My Sheep Hear My Voice

I grew up in New York City in the ‘50s. We lived in a two–family house in Brooklyn. I recall it as a carefree time of life. It was a time during which doors marked certain boundaries, but we were not so afraid of others inappropriately crossing them. It was not always necessary to lock our doors. And when we finally did, my father kept a key in the milk box on the porch or left one with our upstairs neighbor. Our ability to come and go was safe. However, in later years when both my parents worked I as the oldest of my siblings, was entrusted with that key. In time concerns for safety appeared to be heightened and more attention was paid to locking doors and security. I know I was older and more aware of the news of the day but times were changing and I guess we were a little less carefree as the world was not as safe as it was before.

While gates and doors provide protection and security, they are the means for entering and leaving a  place. In today’s Gospel (John 10:27-30)  Our frame of reference for a shepherd does not likely fit with the image of the shepherd in the time of Jesus.  Is there any more powerful artistic depiction of Jesus the Good Shepherd in our Christian heritage?  For me it is the famous painting of Jesus with the lamb draped over his shoulder that was hung on the wall in one of my grade school classrooms, and was one of the stained glass windows in the church.  Yet, when Jesus lived and John writes his Gospel, shepherds were among the most disreputable and mistrusted outcasts of society. We might consider replacing the image of the loving guardian strolling peacefully in the sunshine among his flock, with the marauding motorcycle gangs of our century or cowboy outlaws of the 19th century. Shepherds were drifters with no fixed address and as a result of their unwholesome occupation, they were perpetually unclean and, in violation of Jewish law. These outcasts are the very people John’s gospel is talking about. 

Needless to say John shocks his audience by comparing Jesus to a shepherd and then later calling this very shepherd “good.”  He challenges his listeners to look past their assumptions of where God is located and who God belongs to and who can belong to God.  We and the people of John’s time are asked to see God in those who are outsiders, who exist on the fringe of the community, who are despised and even a little feared.  The readers of John’s story are told to look for God among the despised.

When Jesus proclaims that “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me” he characterizes his role as a loving protector. We are told that there was no actual gate in sheep-folds and that the shepherd would stand, sit or lie down in the opening which allowed entry and exit. In this way the shepherd could serve as protector of his sheep.  He knew his sheep and they knew him. John purposely contrasted Jesus, the Good Shepherd, with disreputable religious rulers of his time who exploited their congregations.esus clearly spells out his role as the Good Shepherd and his Father’s steward when he says I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one

It's Not Business as Usual

 

In the aftermath of the resurrection and the subsequent events in the upper room, the disciples decided to return to their "former" lives as fishermen. I guess it's not strange, after all they're all experienced fishermen and life does go on. But to me it seems that given all that's transpired, they return as if the passion, death and resurrection of Jesus were a mere interruption in their routine. Yes I know, it’s likely being fishermen was the only thing they knew and their livelihood depended on it and yes, it may be their way of processing the life-changing events that they experienced… yet, it almost suggests, a laissez faire "back to business as usual” mentality. Or are they still questioning what they actually experienced?

Psychologists tell us that people who experience traumatic stressful events may undergo a process of regression that sends them back to firmly entrenched attitudes and behaviors that represent "comfort zones" and safe havens. In many ways it either works to help process or repress traumatic events of their lives. Jesus seemed perfectly willing to start over with these men who had abandoned him, and to confirm once again that they had been chosen, not in spite of their life experiences, but because of them.

Needless to say,  John (John 21:1-19) had his reasons for telling this story:

 A "stranger" appears on the shore and inquires as to how they’re doing, and asks if their night of fishing been successful. They respond that it wasn't, and they're frustrated. The stranger asks them to try again and this time "try tossing their nets over the right side of the boat." Reluctantly, they ventured back out and were hugely successful as their nets overflowed. (We are told that they caught 153 fish.) Could it be that their old ingrained habits and practices were just not working? 

John tells this story to help us understand that the incarnation of God in Jesus and his time on earth, and his crucifixion death and resurrection, were life-changing transformative events, and not a time to fall back on old ways of living. Jesus is asking us to reach out and “put our nets back in the sea” even when we are tired and have been unsuccessful. It's not business as usual!

