"I am the door!"

      Today is one of those unofficial feast days in the Church.  Those who pay attention to the calendar know that we read about the Good Shepherd on the Fourth Sunday of Easter, causing many to assume this is the Feast of the Good Shepherd.  It is not; today is simply the Forth Sunday of Easter.  Those paying even closer attention will notice that today we do not read about Jesus calling Himself the Good Shepherd.  We read John over the course of the three-year lectionary cycle, roughly dividing the chapter into thirds.  This year we read the beginning of chapter 10 and miss the explicit claims of Jesus found later in the chapter.  That may disappoint some of you as I focus on what some might call a tangent of the Good Shepherd, but what I think John wants us to understand in light of Jesus’ claims, claims which are, of course, verified by God in His Resurrection of Jesus.

     To begin with, our reading today takes us back several weeks to the story of the man born blind.  Just to refresh your memories because a lot has happened in the world since then, Jesus healed a man blind since birth on the Sabbath in the Temple.  The healing takes places as a teaching moment for those who ask Jesus whether the man was punished or accursed for his own sins or the sins of his parents.  Jesus proclaimed that the man was blind to show forth His redemptive and healing power.

     In what should have been an amazing sight to behold, if you will pardon the pun, the leadership in Jerusalem chose instead to criticize and condemn Jesus’ actions and the testimonies of those who witnessed the miracle.  They try to claim to the masses that Jesus is a blasphemer and has no respect for what they have been taught.  Work is forbidden on the Sabbath.  Yet here is this guy, Jesus, healing on the Sabbath and doing it on the grounds of the Temple!  Good.  I see some recognition of the story.

     Here’s the harder background question.  John tells us that this teaching we are reading and associate with Good Shepherd Sunday occurs during the Feast of the Dedication.  Anybody remember what the Feast of the Dedication re-called?  It’s ok.  Just don’t forget it in three years when it comes up again.  Our Jewish brothers and sisters know the celebration as Hanukah. 

     I know most of us think it is simply an eight-day celebration where our Jewish friends give one another gifts, much like some describe Christmas about us.  The truth is far more significant.  Though we like to think of the Greeks as often wearing white hats in history, we know history is a bit more complicated.  When the Greeks conquered Judea, and the rest of the Mediterranean, they set about trying to stamp out all other cultures or, if you prefer, making everybody Greek.  In Israel’s case, that means they profaned the Temple, did their best to cause the Jews to forget Hebrew, and tried hard to get Israel to worship the gods and goddesses of Olympus rather than Yahweh.  They were rather thorough and successful.

     We know that beginning in the third century BC, so few Jews spoke their native language that the Rabbis gathered to translate the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek.  You and I call that resulting work the Septuagint.  We know that the Jews were forbidden to circumcise their males.  We know the Greeks even forced the Jews to eat pork, thereby proving their assimilation to the new culture and authority.  We also know that there were a number of attempted revolts against Greek rule, the most famous of which was the Maccabean revolt in the second century BC.  Led by Judas Maccabee, the Jews rose up against their Greek conquerors.  This ragtag band of freedom fighters defeated the super-power of the day, and its maybe as many as 60-70,000 soldiers, and evicted them from their homelands.  Once the Greeks were driven out, the Maccabeans worked to re-dedicate the Temple.  Most famously, there was only enough consecrated olive oil to keep the great Menorah burning for a day.  Yet God caused the Menorah to burn for eight days on the little oil, allowing the Jews to consecrate more oil over the next eight days.  That feast, and all the stories of oppression and God’s redemption, also serve as background to what we read today in Jesus’ instruction.  Many would have understood the rededication by the faithful as a type and shadow of what would be ushered in by Messiah.

     One last image present in our story this day in the Middle East was the claim by kings to be shepherds.  The kings claimed to be doing what was best for their people.  I know you don’t like the taxes, but I really do need the money to accomplish what is best for you.  I know you do not like the idea of warfare, but I really do need to put down our enemies before they harm us.  Think modern politicians who claim to be public servants while self-aggrandizing or self-enriching themselves at our expense.  They don’t really want to do it, but they need to accumulate power so that can make real change for us.  BTW – that’s the biggest /s we may here day in and day out.

