events 2 weeks ago, I should mention other college students; students who with their teachers seemed snatched away by another angry college student. Jesus called to them too and led them through the valley of the shadow of death into the safety of God’s fields of life. They were not snatched away from the shepherd.

The Lord is our shepherd, who loves us, and shelters us from all evil. His voice calls to us. He knows each one of us. Listen for his voice and follow. Amen.

Hopeful Thomas

A sermon based on John 20:19-31

In the name of Jesus; amen.

The famous preacher, Franklin Fry, once said, “I am 49% atheist.” (Or so I’ve heard.)

I find it a remarkable thing to only be 49% atheist because there are days that all I can do is cling to the one percent of me that still wants to believe. Those moments of doubt strike at weird times and at sensible times; they strike when I least expect them and when I am fully prepared for them, but they strike none the less.

Today’s gospel reading is an important story for the life of every Christian believer. It comes in 3rd right behind Christmas and Easter and in 4th place if you want to add Good Friday to the list. It’s an important story because it talks about disbelief, doubt and uncertainty and most Christians, even the most firm believers, struggle with those things from time to time.

John tells us that at least 10 of his followers were huddled together in a room and they were afraid. The events of two days before haunted them despite what Mary Magdalene had said, despite the fact that Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved had witnessed the empty tomb that very morning. Their lives were in danger and they had seen first hand what the consequences of capture and arrest would be.

Then Jesus comes, stands there in the room with them and says, “Peace be with you” and everything changes. They forget their fear, start to rejoice, Jesus fills them with the Holy Spirit and disappears.

Then Thomas shows up.

Now it was reasonable for Thomas to doubt. All the other disciples had doubted until Jesus showed up in that room that night. They had not believed when they had been told by Mary that she had seen the resurrected Jesus. Even Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved were skeptical when they had seen the empty tomb, all they knew for certain was that his body was now gone.

It was reasonable for Thomas to want some proof. Mary had gotten proof and so had Peter and the others. Jesus had appeared to Mary called her by name and then she believed. Jesus had come and stood in the room where the disciples were hiding and had shown them his hands and feet and the wounds that were there.

It was reasonable for Thomas to react just the way he did. It’s a crazy story and even if Thomas weren’t the most practical or the most skeptical of the disciples it would have been hard to believe. Even if he had been the most open-minded, the most faithful of the disciples it would have been hard not to doubt.

And for a week he must have struggled as his friends told and retold the story of what happened when he wasn’t there. It must have burned. It must have eaten him up inside. Either they were all crazy or he had missed it. Either they were playing a sick joke on him or Jesus hadn’t thought he was important enough for a personal appearance.

All week he continued to live in Good Friday’s shadow. Whether he wanted to believe what the others said or not he hadn’t been a part of what had taken place that night in that room; he hadn’t seen what they had seen.

Ever wonder why Jesus chose then to appear? Wouldn’t he have known the Thomas wasn’t in the room? Do you think he did it on purpose? Because I think he did. I think Jesus purposefully waited until Thomas wasn’t in the room that night. I think he timed it until he knew that Thomas wouldn’t be there because at best all of us are 49% atheists.

At best all of us doubt sometimes. At best we live in the shadow of Good Friday and there are days that shadow lets in very little light.

The story of Thomas is our story. We weren’t in the room that night and there are plenty of reasons to doubt the validity of the claim the others made. There are a million and one reasons to not believe 2,000 years later to add to the greatest reason Thomas had: he had seen Jesus dead!

And yet, Thomas finds himself back in that room. A week goes by and he is there with the others, the same ones who told him this crazy story of seeing his friend resurrected.

And that’s the key. As easy as it might be to doubt it’s just as easy to give up and walk away, but Thomas didn’t. He was still there a week later.

When you doubt, and you will… don’t walk away… don’t give up. We call him doubting Thomas, but we should call him hopeful Thomas because even in his doubt and unbelief he continued to hope that the story he had been told was true.

And it is true. Believe it or not. Jesus died and then was raised. And Jesus will come to you, even if you have locked the doors, even if you doubt. Jesus will offer you peace that shines light into our Good Friday world. It happens.

Do not let go of hope when you doubt, but continue to gather with the community of faith, continue to pray, continue to question, the peace of Christ will come to you.

It did for hopeful Thomas.

Amen.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

A sermon for Easter 2007 based upon

Luke 24:1-12

In the name of Jesus; amen.

What were they remembering as they made their way to the tomb?

Were they remembering the way to go? Which turns to make, what landmarks to pass? Were they remembering the ritual that they were about to perform? Did it remind them of other times they had done it?

Were they remembering the list of spices that they carried? Had they remembered to bring everything? Was something missing?

What were these women remembering as they watched the sun come up on their way to his grave?

Joanna had been a financial supporter, the wife of Herod’s steward she had supplied money for his ministry. Was she remembering putting the coins in his hand, the look in his eye as he thanked her?

And Mary, the mother of James, one of his disciples; what was she remembering? Was it the first time her son told her about this man he was going to follow? Did she remember worrying back then what might happen when she let him go?

