Easter 4B – April 26, 2015
St Stephen Lutheran Church, Pittsburgh, PA
The Rev. Maurice C Frontz III STS
It
seems that every Christian of a certain generation
used
to memorize the 23rd Psalm.
Whenever
I read it in a nursing home,
I
would always use the King James translation,
rather
than the newer ones we use in worship,
because
it was sure that half of the group
would
be reciting it with me,
some
who hardly knew where they were
and
almost never spoke
praying
it reverently with eyes closed,
transported
back to who knows when.
The
imagery is perhaps unmatched in the psalms.
It
is a feast for the senses.
It
is a sunlit place, this pasture,
the
blue sky, the white clouds, the green grass,
the
quiet murmur of the brook,
the
darkness of the valley,
the
scented olive oil,
the
rich wine of the table.
It
was perhaps so popular
because
it is so personal.
The
rest, the comfort, the peace.
And
all of this is for ‘me.’
In
the midst of an uncertain and confusing
and,
frankly, a dangerous world,
a
world of war and work and worry,
there
is a resting place for me,
a
quiet place,
a
place that is safe and secure
from
death and evil and all that harms.
And
it is God himself
who
brings me there and keeps me there.
I
am able to trust in the God
who
is depicted in this psalm,
who
relates to me as a shepherd does to the sheep,
who
has sworn to protect me.
The
Gospel of John shows us a Jesus
who
speaks of himself as the Good Shepherd.
Who
knows whether or not it was this psalm
Jesus
had in mind
when
he took this title for himself?
But
in Jesus’ image,
it
is not the delights of the pasture which predominate.
Rather,
it is the unity of the flock
and
the cost of that unity,
for
the good shepherd lays down his life
so
that the flock may not be scattered,
so
that the individual sheep may not be picked off one by one.
As
Jesus tells his own story,
the
story of his death and resurrection,
we
may see in our mind’s eye
the
shepherd interposing his own body
between
the predators and the prey,
striking
and being struck.
Even
as the last predator is felled by his staff,
he
sinks to the ground,
overcome
by his wounds.
Having
laid down his life for the sheep,
he
has shown himself the only one worthy to shepherd the sheep.
And
he rises to take up his rod and staff again
so
that his sheep may always rest securely;
to
bring even more sheep to the sheepfold,
so
that his flock may be multiplied.
It
is a kind of parable,
a
way into our understanding
of
what the man who is God
does
for his people,
what
Jesus does for his Church,
and
indeed what we, as the people of his Church,
are
called to do for each other.
For
sheep and shepherd is only one metaphor
for
the relationship of Jesus and Church.
King
and servants; teacher and students;
mother
hen and young chicks,
master
and stewards,
all
are ways that the Scripture or Jesus himself
testifies
to our relationship.
We
run the risk of becoming too comfortable
with
the image of sheep and shepherd alone.
God’s
protection, yes; God’s guidance, yes; God’s trustworthiness, yes.
But
sheep have no responsibilities
other
than to graze and grow wool and bleat occasionally.
Jesus’
people, however, are called to a life of responsibility.
True,
sheep are not called to be like the shepherd,
but
students are to be like the teacher,
and
stewards are to preserve and improve the master’s property.
When
John writes his letter,
he
does not tell his hearers simply,
‘Jesus
laid down his life for us,’
he
goes on to say,
‘We
ought also to lay down our lives for one another.’
When
we hear ‘lay down our life,’
we
are quick to think of those Christians like St Stephen,
who
were killed for their witness to the faith,
and
of those around the world today
who
are experiencing persecution,
sometimes
at the cost of their lives.
Because
we are not in their situation,
we
might think that the call to lay down our lives for one another
only
applies to certain Christians,
and
that the rest of us may admire their martyrdom from afar.
But
while John would not dishonor this kind of martyrdom,
he
has in mind something far more difficult for us.
‘How
does the love of God abide in those who have the goods of the world
and
yet refuse help?
Let
us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.’
To
lay down our lives is one thing,
but
to be responsible with our checkbook?
To
live simply that others may simply live?
This
is made so much harder in our country, in our culture,
by
the fact that the lines between luxury and necessity
have
become so blurred as to be almost completely indistinguishable.
While
we should not anguish over whether we are living simply enough,
(for
of course, we are not saved by our works)
we
ought to keep hearing the call to
love in truth and action,
for
we are saved to bear good fruit,
fruit
that will last,
so
that God may be honored.
This
kind of laying down our lives
may
be more threatening to us than the actual prospect of dying for the faith,
because
it is possible.
We
do not need to imagine a faraway fantasy of laying down our lives,
the
concrete opportunity is right in front of us,
to
love our neighbor as Jesus loved us.
If
the command last week was to bear witness,
then
the command this week is to lay down our lives,
in
the way we give and live each day.
Let
us not water down this command of our Lord Jesus,
let
us not regard it as a burden which oppresses us
but
as a blessed opportunity
which gives us a way to honor the one
which gives us a way to honor the one
who
laid down his life for us on the cross.
And
so life with Jesus
is
even more exciting than depicted by Psalm 23.
It
is still life with an overflowing table,
with
green pastures,
still
waters,
and
pleasant pathways,
with
the rod and staff of protection and favor,
but
because the sheep hear the voice of the shepherd,
and
know the character of the shepherd,
they
become like the shepherd,
they
are led into paths of righteousness,
and
they will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