     All of that background brings us to our lesson today.  Jesus begins by speaking of sheepfolds and how one enters.  In many villages, it was not uncommon for there to be a village sheepfold.  The sheepfold was an area where animals, in this case sheep, could be safely kept at night.  Often, such pens were manmade or took advantage of the natural features or topography.  Those studying Hosea with Larry heard a bit about a big one, Petra, which has a small opening but enormous area enclosed by cliffs.  Think of that on a much smaller scale.

     Each village sheepfold would have a narrow placed gated or barred with at least one man charged with guarding the pen.  In the morning, the shepherd would come to the communal pen and call his sheep.  Such was the relationship that the sheep knew the voice of their shepherd; the shepherd, of course, knew his sheep.  Though modern ranchers tell us we should never name our livestock, some do and did.  The shepherds would call or sing or do whatever was necessary to separate their sheep from the big herd of the village and head off to lush grazing or drinks from gentle moving water.  Jesus’ point would have been well understood by many in the audience.  The shepherd goes to the gate and tells the gatekeeper he wants to take the sheep.  It was done openly and in the light.  The gatekeeper knew the shepherd and that some of the sheep belonged to him.

     Notice, too, Jesus’ criticism of those who try to enter another way.  He calls them a thief and a bandit.  Thieves were those who tried to con someone out of something by stealth or subterfuge.  Think of somebody putting their arm around you as they reach into your robe to take your wallet.  It might be hours before you discover its loss.  Heck, you might even think it fell out rather than was stolen!  Bandits, of course, used forced.  Think of good old-fashioned hold up’s.  You know you are being robbed because it is happening at the point of a sword of the end of a fist or club.

     In light of the healing of the blind man, who are the thieves and the bandits and the one entering through the gate at the light of day?  Do you better understand why the authorities plotted to kill Jesus?

     As the shepherd goes ahead singing or calling or doing what he does, the sheep follow him.  Jesus goes on to remind his audience and us that the sheep will not follow a stranger.  All that makes sense, but John tells us that the audience did not understand the figure of speech Jesus used.  Most of the time, we think Jesus’ parables are challenging.  In this case, John uses the word, paroimia, which is only used four times in the New Testament, to describe the confusion on the part of His audience.  The audience is having a hard time applying the shepherding image, the metaphor,  to the spiritual teaching given by Jesus.  Only our younger members will truly understand this, but they are like Drax in Guardians of the Galaxy 1.  The metaphor goes over their heads.  See, told you.  Mature Adventers can ask the younger members to explain all that at coffee hour—lol.  Those listening to Jesus do not understand Jesus’ authority in spite of all that they have seen.  He has healed on the Sabbath next to the Temple.  In ANE cosmology, Yahweh would have been more powerful the closer one got to His Temple.  The idea that a blasphemer could do something opposed to Him at His seat of power and authority would have been crazy.  Gods HAD to defend their temples, else they ran the risk of losing their power and worshippers.

     For their part, the Pharisees and Sadducees and Scribes are acting the part of thieves and robbers.  They are working hard to convince the people that Jesus is evil, that Jesus is opposed to God, even though all remark that no one ever did anything like His signs, especially healing a man blind from birth . . .  on the Sabbath . . . at the Temple.  And as the healing story ends and our reading today begins, they scoff at Jesus’ attempts to teach them, proudly declaring that they see, and hearing Jesus’ pronouncement that their sin remains.

     Jesus continues the explanation for His audience and us.  His explanation, unsurprisingly, is offensive to the Jews, though we do not hear it today.  Jesus declares Himself to be the door, but He makes the claim in a unique way.  The Greek text, ego eimi thuros, contains the name given by God to Moses at the burning bush.  When Moses asks who he should say is sending him to Moses, God replies in Hebrew “I am that I am.”  The Rabbis who translated that into Greek make God the great I am, ego eimi.  It is an emphatic statement, I, I AM.  Every time Jesus makes a pronouncement “I, I am . . . “ faithful Greek speaking Jews cannot help but think of God.  That ego eimi is so tied to the burning bush that faithful Jews would be offended by Jesus’ claims, were they to reject the signs, and understand Him to be a blasphemer.  Of course, His sheep know His voice and see His signs.  They, like us, have their favorite miracle that convinces them that Jesus is who He claims to be, the Messiah.  And, lest we forget, John reminds us at the end of the Gospel that bears his name that these stories are shared so that we might know Jesus is the Messiah.