In his dialogue with Peter, Jesus "reviews" what his time on earth was all about and reminds him that the essence of his teaching is love and compassion for one another, not just in words but in actions. With Peter as our surrogate, we too are asked to let go of old habits of fear and leave our “comfort zones” and create new life  transforming habits. In so doing, we will "put on the mind of Christ" and live our faith, not as an auxiliary "appendage" but as the palpable essence of who we are and how we are defined. 

My Lord and My God

In many ways we are just like Thomas; aren’t we? We really don’t want to come by our faith second hand (John 20:19-31). Our parents taught us that something worth having was something worth working for. So we ask; is there really such a thing as “blind faith?” Blind faith does not encourage us to probe; it denies us the opportunity to question, to know what we believe intuitively, in our “core.” Blind faith requires minimal spiritual investment, and permits those inclined to cruise through their spiritual journey without the opportunity to really living life’s joy and danger. True faith requires knowing what we believe…beyond any doubt. So Thomas in refusing to say that he understood what he did not understand, or believe what he did not believe, exhibited an honesty that prompted his need to know. 

David Steindl-Rast wrote in Deeper than Words, "nothing is more significant in Jesus' parables than his appeal to "Common Sense." What a pity that the term has been abused to mean no more than sweet reasonableness or, worse, public opinion. Rightly understood, it means the deep awareness that we all have in Common and from which anything sensible must flow. We could even say that Common Sense is God's Holy Spirit in the human heart. And here Jesus differs from the prophets. They appealed to the authority of God standing behind them: 'Thus speaks the Lord God...' Jesus, in contrast, appeals to the authority of God in the hearts of the hearers." When we say the Word becomes flesh in us don't we mean that the "word" becomes an intuitive sense of who we are and what we believe?

Thomas wasn’t the faithless doubter. The so-called faithful disciples remained locked up in the upper room hiding in fear. Fear not doubt gets in the way of our letting the Holy Spirit take charge. Where did Thomas go while others were in hiding? What prompted him to return to his community? Was Thomas “working” at trying to know what he was asked to believe? Thomas wanted the experience of a deeper vision or sight. He was unwilling to blindly accept; it had to be real for him.

True faith is based on trust in God. True faith knows we can deepen our faith by asking critical questions of our traditions and our “inherited” belief propositions. We do this by leaving our comfort zones and living in new ways. Thomas’ encounter with the risen Lord challenges us to know what we believe; so for us as, with Thomas, we too can personally acclaim “My Lord and my God.”

Why Easter matters

 

I suppose it’s only natural to think of Easter as a miracle; after all Christ’s rising from the dead is clearly within God’s realm. But calling Easter a miracle excuses us from having anything further to do with it, since a miracle is God’s doing. We believe that God’s incarnation in Jesus and Jesus’ death and resurrection were for our salvation and benefit, not God’s, thereby making Easter more a sacrament than a miracle. A sacrament, requires our participation for its existence.  God performs miracles but men celebrate sacraments.  God may work a miracle apart from men. However, man is essential to the presence of a sacrament. (John 20:1-9)

If Easter is to be a sacramental event, we must represent it for our brethren with our own flesh and blood.  Easter is sacramental every time one of us makes his life a source of comfort and hope for another.  Easter is sacramental when our words heal, when our hearts understand, when lesser values die in us for the sake of greater realities.

We are sacramental with Easter when men know us to be faithful.  We are sacramental with Easter when our fellow men see us suffer not for selfish advantage but for their redemption.  Easter is never more sacramental than when one man gives his life on behalf of another. Christians seek to make Easter sacramental in their lives by their memory of Jesus through their words and deeds.

John Calvin wrote that becoming Son of man with us, made us sons of God with him; that by his descent to earth, he has prepared an ascent to heaven for us; that by taking on out mortality, he has conferred his immortality upon us; that accepting our weakness, he has strengthened us by his power; that receiving our poverty unto himself, he has transferred our wealth to us; that taking the weight of our iniquity upon himself (which oppressed us), he has clothed us with his righteousness. (Kruger, The Shack Revisited, p. 197)

 Jesus became incarnate to not only teach us how to live our lives but to reside in Him through Jesus and lift us up into a life of communion, of participation in the very triune life of God. When we say “in him through him and with him” as we celebrate the Eucharist, we are reminded of our participation in his birth, death and resurrection.

