The Gate is Love: Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Easter A

Last summer, you may remember that I and several of us from the diocese visited the island of Iona in Scotland. One of the centerpieces of our adventures there was a guided hike to the bay on the Southern end of the island which was named after St. Columba, the monk credited with bringing Christianity to Iona from Ireland. 

At the midpoint of our hike, we walked across a broad flat field which was dotted with sheep. Right before we had reached this open area, it had started to pour down a rather cold rain and a cold wind was blowing in off the North Atlantic. We hikers were huddled together for warmth each time we stopped to meditate on our pilgrimage to St. Columba’s Bay.

It was at one of these stops that I looked over noticed that there were sheep pens scattered around the edge of this broad field. They consisted of low stone walls about five feet high, and as I peered through the downpour I could see the black and white faces of sheep peering out through the open gates in these structures. You can see a picture of one of them on the cover of our bulletin today. Frankly, they were probably looking at us like we were nuts to be walking around rather than seeking shelter ourselves.

That image of the sheep in the sheepfold came to my mind as I meditated on our readings today. Every year on the 4th Sunday of Easter we here scripture references to shepherds and sheep. We hear the beloved 23rd Psalm, which is always one of my favorites, as I'm sure it is to many of you. But this year, as I considered how we are still struggling with how to deal with keeping each other safe in a time of pandemic, the image that seized my attention was not that of the Shepherd, but that of the gate that Jesus first mentions in our gospel reading.

I had heard it said before, but the reality of the sheep pens that Jesus was talking about was more like what I saw on Iona. There really was no structure that was a gate. The gate was simply an opening. As night approached, with all its dangers, the shepherd would actually lie down across the opening to keep the sheep safely in and the predators safely out. I think especially since we have been feeling restless behind our locked doors and our self isolation, the reminder that a gate works both ways --that it lets people in and lets people out, that it welcomes as much as it may bar entry, is an apt metaphor for our time.

Some people have used this idea of Jesus as the only gate as a means of excluding people from God's promises to always care for us. This exclusionary rhetoric flies in the face of the repeated scriptural witness Of God never giving up on us, Of God pursuing us whenever we go astray, Of God loving us so much the God even gave us God's son to try to show us the best way to live a fully human, and therefore fully God-shaped life. This all too common tendency to want to exclude rather than embrace flies in the face of Jesus's final sentence in our reading today: “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”

We need to remember the context in which Jesus is speaking here in John 10. Our story here picks up from the 4th Sunday in Lent. Then we heard the story of the man born blind from birth receiving his sight and being questioned and eventually driven out by the Pharisees after he then became a disciple of Jesus. Our reading today comes immediately after some of the Pharisees hear him calling THEM blind AND sinners because they can see but choose not to see that Jesus is the Messiah. The man Jesus healed was known throughout the community as a beggar due to his disability, but Jesus’s healing had given him the opportunity to be truly free and independent for the first time in his life. Yet all the religious leaders could see was that Jesus had once again challenged their strict enforcement of rules by healing on the sabbath. 

Jesus had opened this man’s eyes, but also opened the way for him to live a life unencumbered by physical disability that was so much a part of the societal structures then. These leaders would have much rather have had that man remain blind and suffering than have Jesus challenging their authority. Jesus then pointed out that they were being willfully blind to what the laws of Moses required, and to what their duties as leaders should have been. What we need to remember is that a shepherd was a traditional metaphor for leadership. 

Jesus’s claim to be a shepherd echoes imagery from the 23rd Psalm. Throughout Israel’s history, claiming to be a shepherd is also a claim to kingship, since the kings of Israel were described as shepherds (and indeed, both David and Saul had been employed taking care of their fathers’ sheep before being chosen as the next king by God). Kings were described as shepherds because shepherds are a kind of selfless leader who will lay down his life for his sheep. 