     In this particular part of the pericope, Jesus is instructing and promising that all who enter through Him, the Door, that they will be saved.  Better still, those who enter through Him will go in and out and find pasture.  We so often think of doors as dividers.  It’s what keeps one room separate from another, right?  Look at the doors we have to keep the outside . . . well, outside.  Though Jesus does speak of He and His angels separating the sheep and goats at the eschaton in other places, this is not that place.  This is about shepherding in the here and now.  Jesus is the Door through which His sheep enter the sheepfold for safety and security and fellowship and through which they exit to find pasture.  Jesus sums this all up with an amazing promise.  He came so that His sheep may have life, and have it abundantly.  It is a glorious, though subtle promise.  I wonder how many of us miss its implications because we are so wrapped up in the shepherd imagery or the claims of some loudmouth Christians who claim our sole focus, and God’s focus for that matter, is on the Day of Judgement and the Age that follows?  How many of us are like Drax?

     As we were comparing notes this week about potential sermon illustrations at colloquium—some of us do talk shop when we gather like that—we were reminded that there are some important, though subtle teachings in Jesus discussion of Himself as the Door.

     Perhaps most obvious to all is the idea that the way back into that intimate relationship with God we should all desire, to undo the damage of the separation caused by our sin in the Garden.  The entrance to the Garden is blocked by the angel with the flaming sword; Jesus, however, makes it possible for us to begin to re-enter that place, makes it possible for us to begin to experience hints and types and shadows of the intimacy experienced by Adam and Eve.  Make no mistake, we are still impacted by sin, so we will not experience the intimacy afforded Adam and Eve until we receive our new bodies in the new creation, but you get the idea.  Those efforting to enter the door will experience intimacy with God.

     Jesus’ image here is a subtle reminder of the authority that He has, and will have.  He approaches the gate, and the attendant opens the gate for Him.  There is no argument, no “produce your credentials” on the part of the guard.  The guard knows who Jesus is and knows Jesus’ sheep will follow Him.

     Notice, too, that it is a flock.  We Americans love our independence; no one is more individual than American Protestant.  But God calls us together.  It does not surprise us Episcopalians, that we are called together for our own benefit.  We worship together, we fellowship together, we mourn together, we celebrate together—we recognize that the koinonia of Scripture is important to our physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being.  Heck, who among us is surprised that experts are discovering that isolation is one of the great evils resulting from the pandemic?!

     Did you observe that Jesus is the protector?  We live in a day and age where Christians think it necessary to arm themselves to protect themselves, even at church.  As a professional pastor I am always amazed at the number of self-described Christians who feel it is the God-given obligation to carry a weapon to protect themselves.  In some ways, it is not their fault, as they are often poorly discipled.  But Jesus tells us elsewhere to pick up our crosses and follow Him.  Our baptismal rites remind us that we have died to self.  Easter reminds us that all who believe in Him will be given back their life by our Father in heaven.  What is it, then, that causes us to think this life is so important, that we must take up weapons so as to be able to shoot others?  And, just by way of reminder, if we are killed because of our faith, where do we go?  We go to be with the martyrs who sit closest to the throne and encourage God to start the party!

     Can wolves and thieves get in and harm the sheep?  Sure.  But can they do lasting harm?  No!  They can do no damage, including kill us, that He cannot undo.

     Another not so subtle but seemingly often-overlooked teaching in the pericope is how Jesus leads rather than commands His disciples.  As the disciples discuss elsewhere, the leaders in the world are far more wont to command.  Do this.  Do that.  Jesus instructs them and us that He came this time to serve.  He washes the feet of His disciples.  He feeds the hungry.  He heals the sick.  We pray each year reminding ourselves that He is not just our Savior, but the pattern for holy living.  If we desire to be holy, how should we be living?  By doing the things that He did when He was in the world as the Incarnate Son, by efforting to honor Him in our daily life and work.