(Adapted from Dawn without Darkness, Anthony Padovano, p78)

The Power of Love vs. The Love of Power

 

Every year the Roman army would come marching into Palestine during Passover. It was Pilate in the time of Jesus, who riding a white stallion, led the parade as a symbol of Rome’s dominance and oppression. It was a reminder to “nobodies” not to cause trouble during the Passover. So what does Jesus do? In a seemingly mocking parody, he rides a donkey (Luke 19:28-40), a lowly beast of burden in the opposite direction and enters through the gate from which Pilate exited. While Pilate needed a whole legion to demonstrate his importance and control, Jesus’ “power” was rooted in relationships and the everlasting love of God and in God’s desires for the good of the world and all its creatures. It was the power of love vs. the love of power on parade.

The gospel writers tell us that this event was not accidental. Jesus planned it ahead of time. He knew what he was doing and he knew he was risking the wrath of Rome by provoking the authorities. And eventually they caught up with him.

God did not plan Jesus’ death. God did not desire it. God did not need it for God’s salvation of the world and all its creatures to work out. So then, why the cross?

The Cross was used by the Romans to not only destroy the identity of the one who was crucified, but to erase his mission and send a warning to any of his followers. Ironically reviled as an image, the cross became and endured as a central symbol for our faith…a symbol of a nobody who is resurrected. No one would expect a nobody to be resurrected.

Contrary to some beliefs, Jesus was not ransomed for us, but rather, he takes our place, not for our sins, but for the trials of our human journey. Jesus resurrection fulfills the promise of our resurrection as our souls shed our mortal vessels and we are raised from death with Christ.

“It is amazing how a caterpillar spins about itself a hiding place from which it emerges and takes flight as a butterfly with delicate, iridescent wings. Similarly, Christ lived as a human being who freely entered into the hiding place of death to emerge, deathless, filled with light and life, utterly transformed. Our faith proclaims that in following Christ we experience the same thing: “Therefore if any person is in Christ, they are a new creature; the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come (2 Corinthians 5:17).” (Richard Rohr, Dying Before You Die,’ Rohr Meditations, CAC, 4-3-19)

We know and have known people like Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks, who at the very least put themselves at risk for the sake of others. This exchange is God standing with us as we face our reality and its dangers. God is in the midst of our human experience. Could we not think about the Russian invasion of the Ukraine in the same light? Did Pilate expect the crowd's reaction to the masses as they welcomed Jesus entering the opposite gate on a lowly colt? Did Putin underestimate the power of Love of the people for each other and their homeland besting the love of power? Could Putin  even understand it?

The cross reminds us that our world is still a “risky” place, and that much will be asked of us. Yet it reminds us that death has no power over us because we live in the light of the resurrection of a nobody who was raised up as will we. The cross reminds us to stand up for those who need to be rescued and to stand with those who work for the common good even when it seems to be hopeless or dangerous. We can live in a time of trouble with joy.

Jesus challenged the love of power and lived for the power of love. Jesus was offering a different vision of how things could be, Palm Sunday asks us: which vision of power will rule our lives? To which kingdom will we belong? Which parade will we join? (Adapted from Parades and Crosses, Holy Textures, George Hermanson) 

"He cannot be the Messiah, can he?"

 

The character to whom we are introduced in this week's text is a Samaritan woman (John 4:5-42), a religious and political outsider, despised by the Judeans in Jesus’ time. The split between Samaritan Israelites and Judean-led Israelites still exists to this day. Samaritans had descended from tribes primarily residing in what is today Iraq and were not considered Jews in the pure sense by Judeans of Israel. 

