Sermon - Following Along Behind

John 10:11-18

Following Along Behind

James Sledge                                                                          April 29, 2012

When I was in seminary, I had the opportunity to take a three week trip to the Middle East and Greece.  It was a remarkable experience, and I got to see all sorts of wonderful historical, archeological, and religious sites.  There was much on the trip that was memorable, but one of the more vivid memories for me was not one of these sites but something I saw along the way.

I'm not sure which site we were headed to or coming from.  I think maybe it was the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.  Our group was on a charter bus, and we were driving along a winding road through the undulating hills of the region. 

As I looked out my window, I spotted something moving across the rocky terrain, headed down into a valley.  Focusing on it, I realized that it was a young Palestinian boy.  He looked to be around twelve years old, and he was walking along a well-worn path.  And right behind him, in a single fill line, followed twelve or fifteen sheep.  He was not even looking back at them.  He simply walked along the path, and the sheep walked right along behind.  It looked a little like a teacher leading a group of elementary students to the cafeteria.

I've since learned that this is fairly typical of Middle Eastern shepherding practices, both nowadays and in biblical times.  I suppose that my notions of herding were shaped by cowboy scenes with huge numbers of cattle being driven.  But with sheep, in biblical lands at least, it is a more relational activity.  The sheep learn to trust the shepherd, and so they will follow where he or she leads.  I could not hear anything as I gazed out the bus window that day, but I suppose that the young boy must have called his little flock and then headed down that trail with them following along behind.                       

"I am the good shepherd.  I know my own and my own know me."  This is one of a number of I AM sayings in the gospel of John.

  It doesn't really show up in English, but John utilizes a way of writing "I am" that is not the normal way to do so.  This emphatic speech evokes the Exodus passage where the divine name first revealed to Moses at the burning bush is a form of "I AM." 

In John's gospel, these I AM sayings emphasize Jesus' divinity.  They are explicit claims that to meet Jesus is in fact to encounter God.  And Jesus' own identity is deeply bound up in his being “the good shepherd.”

In the movie The Wizard of Oz, right after Dorothy’s house crashes into Munchkin land, she is asked, "Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?"  Good or bad?  Jesus says that he is the good shepherd, but Jesus does not compare himself with a bad shepherd but rather a hired hand.  In fact, Jesus' words may well be translated as "I AM the true shepherd," or "I AM the model shepherd."  The issue is much bigger than good versus bad.  Jesus is the shepherd, the true shepherd, the way to true life.  The sheep hear his voice and follow.

Of course sheep sometimes get lost.  Something frightens them and they run off, or they simply wander away.  And I suppose that when lost sheep get tired and hungry enough, they may follow another voice.  "Maybe this one can get me safely home."

There are certainly plenty of voices calling to us, saying to us, "Follow me.  I know the way to happiness and fulfillment.  I know the way to life worth living."  We are constantly bombarded with calls to follow, with messages that tell us we will not be content unless we walk the path of acquisition, of "more."  We hear shepherds who tell us that “I” is much more important than “we,” than community and others.  We need to look out for ourselves, our town, our country, first and foremost.

And to make matters more difficult, we are also bombarded with voices that claim to speak for Jesus, voices that sometimes sound so shrill and angry and hateful that it is difficult to imagine why anyone who isn't frightened or desperate would follow them.  Many of these voices are no doubt well intended, but they often bear little resemblance to the self-giving, self-sacrificial love of the true shepherd.  They sound more like cattle drivers with whips than the true shepherd who loves us and calls us by name.

My favorite author of late is a Franciscan priest named Richard Rohr who is the director of something called The Center for Action and Contemplation.  He has written countless books, and has been one of my chief spiritual guides in recent years.  I receive his Daily Meditation via email, and on the day I began writing this sermon it read, "Anybody who has ever loved you well or has felt loved by you always feels safe. If you can’t feel safe with a person, you can’t feel loved by them.  You can’t trust their love.  If, in the presence of God, you don’t feel safe, then I don’t think it is God—it’s something else."

When I first read those words, they drew me up short.  If you don't feel safe, then it isn't God.  I wonder how many people of faith would agree with that.  I’ve certainly had times when I did not feel all that safe with God, and I know people whose faith seems marked more by anxiety than a sense of security and safety.

Perhaps this is because we often reduce faith to a formula or contract.  And whether your formula reads "Be good and get rewarded," or says, "Believe the correct things and get rewarded," such things seem almost designed to create anxieties.  There is always a chance that I've not been good enough, or that I've not gotten my beliefs laid out quite right.  And then what happens?

It's easy, and often fashionable, to criticize the Church for its hypocrisies.  This often ignores much good that is motivated by Christian faith, from movements to end slavery to efforts to combat hunger and homelessness.  And yet, despite the good done by the Church, it is true that most of us don't fully embrace the call of Jesus.  We struggle to do things such as love our enemies and pray for those who hate us.  God is rarely the very first thing in our lives, and we're not the least bit inclined to sell all that we have, give it to the poor, and live a life of total discipleship.

In part this is simply because it's hard.  The call to discipleship requires a self-denial that is difficult.  But I think there is something more to it than that.  Very often discipleship feels more like harsh command than a safe invitation to follow.  Even when the words come from Jesus himself, they are often delivered by a pastor urging more commitment from a congregation.  Very often they feel more like a cowboy trying to drive us forward than the voice of the true shepherd who loves the sheep deeply, and who walks ahead of the sheep, traveling the same path he calls us to take.

"I am the good shepherd, the true shepherd.  I know my own and my own know me."  In John's gospel, "to know" means much more than cognitive awareness.  It is a relational term.  It speaks of love and trust.  And I think it speaks of that sense of safety Father Richard Rohr insists is a part of any true and full experience of God.

People get started in church, along the road to faith, on the quest for spirituality for many reasons and by many ways.  But I am convinced that faith and spirituality remain immature and unformed - and sometimes even take on destructive forms - until we experience a love like that of the true shepherd that enfolds us in peace, safety, and security. 

We pastors are very often thought of as being like coaches or leaders of other organizations.  Our job is to inspire and encourage, to get people to give their all for the cause.  I suppose there is a bit of truth to this, and I have played coach many times, urging the congregation forward.  But I have increasingly come to think there is a more important task.

I have come to see the role of pastor less as a coach, or even as a shepherd, and more as one of the sheep who calls to the others saying, "I have found the true shepherd, the one in whom I am totally secure and safe.  I have found one who loves me like no other.  I have found one who I can trust so completely that I would follow him wherever he leads."