Drawn to Jesus
Clare L. Hickman
St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Ferndale
May 3, 2020—Easter 4A
Acts 2:42-47; John 10:1-10
I have mixed feelings about getting to play the part of the sheep in this story. Sheep, after all, are not known for their intelligence. Or their independent thinking. Or, quite frankly, their exquisite fragrance. So, I’m not crazy about sheep as a model for what it is to be a child of God, for what it is to be a Christian.
Surely God isn’t actually looking for a herd mentality? Perhaps simple-mindedness is not a goal? I’m positive unwashed wool isn’t a requirement.
In fact, I’m not convinced our likeness to sheep is the point. It’s the shepherd that’s the focus: the shepherd as a model of protectiveness and shelter. In today’s passage, this is apparent not only in the person of the shepherd, but also in the gate: the gate that protects the sheep from harm; the gate that also provides the pathway that leads to life-giving water and pasture.
God is the shepherd. Jesus is the shepherd. The protector, and the one who leads us into life.
Our sheepiness is not really the point. Still, there are always things to be learned from the poetic imagery of the biblical story. And I heard something about sheep the other day that touched a chord in me. One of the guys in the “Same Old Song” podcast (episode 80) talked about a conversation he’d seen between a writer and a shepherd from Oregon. They were standing out in the pasture, and she was telling this writer about sheep, and how they live and what they do. And the whole time they’re having this conversation, the shepherd is whispering.
At some point, the writer asks her why. To which she responds: Because if the sheep hear my voice, they will all come running. She then demonstrates, speaking just in a normal tone. And sure enough, they all come, bleating, and baaing, and butting at her legs.
The sheep are drawn to the voice of the shepherd. By instinct. Because of experience. Knowing that he or she is the source of protection, guidance, and life!
My God, how different our lives could be, if we were a little bit more like sheep in this way! Imagine what that would be: to allow ourselves to be drawn to Jesus, to listen to the voice inside that assures us THIS is the way to the only true safety, and to fullness of life.
We don’t. So often, we don’t. Because there are other voices telling us other things, pulling us in other directions. Doubtful voices telling us that he couldn’t possibly want us; scornful ones, suggesting we couldn’t possibly want him, wouldn’t want to be hanging around with a bunch of lame sheep like that! Other leaders, promising us shinier things and an easier path than the one Jesus offers. Voices of all kinds that advertise a more individual path, one in which we take care of ourselves, our own needs, our own protection, our own private abundance.
My head is very crowded with all of these voices. Some of them seductive, some of them scary, some of them scared. All threatening to drown out the part of me that longs to follow the one voice that leads to pasture. The one voice that calls me to a true and brave fullness of life. The one that, as soon as I catch it on the air, pulls me towards it. Even when it is calling me out of what feels like safety. Even when it is calling me to join myself to something larger, something I’m not quite sure of. Because it feels so strange, because it asks so much, because the trust is so radical.
It calls. He calls. And something inside me WANTS to go!
That’s what we see in action in today’s reading from Acts. Here we have this early community of believers, who are alive with trust in the Risen Christ, who are filled with power of the Holy Spirit. And they had all things in common, we are told, selling their possessions and goods and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need.
This is not really like any economic system we’ve ever seen. It’s not like Capitalism, which fosters a competitive, “everyone for him or herself” model. And it’s not like Communism, which requires a compulsory surrender of possessions. This is communal living that people have been drawn to, like the sheep are drawn to the shepherd, because it fills them with gladness and generosity. Because it draws them closer to the Shepherd himself.
One of the things we find hard about being called to be sheep is the idea of giving up independent thinking. But that isn’t really what we’re called to surrender. What we’re called to surrender is individualistic thinking. Christianity calls us, Jesus calls us, to see ourselves as an integral and connected part of a larger community. Our needs are inextricable from the needs of the flock. And the flock, he tells us over and over again, is far larger than we think. It’s not just the sheep next to you. It’s the sheep in the next town, the next state, the next country. It’s the cute fluffy sheep you adore, and it’s the mangy old sheep over there that you can’t stand.
We are connected. We are one flock. And what affects one of us, affects all of us. Our life, our health, our well-being, are all interconnected. And when we live like that: when we let go and allow ourselves to live as one flock: taking care of each other, and letting others take care of us … then the voice of the shepherd is clearer. We can hear him. We can feel his voice within us, we can sense his presence nearby. Around us, between us, within us. Christ is there. The Good Shepherd is there, nurturing us and protecting us from the only things that can really kill our soul: disconnection, selfishness, greed, apathy… Jesus takes care of that part, and then WE can take care of each other’s more concrete needs for food, shelter, healthcare and the like.
In the gospel of John, salvation is synonymous with relationship. Relationship with Jesus, which cannot be realized without relationship with each other. Love one another, as I have loved you.
It is his love for you that calls to you, that draws you forward. That draws you into gladness. That draws you into a risky, life-giving generosity. That invites you to care and be cared for. May it be so. Amen.