The Samaritan woman meets Jesus alone at the well at noon. As if their encounter was not strange enough, the Samaritan moves outside of her social and religious tradition and engages Jesus in an in-depth conversation during which she quickly reminds him as to how his being a Jew and she a Samaritan, separates them. Yet, while at Jacob's well she also reminds him that they are connected though their common ancestor, Jacob.  

Somewhat out of character, Jesus tells the woman who he is as he reveals his “name,” I am he. How is it that this woman who meets Jesus briefly, dares to “wonder out loud” if he is the Messiah, while his apostles, still not quite convinced, continue to safely address him as teacher, “rabbi?” 

This story underscores Jesus’ love for what society characterizes as outsiders. The Samaritan woman at the well immediately recognizes the societal barriers and boundaries that keeps woman and especially a Samaritan woman in her place; yet she is willing to challenge Jesus' authority over the ancestors of their faith and while she is not certain that Jesus is the Christ she does not let that stop her from dropping everything, leaving her water jar behind and returning to her community and summoning them to meet Jesus "...and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?" They left the city and were on their way to him.”

The woman at the well shows us that faith is about an ongoing dialogue, growth and change. It is not about having all the answers. If  we are content with our faith just the way it is and are comfortable with our tried and true convictions, we may be missing an  opportunity for growth and transformation, and as such, lack the confidence to be able to ask others to "come and see" as the Samaritan woman did.

Another issue, perhaps for another discussion and another time, has to do with organized religions’ pronouncements on women and sexuality. At no time does Jesus condemn or judge her as society and organized religions have. Where did these rules come from? Shouldn’t we finally rise above phony moralism and misplaced misogyny that has characterized so much of Judeo-Christian theology? This is really a story about the transforming power of love and not about a story about a woman who like us, is no less human. After all, Jesus received the Cup from this “scandalous” woman, and she shares it with us in her joy at being loved. 

The Love That Surpasses All Understanding

 

The Prodigal Son, is among the most recognized parables in the New Testament, ( Luke 15:1-3,11b-32). While there are several important themes for us to consider in the reading, perhaps the most prevalent focuses on the father and the so-called “faithful son.” Paradoxically, the prodigal son is a secondary character in the story with regard to Jesus’ purpose in its telling.

The father characterized in the story represents an individual whose unconditional love seems to exceed the “normal” bounds of human ability and understanding. It’s hard to imagine a typical father or human being for that matter, who is capable of acting with such selfless compassion.

On the other hand, the reaction and behavior of the elder brother, who remains behind and steadfastly adheres to his father’s will in performing his day to day chores, seems all too human in his reaction to the father’s behavior. He finds that he cannot or is unwilling to rejoice in the return of his wayward brother.

 In this story Jesus reveals that the love of God surpasses all understanding and exists in a dimension beyond anything known to man. That love is evidenced in the scene in which the father rushes out to greet the Prodigal without and does not inquire into the son's derelict behavior or his intention to repent. The father merely rejoices in his return and in his honor, orders a feast celebrating his homecoming.

But the elder son, who professes to be more worthy of the father’s love is angry and resentful. After all wasn’t he the more faithful and dutiful son who quietly without fanfare went about his father’s business day in and day out?

So, to whom do we relate…the father; the elder son, or the Prodigal? What do you think the reaction of the community to the father’s behavior would be?

"Almost all religions and cultures  believe that sin and evil are to be punished and that retribution is to be demanded of the sinner in this world—and usually the next world, too. Such retributive justice is a dualistic system of reward and punishment, good guys and bad guys, and makes perfect sense to the ego…Mere counting and ledger-keeping is not the way of the God. Our best self wants to restore relationships, and not just blame or punish. The trouble is that we have defined God as ‘punisher in chief’ instead of Healer, Forgiver, and Reconciler and so the retribution model was legitimized down through the ages…On the other hand, the aim of restorative justice is to return the person to a useful position in the community. Thus, there can be healing on both sides. Such justice is a mystery that only makes sense to the soul…and yet the term restorative justice has only entered our vocabulary recently. How can we deny that there is an evolution of consciousness, even consciousness of where the Gospel is leading us?” (Richard Rohr, Restorative Justice, Center for Action and Contemplation. 6/12/18)