Sermon 2011515
Called by Your Name
Psalm 23 (KJV)
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.
I remember family trips growing up in the Antelope Valley; when we were traveling through the desert on our way to the 15 Freeway, we’d sometimes see flocks of sheep grazing around a camping trailer.
To a suburban kid, the life of a shepherd looked like lonely but peaceful. I remember thinking that the worst thing about being a shepherd must be boredom; what did he or she do all day? I didn’t really know what it meant to be a shepherd; I lived in a suburban neighborhood and the closest I ever got to a sheep was Easter dinner.
To a suburban kid, the life of a shepherd looked like lonely but peaceful. I remember thinking that the worst thing about being a shepherd must be boredom; what did he or she do all day? I didn’t really know what it meant to be a shepherd; I lived in a suburban neighborhood and the closest I ever got to a sheep was Easter dinner.
Growing up, that’s the image that came to mind when I heard Psalm 23 or our theme scripture for today; a guy sitting outside a camping trailer—maybe reading a book or taking a nap—for hours and days on end, surrounded by his flock. Boring, maybe, but also easy work.
A shepherd’s life, of course, was far more complicated and far more trying than I imagined, and it turns out that at least some of the time, a shepherd isn’t a shepherd at all.
You see, in the Old Testament “shepherd” imagery typically indicated political leadership. A shepherd was a king. A good king—like a good shepherd—provided his subjects (the sheep) with food and drink, righteous leadership, security and comfort. In Psalm 23, King David describes the best King of all, God.
What does that mean in the context of today’s Gospel lesson?
John 10:1-10 (The Message)
He Calls His Sheep by Name
1-5 “Let me set this before you as plainly as I can. If a person climbs over or through the fence of a sheep pen instead of going through the gate, you know he’s up to no good—a sheep rustler! The shepherd walks right up to the gate. The gatekeeper opens the gate to him and the sheep recognize his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he gets them all out, he leads them and they follow because they are familiar with his voice. They won’t follow a stranger’s voice but will scatter because they aren’t used to the sound of it.”
6-10 Jesus told this simple story, but they had no idea what he was talking about. So he tried again. “I’ll be explicit, then. I am the Gate for the sheep. All those others are up to no good— sheep stealers, every one of them. But the sheep didn’t listen to them. I am the Gate. Anyone who goes through me will be cared for—will freely go in and out, and find pasture. A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.
Shepherds didn’t have the easy life I imagined when I was a kid. They faced all the same dangers and difficulties as their sheep did. They were just as vulnerable as their charges: to weather, to human and animal predators, to the dangers of the landscape where their sheep grazed. They slept with their flocks at night when they slept at all; if predators were in the vicinity they didn’t sleep at night. They slept in the opening of the sheepfold, keeping the sheep in and the human and animal predators out. And despite their wealth of livestock, because they left their families alone and unprotected they were considered poor marriage prospects. Being a shepherd was hard.
That was the traditional model of a good king (or other political leader): one who knows his flock intimately, who leads them to good forage and safe haven, who stands in the gap to protect his sheep from those who would harm them.
And that’s the kind of life Jesus lives with and for us. Jesus journeys with the most vulnerable, and takes upon himself their vulnerability. Jesus knows what it’s like to be out in the cold. When he calls people to leave their homes and families—to become shepherds themselves—he knows what he’s asking; he’s done it himself. In fact, it’s this life that Jesus calls the abundant life (John 10:10 [KJV] “I am come that they may have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”).
The Pharisees Jesus was talking to (see John 9) knew full well both the hardships that shepherds endured and the political implications of claiming to be a shepherd. Jesus continued:
John 10:11-20 (The Message)
11-13 “I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd puts the sheep before himself, sacrifices himself if necessary. A hired man is not a real shepherd. The sheep mean nothing to him. He sees a wolf come and runs for it, leaving the sheep to be ravaged and scattered by the wolf. He’s only in it for the money. The sheep don’t matter to him.
14-18 “I am the Good Shepherd. I know my own sheep and my own sheep know me. In the same way, the Father knows me and I know the Father. I put the sheep before myself, sacrificing myself if necessary. You need to know that I have other sheep in addition to those in this pen. I need to gather and bring them, too. They’ll also recognize my voice. Then it will be one flock, one Shepherd. This is why the Father loves me: because I freely lay down my life. And so I am free to take it up again. No one takes it from me. I lay it down of my own free will. I have the right to lay it down; I also have the right to take it up again. I received this authority personally from my Father.”
19-20 This kind of talk caused another split in the Jewish ranks. A lot of them were saying, “He’s crazy, a maniac—out of his head completely.”
Many of the Pharisees called Jesus crazy. And people will call you crazy if you truly follow where Jesus leads. But to quote Wilbur Turnblad (who I played on-stage for the last time last night), “You can’t worry about people calling you names. You know how many times I’ve been called crazy? But I say, ‘Yeah, crazy. Crazy like a loon!’”
Those who truly follow Jesus—His example, as opposed to what pundits and pastors say—will be called crazy. Jesus doesn’t play by the same rules our politicians, pundits, and profiteers do. He isn’t serving Himself, but rather the sheep of His pasture. It isn’t the kind of “practical” logic our world elevates; it’s God’s logic. It’s not “the greatest good for the greatest number” (and let the rest go hang); it’s the greatest good for each and every individual. None of us are social security numbers in God’s logic. Each of us is precious in our own right, and not just as part of a larger whole.
Jesus calls us by name. We are the sheep of his pasture. He knows us, and puts us before Himself. We matter to him. He kept the promise He made, to sacrifice Himself for us if necessary. It is our part as His sheep to know His voice and follow His lead, even if he leads us into “the valley of the shadow of death.”
It might be hard to follow Jesus, but He is Lord; all other candidates fall short. Bosses, politicians, parents, possessions, ego, causes; none of them stand in the gap for us the way Jesus does.
It might be hard to trust Jesus, but when we do we are freed: freed from the need to judge and divide, freed from anxiety about the future, freed from fear, freed to love all the other sheep of every fold.
Jesus calls you by name. He calls you to the abundant life; a life without assurances of worldly security but also a life in which we are freed from our own prejudices and pettiness.
Jesus calls you by name. Will you follow?
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