Sermon for the 30th of April, 2023 - Fourth Sunday of Easter

Psalm 23:
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff— they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Acts 2: 42-end
They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

John 10: 1-10
‘Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.’ Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them. So again Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it in abundance.

Meditation for the Fourth Sunday of Easter
After Easter. After every great and climactic event, the true significance of that event is revealed by what happens after. We are required to read this passage from Acts today, because this is the testimony of the early church of the radical effect of the Resurrection. It transformed each person; it changed every life. The ones who had witnessed the life and death and Resurrection of Jesus now lived in its aftermath. And what it meant for them was this: as they continued to follow the Apostles' teaching they lived together and broke bread together and shared all that they had with any in need. They gave thanks to God for it all, and they experienced awe at the wonders accomplished in their midst. The effect of this, inside them, was a glad and generous heart.
This was the kind of life that sustained them and sent them forward into the future; this was its nature. How could others not want to join this small number of the original witnesses? God added others to their number, as each day passed. This Christian fellowship came to be the greatest single force for good that the world has ever known. Here we are!

What we perceive of the world via Twitter and Tik-Tok and Snapchat (the names speak for themselves) is characterised, above all, by its short-lived status. A news item breathlessly appears, blows up, fades away. The personalities featured in each of these episodes are usually not substantial enough to merit more than passing notice. Who remembers what captured the public's attention three months ago, three weeks ago, three days ago? But the enduring nature of the Christian Gospel is that the reality of the Resurrection of Jesus continues to have the power to transform our lives at their deepest levels. We
continue to live in its aftermath, we continue to confront its power. Why is it that the figure of Jesus could not be forgotten?

We know nothing about the personal life of Jesus, so to speak, in a Snapchat kind of way. We do not know what he looked like: how tall he was, if he was handsome or not, had brown hair or black, how he styled his hair. Much less what kind of clothes he wore and how they looked on him. We know nothing of his personal habits, or how he decorated his room. We know nothing about his adolescent years and what his emotions were during that usually tempestuous period of coming-to-adulthood. We don't even know if he was a particularly good carpenter, presumably the occupation of the first thirty years of his life.

What we do know is that, once he was ready to come into public view, it was not about himself--it was not about drawing attention to himself as a leader who wanted followers. Jesus had only one object in view and only one message to proclaim to those who had ears to hear it: that the Kingdom of God was, in his very person, breaking into the world they knew. And what that meant for them was a change of heart. From self-absorption and anxiety about possessions to glad and generous hearts poured out in love for others.

This was not the message of the Roman world of that time, nor is it the message of our culture today. The possibility, the offering, of such a radical transformation could not be communicated in ordinary words. Jesus had to resort to puzzling words, ambiguous words, images, metaphor.

This passage of John's Gospel. Jesus says, I am the gate for the sheep. What? Jesus was a person---not a gate made of wooden crossbars and hinges that led into a field. He was not literally a gate. The text actually says: Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them. Those stumbling first disciples could not grasp what in the world he was talking about, but Jesus persisted in using metaphor to try to get across to them who, exactly, he was. It was the only way his words would take root, and last. The stumbling first disciples couldn't hear his words and then discard them. They had to keep turning them over and over in their minds, thinking about them, trying them out in their imaginations and their experience, not letting them go, living into them.

A metaphor is more powerful than a literal declaration. It may not fit, it may seem at odds, contradictory, even "wrong," but that is for the hearer to decide. You have to make a decision about it---about what you think it means. Jesus kept using metaphors. These are the seven great metaphors of John's Gospel:
I am the Bread of Life.
I am the Light of the World.
I am the gate for the sheep.
I am the Good Shepherd.
I am the Resurrection and the Life.
I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
I am the true Vine.

These figures of speech, these metaphors, go deeper than any flat statement Jesus could have delivered to those who wanted to know the truth. Life is about living in abundance: it is the point of all that Jesus was trying to say. I came that you might have life, and have it in abundance. We are those sheep who still listen for the shepherd's voice. We seek to discern this voice above the many other siren voices that call out to us: desire this! buy this! look at yourself--couldn't you look better? what do other people think of you? Jesus spoke strongly. He called any other voice a voice that would rob and destroy.
Like thieves who break into your heart. They will kill you--they will break apart your life.

But the voice that calls to our deepest depths is the true voice of love, the love that God intends for us---to shape our lives---out of the sheer abundance of goodness, the sheer overflowing goodness of God. How can we go forward in these troubled times? How can we be glad of heart and full of hope? By taking these beautiful, powerful metaphors of Jesus and turning them over in our hearts and minds, again and again. Bread, light, gate, good shepherd, vine, way, truth, life. Never let them go.

May God grant to us all the capacity to hear, and to respond in loving discipleship,
in the aftermath of Resurrection.
Amen