What about Mary Magdalene? Was she remembering that moment when he had freed her from the demons that haunted her? Was that the moment stuck in her memory… or was it the moment when she had watched him lifted up on the cross? Was it the moment that she saw that he was dead?

What were they remembering as they went to the place they were sure he would be?

Memory is a funny thing. Sometimes it can sneak up on us unawares and make us giggle or bring a tear to our eye. It can bring on feelings of guilt once thought quelled or make us crave food we haven’t tasted in years.

There are memories I wish that I could retain and memories I wish I could forget. There is an incompleteness to memory. It only shares with us bits and pieces of what really happened. I always find it interesting to reminisce with old friends because I am amazed at the things that my mind has retained and the things it has forgotten.

Our memories as much as our past shape us; they create who we are and help us process who we want to be.

As they walked to the tomb these women’s memories were changing them. This is what happens when someone dies especially someone we hold dear, someone we have supported, spent time with, laughed and cried with. Because when someone dies you become uniquely aware that your connection to them is now only through memory.

They believed all they had left was yesterday and the time before that.

Whatever they were remembering, they had forgotten something.

When they came to the tomb they found that the stone had been rolled away. They had remembered that it had been put there. Certainly they remembered the size and shape of it; they must have remembered the sound of it grinding against the rock behind it as it was moved to seal the tomb. It must have been a noise etched into their memory, one that made them cringe when they thought of it.

They remembered that his body had been wrapped and placed in the cave. They had watched it happen… every agonizing moment, but when they went inside he wasn’t there and they were perplexed.

It wasn’t like they remembered? Had they gotten it wrong? Taken a wrong turn? Entered the wrong tomb?

“This is the place, isn’t it?”

And then suddenly two men in dazzling white appear and they are terrified… “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

Where were their memories then? Because they remembered him dead… dead and gone. That was their last memory of him. He had been taken down from the cross, wrapped in a shroud and put in a tomb… there were no other memories.

“Remember… remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.”

Then they remembered… they remembered his words, the thing that he had told them and suddenly memory turned into hope and hope turned into joy. And it didn’t matter that the others found it an idle tale… their memories had been transformed into a vision of the future.

See, Easter isn’t about memories, but how our memories are healed and made new. Easter heals our memories.

It heals our memories of guilt and sin… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we have forgiveness.

It heals our memories of sorrow and loss… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we have the surety of newness and reunion.

It heals our memories of brokenness and pain… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we might have joy in our lives with him.

Good Friday is a memory, but Easter is a present reality. He is not dead, but is risen!

Do not forget.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed! Alleluia! Amen!

Good Friday

READING John 19:16b-25a
16b So they took Jesus; 17and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. 18There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. 19Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." 20Many of the Jews read this inscription, because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek. 21Then the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, "Do not write, 'The King of the Jews,' but, 'This man said, I am King of the Jews.'" 22Pilate answered, "What I have written I have written." 23When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. 24So they said to one another, "Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see who will get it." This was to fulfill what the scripture says,
"They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots."
25aAnd that is what the soldiers did.

The Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all:
for the transgression of my people was he stricken.

In the name of Jesus; amen.

We had a phrase in high school, when we would see people being intimate with one another out in public. You know what I’m talking about when I say being intimate with one another out in public… making out at the mall or touching that went beyond holding hands out on the street. The phrase we would use was: “PDA” or “public displays of affection.”

It wasn’t something we needed to see except maybe in an R rated movie or on a soap opera. Sometimes one of us would be brave enough to say out loud, “Get a room” and hope the couple would get the hint that their behavior was inappropriate.

There are some things that aren’t meant for public consumption. There are some things that should be kept behind closed doors. There are some things that should not be publicized for the world to see.

“16b So they took Jesus; 17and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. 18There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. 19Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." 20Many of the Jews read this inscription, because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek.”
There were a lot of Jews in Jerusalem; it was around the time of the festival and Jews from all over the known world passed by the place where Jesus hung. They would have been people who spoke: Hebrew, Latin, and Greek. And there weren’t just Jews using that road. Other people, gentiles, would have found occasion to travel outside the city as well.

They would have seen the spectacle. Mothers would have shielded their children’s eyes as they passed, Fathers would have hurried their families along so that the image would have been blurred. Some would have stopped or slowed down, the way we do when we pass an accident on the road.

They would have read the sign, seen the blood, smelled the smell of death and sweat. Some would have taunted, others would have cried, and still others would have been indifferent. But they would have been witnesses and they would have known that the charge against this dying man was that he was the King of the Jews.

It was a public claim and a public death. It didn’t happen in a secluded room or in a cell deep within prison walls. It didn’t happen in an R rated movie or on daytime television when the kids are in school.

This was a PDA, a public display of affection.

Last week, I found myself explaining Salem’s Palm Sunday service to my almost 8 year old daughter. Our service is a little different than others. We focus, not on the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, but on Jesus’ passion and death. The service begins on a happy note; we wave our Palm branches and process around the church singing, “All Glory Laud and Honor to you redeemer King!” But soon enough the story of Jesus’ betrayal and death becomes more and more evident. We finish the service in silence and reflection after singing, “Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?”

