4th Sunday after Easter (Year C) - May 12, 2019

4th Sunday of Easter
Year C
May 12, 2019
John 10:22-30

I grew up as one of the kids from “in town.” Our school district was this mix of kids from the suburban-like neighborhoods, kids from “in town,” and kids from “the country.” Much of the land within the boundaries of the school district was farmland. Major crops were (and are) corn and soy. They had various kinds of livestock. In Jr. High, I took vocal lessons. My vocal teacher lived in the far reaches of the district and married a farmer. They had horses, goats, and yes, even sheep. Farming was a big deal -  to the point that the local 4-H held a “drive your tractor to school day” every year.  The town I grew up in wasn’t very big; it was a one stoplight town. But I was very much “in town.” If I’m honest with you, while I had friends that knew the ins and outs of the business, I still don’t know much about farming - or herding cattle, goats, or sheep - at least beyond what I read in commentaries and other sources.

And yet, here I am, preaching as Jesus uses sheep imagery to talk about his followers on what’s commonly known as “Good Shepherd Sunday.” I know, even in my own study, because my knowledge of sheep is so insufficient, I tend to focus more on learning about the sheep - what sheep are like, how they think, how they behave. I tend to focus on digging into the role of shepherd. So the focus of my study is grounded on my own lack of knowledge rather than on the Gospel that Jesus proclaims in today. To be clear, it is well and good to better understand sheep and shepherds in order to better understand the metaphors that Jesus uses this morning. But I wonder if, in that process, I sometimes focus so much on that that I get distracted. And then, in focusing so much on sheep and shepherds (an image so common in the world in which Jesus lived), I end up missing some of the Gospel of today.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus is on a mission. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him may not perish but have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved - or made whole - through him.” Whenever we’re reading from the Gospel of John, we read it through that lens. There is acknowledgement of the reality that not all believe (so not all hear the sound of Jesus’ voice), but the end goal of God, according to this Gospel, is to bring all to Godself through the saving work of Jesus. Jesus is the one who can proclaim “the Father and I are one.” So they share the same mission, the same goal, the same view of the world and of God’s beloved creation. The world that God so loves cannot be saved - or made whole - through him unless all are brought to God through Jesus - and all means all.

Some of you know that earlier this week, I was invited to be a guest scholar with St. Mark in Yorktown at their Greek Retreat. I was honored to be invited, and I was thrilled to be able to spend some time feeding that part of me. During the retreat, we spent a lot of time talking about something so central to Lutheran theology - how we are made right with God. Are we saved by faith in Christ? Or are we saved by the faith of Christ? In other words, what is the role of faith and belief in our salvation? In each place Paul talks about this in his letters, without getting into detail, I’ll just say that the Greek isn’t clear; it can be translated either way. In Lutheran circles, we tend to focus on our individual faith in Christ. “Saved by grace through faith apart from works for the sake of Christ.” Faith is assumed to be our faith.

That sounds all well and good. But the reality is that we, as human beings, have far from “perfect” faith. We all have had struggles with doubt - your pastor included. We all fall short of what God intends for us - even in our relationship with and in our faith in God. And usually, this lack of faith is less about my “believing” or “not believing” in God or in Jesus, and more about putting my faith in other things a bit more. That belief that I can do it on my own, or that reliance on anything other than God (money is a prime example in our world - if we hang onto our money, if we have enough of it, I can solve my problems and experience the “good life”). If it is my faith that “saves” me, that scares me. When is my faith “good” enough or not “good enough” for my salvation? Faith, then, becomes a work; yet works, according to Luther, can never give me salvation. And soon I start to understand, on a different level, Luther’s own struggles with his worthiness before God. As Luther noted, we often fail at the very first commandment: you shall have no other gods before me. Our other gods - money, self-reliance, etc - all have voices that pull us away from the Good Shepherd that calls to us.

What if Scripture points not as much to my individual faith but to the faithfulness of Jesus? The faithfulness of Jesus to the mission to which he was called. His faithfulness to make whole the world that has been broken, to restore the relationship between God and humanity. If Jesus promises that, according to the Gospel of John, that as he is lifted on the cross, Jesus will draw all to himself, I trust that Jesus is faithful to that promise. If Jesus promises that he came not to condemn the world, but to save it, I trust that Jesus is faithful to that promise - and that Jesus’ will not quit until that mission is complete. It is Jesus’ faithfulness to his mission - even to the point of death on a cross - that saves. It is Jesus’ faithfulness that promises eternal life that cannot be snatched away. We proclaim that we have a God, in Jesus, that shows that God remains true to God’s promises - that God’s answer to God’s beloved creation will always be life. Jesus’ faithfulness is what makes Jesus the Good Shepherd. To borrow imagery from Luke, Jesus’ faithfulness to Jesus’ promises is what leads the shepherd to look for the one sheep that was lost - bringing it back into the fold with the 99 others. Jesus’ faithfulness is there - even when my faith isn’t. Thanks be to God for that.

My faith, then, is still important - just in a different way. It allows me to be assured of that promise. It gives me the knowledge - that despite my waverings - that Jesus gives Jesus’ sheep the gift of eternal life. And it allows me to live into that eternal life, not just in some future afterlife - but in this life, now. It allows me to hear Jesus’ voice and say “yes, that’s for me.” Our faith, our reliance on Jesus as the shepherd allows us to turn toward Jesus and to follow him. Our faith isn’t what gives us salvation - a restored relationship with God -, but our faith is what allows us to live as saved people - with the knowledge that we are redeemed and we are restored to God. It gives us assurance that no one - not even ourselves with our doubts and our failings - can take away that gift which has been given to each one of us. In other words, our faith turns us toward the one who gives us - and all people - the gift of life in relationship with God. This is indeed good news. Good news that doesn’t depend on me understanding a thing about sheep. It is good news that we can we can trust - not because we are faithful - but because we know that Jesus is faithful.

I almost wish that the lessons for last week and this week were switched. Last week, we heard the story of Jesus and Peter having breakfast at the charcoal fire. At breakfast, three times, Jesus asked Peter if he loved him. Peter responds, “yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” To which Jesus responds, “Feed my sheep.” In the light of the resurrection, we - the sheep that follow Jesus and hear the Good Shepherd’s voice - turn out to feed and to tend our neighbors - our fellow sheep in the pasture. We become sheep that feed sheep. In no understanding of sheep does that make any sense. At least as far as I know, sheep don’t typically feed their fellow sheep (and maybe I don’t give sheep enough credit there). But that’s the radical thing about the Gospel. It breaks us out of how this world as it is works. Tables are turned. We learn to expect the unexpected with the Gospel. Like with Peter, Jesus doesn’t require us to be anything we’re not - we’re called to follow as the imperfect disciples we are. And because of Jesus’ faithfulness, we are empowered to become sheep that feed sheep.

Amen