     To be clear, how does the Good Shepherd lead His sheep?  He calls them by name.  How many of us, when we are suffering because of privation or disease or pain or isolation or any other evil, hear the whisper of the enemy just as Adam and Eve heard the voice in the Garden?  Does God really care about your suffering?  Do you really matter to Him?  If God loved you, He would take away your pain.  If God really loved you, He would give you what you want.  Don’t squirm too much; we all hear that temptation.  What an amazing reminder we get today that our Lord knows us by Name.  Oh, to be sure, we remind ourselves from time to time that He created us, that He breathed into us our nepes that makes each one of us us.  But Jesus reminds us today that He knows all who enter His sheepfold by name!

     Finally, Jesus ultimate promise in all this is that we will have abundant life.  The life we are promised is not just subsistence.  We are not promised we will just get by.  No, Jesus promises that by entering through Him we will have abundant life.  There is a temptation, of course, only to think of this in terms of the Second Coming, that we will not experience abundant life until after we are with Him on the other side of death.  But Jesus’ whole pattern of life is one of sacrifice.  His entire life is sacrificial.  What does He receive for His sacrifice?  That’s right.  Honor, authority, glory and all those other accolades.

     Remember, if you will, though, the nature of sacrifice in God’s kingdom.  What does it cost us?  Think back to our talks of Temple worship.  It should have been the greatest tailgate party ever, putting FL vs. GA or OSU vs MI to shame.  Were we living in OT times, you would come in with your animal.  I would show you how to kill it quickly and humanely, but you would do the work.  I would start the butchering of the animal and place the required offerings on the grill and then give the rest of the animal to the assistants for further butchering.  They would deduct what was supposed to be given to the Levites and then grill the rest.  Once finished, you’d be given your meat and head back out of the Temple, laden with grilled meat in a world that ate meat sparingly.  There, you would invite others to share in the joy that God had allowed you to atone for your sins.  Can you imagine the bounty?  The smell?  The opportunity that, no matter how poor you were, you might be afforded the opportunity to eat meat?

     We forget, of course, that that event was the type and shadow of our Eucharist.  I will not ask for hands, but how many of us were joyful to roll out of bed and come to church today?  But our gatherings are meant to reflect the worship at the Temple.  Both of them are meant to be a shadowy reflection of the worship that is occurring THE Temple, the one where God is now.  We offer to God a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, right?  We give to Him that bread and that wine from His creation, right?  What have we really sacrificed?  But what do we receive?  Some would say they are spiritually nourished by the Sacrament.  Others might say they are reminded of God’s promises to them in the midst of their mourning or suffering?  Others might have different answers, but none of that costs us.  God, through His Son, made that available to us, if we but choose to enter through Him, the door.  He paid the cost, the sacrifice, of our admission.  Part of our gathering and celebrating today is meant to remind us of that eternal truth, right?  We remember His death.  We proclaim His Resurrection.  We await His coming in glory.  Even when we don’t feel excited about coming, we remind ourselves of that truth.  Even in the midst of suffering and mourning, we remind ourselves of that truth.  And we give thanks!  Joyful thanks, if we understand Him properly, if we understand that it truly through Him that we enter into His care, His provision, and His salvation.

     I am going to guess, looking at some faces, that there is some disappointment this morning.  I know some of you came wanting to hear a shepherd sermon.  You wanted the warm fuzzies of a pastoral setting.  A couple of you asked me to re-preach “Away to Me.”  I get it.  But our readings today are a prelude to that instruction.  Today we remind ourselves that Jesus is the door through which we enter into intimate relationship with God.  Even so, we are reminded of some of those Good Shepherd lessons.  He loves us and calls us by name.  We are part of a flock, not disparate or even desperate individuals, that He is not a thief conning us nor a bandit forcing us, that He wants to give us abundant life, and, perhaps most importantly, that He loved each of us to make it possible.  And wrapped in that knowledge and in His instruction, we know the end is joy, even if, perhaps, today was a bit more challenging than we would like it to have been.  But because He is the door and He has opened for us, we can be certain and comforted by the remembrance, even in a reading that we might wish otherwise, of our Lord’s tender care and love for us.  As we live and move and have our being in a world that rejects Him and His authority, we know who He is.  He is the Father’s only begotten Son, come to love us, to draw us into His kingdom, and to restore the intimacy that we lost.  Though the world might conspire to keeps us deaf and led astray, He came and called each of us by name, that we might have abundant life through Him!  My friends, that is a reminder that needs re-telling more than once every three years.  It is a reminder that we should hear and every time we gather in His Name!

 

In His Peace,

Brian†