“Why do we have to have services about bad things? She asked.

There is a reason why we don’t like PDA’s. They are personal moments, intimate things and we especially don’t want our children to see them, because it exposes them to stuff they aren’t meant to understand quite yet.

Except for this… except for this PDA of Jesus’ death.

“Well,” I said. “We want to remember this thing that Jesus did for us. We want to remember that Jesus loved us so much that he was willing to let bad things happen to him so that we would know that when bad things happen to us that he understands and that he is with us no matter what we go through.”

But there is more to it than just that. Jesus’ death was a public event because it was meant to be witnessed. We are meant to be witnesses to his suffering, to be pulled in and gawk at it, to experience it. It wasn’t meant to be a secret event that is whispered about or buried on the back page of the papers. We aren’t supposed to hurry past it or shield our eyes and try to forget.

This PDA is supposed to be public; this intimate act is supposed to be seen.

And it’s not just so that we get the idea that Jesus suffered for us. Hanging on the cross with Christ were all our sins and we are to be witnesses of that too.

Jesus aired out our dirty laundry on the cross and then washed it clean with sweat and blood. Publicly, Jesus took our sins, our failures, our guilt and claimed them on the cross. He let them be nailed up there with him for all the world to see and then changed them with each drop of blood and every agonizing breath.

Publicly, God recreated us in love. God threw arms around us and kissed us for all the world to see; God touched us intimately and proclaimed, “This is my love.”

It couldn’t be hidden, locked up in some room, shown only in secret when no one else was around. Jesus’ death was a public display of affection for the whole world.

Be a witness to it, let it pull you in, experience it, and live it publicly.

Amen.

Maundy Thursday

a sermon based upon

John 13:1-16; 31-35

In the name of Jesus; amen.

Last week my father called and asked when I was going to do his feet. It has become a tradition since coming to CT that I set aside some time to give my dad a pedicure each year before Maundy Thursday.

Now I love getting pedicures; it is an indulgence and when I have the ability to go and have my feet done I jump at the chance. So I try very hard to give my dad a nice pedicure when he asks because I know that he won’t indulge in going to a salon to have a professional do it for him.

There are some people who don’t like to have their feet touched. Feet are a funny thing. Maybe they don’t like how their feet look and so they are embarrassed to have someone else see them or maybe they are ticklish and so they can’t stand to have someone else touch them without breaking into laughter.

And so, this night is an odd night when we pull out a basin and invite everyone to come forward with bare feet and have someone else pour water over them and then take a towel to dry them off. It’s not quite a pedicure… but it is still a strange ritual inserted right in the middle of the service where we remember Jesus’ last meal with his friends.

If you are uncomfortable with the idea of coming forward, that’s ok. Like I said, there are people who just don’t like to have their feet touched and no one should worry about what others will think if they come forward, sit in the chair, and get their feet wet or not.

It was a strange thing that Jesus did. Right in the middle of supper he gets up, takes off his robe, ties a towel around his waste, gets a basin, and going from disciple to disciple begins to wash their feet.

But it wasn’t that their feet were dirty and Jesus just couldn’t stand it anymore so he decided to wash them himself. Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. And having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end…

Their feet were already clean. Feet were washed upon entering a home to take off the dirt and sand that they had walked through outside. Their hands would also have been washed… it was part of the meal-time ritual to wash one’s hands before eating.

This wasn’t something that Jesus had to do for them… it was something he did because he loved them. He was their teacher, their master, the one who they followed and suddenly there he was touching their feet, washing them, and drying them right in the middle of supper.

I’m sure they were all perplexed and a bit surprised, but it is Peter who speaks up… who brings up the weirdness of it. “Are you going to wash my feet?”

His feet were clean, they didn’t need to be washed and certainly he didn’t want Jesus to wash his feet. He should be washing Jesus’ feet if there was going to be any foot washing… but Jesus insists.

And something happens… Jesus is no longer master, but servant and friend. A new relationship begins for those gathered that night. They might not understand it at first, but later they will when they discover that the tomb is empty and Jesus stands, resurrected, in front of them. Later, they will understand why their feet were washed when Christ gives them a new mission to preach the gospel to the world.

Later they will understand that Jesus was sent to care for them so that they might care for others… that he loved them so that they might love others just as he loved them.

It was an odd thing to wash their feet right in the middle of supper. But Jesus did it so that they might understand their need to feel loved by him and to not resist that need or his love. We need the love of Jesus… love that is poured out in the water of washing and in the bread and cup of his supper. It is love meant to give us a part of him and to make us a part of his love.

It is love that makes us friends: friends of Christ and also friends to others, to those Christ has called us to serve.

Jesus’ love changes us. It makes us bare our feet and extend our hand. It makes us stop resisting our need for mercy, forgiveness, and love. And it fills us with a desire to serve, not because we are servants or less than others, but because it transforms our relationships with others.

This night, filled with odd traditions and a meal of ordinary stuff that becomes Jesus’ own body and blood is a night of transforming love, love that gets into us and wants us to share it with others.

Let it transform you, even if you don’t get your feet wet. Let it transform you as you come to the table. Let it transform you into a friend. Amen.