“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.”
The season of Epiphany has been all about God revealing himself to his people. In Advent we await the coming King. At Christmastide we stand awestruck as God enters our filth. In Epiphany we see the perfect revelation of God in Jesus Christ. Epiphany drives us to contemplate what it means for Divinity to fully intersect with fallen humanity. Jesus stands wrapped in common cloth with dirt-caked feet on a hill and yet reveals himself to glow brighter than the sun and converse with the prophets. Jesus crosses the surface of the waters like they are streets of glass only to enter a smelly fishing boat full of peasants.
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Amen.
Last week we talked about Jesus being the bread of life. Jesus was trying to show those around him that they were working for the favor of others. The hole they felt — the sense of not belonging — could only be permanently filled by God’s love, the bread of life. This week, Jesus continues to explain to us what it means for him to be the bread of life. Like Jesus, I think we need to clarify and establish a few things before we can get into the meat of this.
Let us pray, Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Amen.
On Sunday my priest preached a sermon from Ephesians 4 and something from that sermon has sat with me all week. I’d like to share it with you in the context of today’s gospel reading from St. John.
Ephesians 4 is all about unity in the Body of Christ. “There is one body and one Spirit… one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all…” St. Paul here is describing the perfect community of the Kingdom of God we are all called to live into in our baptism.
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Amen.
It is easy sometimes to forget who — or even whose — we are. The messaging we get from those around us in society and sometimes even our families and friends is a constant stream of not being enough. We’re never cool enough, rich enough, attractive enough, smart enough, good enough, worth enough — the list goes on and on. It would seem we never have enough to merit attention.
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Amen.
Today is the fourth Sunday of Easter, often called “Good Shepherd” because of the gospel reading.
Though each Sunday is a sort of mini-Easter, the Sundays from Easter until Pentecost are especially so.
The question to answer today, is what does a good shepherd have to do with the death and resurrection of Jesus?
First, let’s get our bearings about where we are in John’s gospel.
In the previous two chapters, Jesus has been teaching in the temple and, naturally, his favorite friends the “scribes and the Pharisees” have tagged to ask him potentially entrapping questions.
In the midst of this, things get a little hot in the temple — Jesus nearly gets stoned — so Jesus leaves.
On his way out, Jesus heals a man from blindness, which of course the priests and other religious authorities do not believe. In chapter ten, Jesus is responding to these events.
Not only these events, but he is responding to some inquisitive Pharisees who seem to have started questioning their initial impressions of who Jesus is.
So, the initial context of this is Jesus taking the time to teach those who in our modern reading we automatically cast as the bad guys.
What hope this gives people like us who often find themselves on the wrong side of God’s will!
He is always there waiting to answer our honest advances for relationship. Even when we’re not yet fully committed.
Now for a little context around when all of this is taking place.
This whole scene in and around the temple is taking place during what we would now call Hanukkah.
I won’t go into the whole story, but at this point the feast was about 200 years old.
It had been established about 160 years before Jesus’ birth.
Hanukkah means “dedication” and is a celebration, among other miraculous parts of the story, of the cleansing of the temple after conquering Greek forces took over the temple, erected an alter to Zeus there, led sacrifices of pigs, and banned Judaism.
During Hanukkah one of the readings would have been from Ezekiel 34, I’ll read the first ten or so verses to better set the stage for the imagery that would have been fresh in Jesus and the Jews around him heads’
[READ EZEKIEL 34:1-11,30-31]
Let’s go back to John keeping all the background we now have, plus Ezekiel in our minds.
[READ JOHN 10:11-13]
This is a little more clear, now, isn’t it?
Jesus is not happy with how his people have been shepherded by the religious establishment of Jerusalem.
Jesus might even be implying that to outwardly worship God in the temple while neglecting to feed God’s sheep outside its walls is equivalent to desecrating the temple.
Jesus might be implying that it’s time for a new Hanukkah, a new rededication.
Jesus is the “good shepherd”. Now, the Greek here is more than our word “good.” Here it is not only a “good” shepherd, but an “ideal” and “noble” shepherd. Jesus is the model.
To complicate things further, a shepherd isn’t just a shepherd. In Hebrew poetry and scripture (Psalms, for example) shepherd is a near universal symbol of the king. You know, like David, the shepherd boy made king through whose line Jesus is attached.
[READ PSALM 23]
Now this thread of shepherds and kingship winds its way through David, the Psalms, failing Hebrew kings, exile, Ezekiel, Greek invasion, temple desecration, Hanukkah, and finally reaches its destination in Jesus.
This is the beauty of Holy Scripture.
This is God working through his narrative with his people to work out our salvation.
Jesus is the very ideal of kingship, the very truth of a shepherd.
“I know my own and my own know me, as the Father knows me and I know the Father”
I can’t help but notice the language here of ownership and naming God the Father.
Maybe it’s because my son was baptized two Sundays ago, but I’m moved back to Mark 1:9-11.
[READ MARK 1:9-11]
My son.
It is as if here, in baptism, we become adopted children of God.
We are Jesus’ because we know him as the true shepherd.
Jesus’ knows the Father and he knows us.
“I know my own and my own know me, as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep.”
In baptism, we are adopted as children of God and enter Jesus’ death.
No longer enemies, strangers, or foreigners, we are now God’s adopted children through water, blood, and Spirit. The baptized are part of God’s flock.
This is the great Easter message.
On this fourth Sunday of Easter, remember your baptism.
Jesus knows us. We are his forever.
Remember you are God’s child.
We are still wet from our baptism.
We are soaked, because the Good Shepherd is continually washing us clean with his blood.
He knows us, and yet he still loves us.
He knows us and never forgets us.
When we are scared, when we are alone, the Good Shepherd is there beside us to remind us that we are adopted children of God.
God did not forsake his son in the tomb and he will not forsake us either.
Hear again the words of Scripture: “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. […] I know my own and my own know me, as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep.”
“And they shall know that I, the Lord their God, am with them, and that they, […] are my people.”
As it appropriate for Easter, we end with the resurrected Jesus amongst his disciples: [READ JOHN 21:15-17]
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Amen.
Nailed to a cross, bleeding, hurting, mocked, physically suffering for hours, Jesus breaks his silence.
“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
On the cross, dying for the treason of being a Messiah when he was truly so much more. Jesus, in his greatest moment of terror continues to identify with humanity; with us; with you; with me; yes, even with them.
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