THE REV. E. WAYNE ROLLINS The Fourth Sunday of Easter is designated Good Shepherd Sunday. All three
years of the lectionary cycle contain Psalm 23, and the Gospel lesson is always a portion of the tenth chapter of John, where Jesus says “I am the good shepherd.” The day is rich in symbols, and we have enough hymn settings of the Psalm to overfill our bulletins. And, if you want, you can search our own windows for shepherd images and symbols. Just not now. Scripture contains the word shepherd almost from the beginning. It is the task of Joseph, Jacob’s youngest son, the one of technicolor dreamcoat fame. It’s also the role of another son, the first victim of sibling rivalry. Abel is a “keeper of herds,” which implies sheep and other animals. And, of course, there’s David, Jesse’s youngest son, a shepherd boy anointed to be king over Israel when the Saul project reminded Israel to be careful what they prayed for. The ritual sacrifices from the time of Abraham onward often used a lamb as the offering. The Passover sacrifice instructs the slaughter of a lamb, whether from the goats or the sheep. Lambs are known to be some of the most passive animals in domestic use, unless, as I’ve been told, that lamb grows up to be a ram, an animal that seems to take its name quite seriously. I’ve often wondered why a lamb, seemingly so innocent and docile, is the appointed animal for so many ritual sacrifices. Of course, cattle, oxen, and birds are offered, too, along with grain and incense. But when it comes to the most important sacrifice, that of Passover, it’s a lamb. No substitutes, only the instruction to share with a neighbor if that family cannot afford a lamb. After the death of David’s son, Solomon, and even with Solomon himself, sibling rivalry tended to overshadow the role of shepherd into one of individual power. Solomon was nearly kept from the throne by a jealous half-brother, and then his own sons’ rivalry resulted into dividing the kingdom into two parts—the north called Israel and the south, Judah. That division never healed, in a large part because rulers concentrated more on holding power than being shepherds of the people. As we know, that tendency continues to lead many into temptation. Shepherds are seen as expendable, their defenses weak. They wander from place to place as newer, fresher pasture is needed. They have only the shepherd’s staff, crooked at one end to help pull a wandering sheep back to the herd, and blunt on the other to push away an attacking wolf. Other than that, they are powerless, at least at first sight. Jesus says the sheep know their shepherd, and the shepherd knows the sheep. There is strength in numbers, especially when those numbers gather as one with their shepherd in the lead. And the good shepherd is the one who cares at least as much for the sheep as for his or her own status or power. I say at least, knowing that when Jesus claims the title as Good Shepherd, he is ready to sacrifice all for the benefit of the sheep in his charge. And, somehow, the sheep know and trust that to be true, even if they don’t yet realize that could be their own path. The image before us today is of the sacrificial Lamb of God, slain for the salvation and redemption of the world. He is the one appointed as the true, the Good Shepherd for God’s people, the one who holds power, wisdom, and might in part because he knows what it’s like to be the lamb. He is the one who enters our suffering by suffering himself, so that we might be joined to him not just in that, but in his life lived forever in the presence of God. So, the images before us today, of lamb, of shepherd, of victim and victor, are one in the same in that they are the very image of the one true God, the one in whom we profess our faith and place our trust. He is the one who invites us into his life, even in death, to be transformed, converted, if you will, into the transcendent immediate presence of this same Lamb who promised to be with us always. The Good Shepherd opens the door for sheep of all nations, of all types, to enter into the fold of eternal life. He promises to guide us into all truth by caring for us, even by becoming one of us in ways that invite us to care for others in the same way he cares for us. So, like the Lamb of God, we are invited to be both sheep and shepherds, sometimes all at once, sometimes only one at a time. It’s when we find we are only one of those that the risen Christ just might appear in the form of the one we are not, reminding us of who we are called to be by virtue of our baptism into his death and resurrection. The image of the innocent docile lamb has one more function. It is a way we often don’t see God, yet it is the image of God presented to us in the cross. The innocent, defenseless one goes willingly to the sacrifice, because that’s what it takes to do the work of salvation for all that is created by the same one in the power of creation. The Good Shepherd, the very image of our Creator, uses both weakness and power to give us life. As the image of both shepherd and sheep in our own time, we are called to do the same—not only for ourselves, which is idolatry, but for those who know only weakness and the oppression of those who seek only power. The Good Shepherd stands before us as the Lamb that was slain. The life of Christ’s church is known in how we translate that image into life-giving, life-nurturing truth for all who seek it.
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