Israelite kings were not kings through divine right alone, but also servants of the people. Further, as we see in passages like the 23rd Psalm and Ezekiel 34, God claims authority as the ultimate shepherd. That reminds leaders of their responsibilities to rule with an authority that seeks to nurture rather than exploit. And I think we do well to be reminded of this standard of leadership today, during this worldwide crisis.

Yet, history is scattered with kings and leaders who have not been “good” shepherds. As early as Ezekiel 34, kings were denounced if they endangered their people. And in this time of fear of coronavirus in 2020, this is a warning to those leaders who put profit about the wellbeing of the people, who are willing to design policies that will inevitably endanger people for whom they are responsible as the elected leaders in a democracy. There is a warning embedded in v. 1, where Jesus refers to “thieves” and bandits” seeking to get into the sheepfold and harm the sheep.

By claiming to be the Good Shepherd, Jesus is not only declaring his love and willingness to lay down his life for his followers, he is also making a claim to kingship, and not least of all, to being God. Yet at the same time, while Christ is ruler over all, he is also one who serves us and protects us, who will do anything, even accept death, for us. 

The shepherd is also a humble image. If you have ever seen people who are sheepherders, like the Navajo in New Mexico and Arizona, you will know that herding sheep is not glamorous work. It involves being watchful, being away from your family for long stretches of time as you guide the sheep to where there is good pasture and water, and it involves being constantly ready to protect the sheep from accidents like falling into crevices or from being attacked by predators such as wolves, coyotes, or bandits who want to steal the sheep. Being a shepherd involved patient endurance of boredom and restriction of movement in order to bring life to the sheep. Sound familiar?

This a time when the valley of the shadow of death described in Psalm 23 looms large before our eyes. Yet the comfort in this image is a reminder to us that going through times of crisis like this is not a sign of being abandoned by god—Far from it! It doesn’t mean that we are being punished for some sin through the emergence of this pandemic, no matter what some bad shepherds may claim. We are reminded that that even the right pathways have taken the sheep and their shepherd through the “valley of the shadow of death.” We are not promised that we will not face trials, even as we seek to follow God. The right pathways God wants us to follow may lead us into danger, even crisis, yet if we remember that God is with us and is OURS as well as we being God’s we cannot be afraid. The last verse of psalm 23 emphasizes that God’s promises are trustworthy and the foundation of all blessing.

By using these humble images of a shepherd and a gate to describe himself, Jesus is not only calling to mind passages like Ezekiel 34, which denounced the corrupt kings and authorities who endangered their sheep and who only cared about their own well-being. Jesus was reminding us that real power lies not in oppressing others but in being willing to sacrifice to care for those in your charge. To talk about responsibilities rather than demand rights and obeisance and privileges. That real freedom is life-giving only when it seeks to do no harm at the very least, but when it seeks to free others from oppression, anxiety, and danger.

And yet, we are letting ourselves off the hook regarding our responsibility to each other if we only imagine ourselves as the sheep. As we watch violent demonstrations break out in some parts of our country even as the death toll in the US alone surpassed 65,00 people this last week. We are called to a different way. Being disciples of Jesus calls us, ourselves, to serve as the gate and as the shepherd for others, especially those who feel lost, isolated, or afraid. It calls us to a life of service to each other, especially those who are at risk of being lost, of those who are vulnerable. It calls us to fight against the false leaders, the thieves and bandits who live by cruelty, indifference, and division. To remember that the gate is love.

We are called at this time to BE the shepherd, and to embody the voice of love that seeks to unify rather than divide. We are called at this time to be the gate through which others can access safety, protection, and shelter. We are called to be the leaders who care for those around us rather than demand our own way. We are called, especially at this time, to expand the horizons of our concerns beyond selfishness to making the protection of the most vulnerable our greatest treasure and good. May we be led by Jesus’ example to make sure that others may have life, and have it abundantly. 

Amen.

Preached at the 10:30 am online service at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.

Readings:
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10