4 Easter A May 11, 2014
Luther Memorial Church Seattle, WA
The Rev. Julie G. Hutson
Acts 2: 42-47 + Psalm 23 + 1 Peter 2:19-25 + John 10: 1-10
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
How many of you remember the TV series “Cheers?” It was about a group of folks who gathered together in a Boston bar…there was Sam the bartender, Diane the ditzy waitress, Carla, who was Diane’s nemesis, Cliff the know it all mail carrier… and Norm…who whenever he walked into the bar was greeted with NORM!
He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.
There is something wonderful about being called by name….it means that we are known. For example, there’s a difference in talking about your grandchildren in a general way and in looking at them and calling them by name….just ask Paul and Karen who can now call baby Joey, along with Lily, by name.
He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.
This Sunday in the Church year, the fourth Sunday of Easter, is the Sunday often called “Good Shepherd Sunday.” We read the 23rd Psalm, and in 1st Peter we are reminded that we are like sheep who have gone astray, but have returned to the shepherd.
But in the Gospel reading Jesus mixes his metaphors a bit as he tries to explain his role. And maybe we struggle to figure out who we are too. Because being equated with wandering sheep isn’t that flattering of an image, though it’s likely true.
What we are reminded of though, is the value of being known by name. It’s easy to keep our distance from any situation if we don’t know the names of the people involved or those affected. That’s why it’s so powerful when, in times of mass tragedy, the names of the lost or those affected are made known. It’s why the Vietnam Memorial is so striking…all of those names. It’s why, on September 11th of every year, when the names of those lost in the 9/11 attacks are read, we remember that being known by name, and not forgotten, matters. It was true in the Oso mudslide…when the names were released. It was true for the families of those on the Korean ferry that capsized as they waited to see the names of their children appear on the list of those who had been rescued.
This week the names of the girls kidnapped in Nigeria were released. It is one thing to shake our heads when we hear of “hundreds of missing girls.” It is something else entirely when we know their names. One of them was named “Blessing.” That makes me tremble.
He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.
For mothers, knowing your children’s names is, of course, important, but we are given the grace to confuse them or run them together from time to time. I’ve been known to call my children by the wrong name, even by the dog’s name.
I belong to an Facebook group of ELCA clergy…in many cases we only know one another by name, we’ve never met in person. We often talk theology, worship practices, church history, and we share stories. This week, one of those colleagues, named A.J. shared a story, that I share with his permission. A. J. posted this:
… I sat today in the room of another dying patient, we’ll call her Anne. Anne is dying of metastatic liver cancer that is now in her brain. Anne is at the moment of living between both worlds – she has moments of clear lucidity and moments when she is talking to people that others – her family – cannot see, people who are long dead. I have seen this before, many times, and as both a nurse and a pastor, I think I’m wise enough to simply allow mystery to be mystery. Lots of folks want to blame this on the huge amounts of morphine we give to the dying for pain, but Anne is not on any. She has no pain. Just ativan, 0.5mg, for terminal agitation. Anyway, Anne was away for a while this morning. She was engaged in wonderful conversation with old friends, and, apparently new ones. I was looking at her feet, feeling for her pedal pulses, when Anne, bright eyed, said ‘AJ. The most beautiful red-haired lady came up to me like she’d known me for years, and she hugged me and said, AJ. I tried to understand her, but her accent was very thick. She kept hugging me, and telling me she was Johnny. Anyway, she pointed at you and said ‘tell him I love him and am very proud.’ Anne then grabbed my arm, she squeezed, and said, ‘Someone loves you very much.’ My mother, a beautiful, flaming red-head, died in 1985, when I was 15 years old. She spoke New York English with a German accent. Her name was Joannie. Anne knew none of this. She doesn’t even know my last name.
He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.
Here’s the thing about sheep. They don’t survive for very long on their own. They need to be a part of the fold. And they need the shepherd to tend and care and watch over them. To get to green pastures and still waters, they must often go through dark valleys and before their enemies. The shepherd cannot change this. The shepherd cannot make those hard places go away, or detour around them. But the shepherd does go with them, all the while reassuring them and calling their names.
So, of course the word we have here…the Gospel word, is that Jesus is that Good Shepherd and that he knows us each by name. But we cannot stop there. We must ask ourselves….we sheep….who are we to know by name? How are we to live together as God’s sheep? How are we to be the community of faith, living in this community, together?
Because the good shepherd does not round us up and gather us together and say “ok, here we are…this is great.”
He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.
If we can take a cue from the early church, from our first reading from Acts today, we find them living in faithfulness together. Devoted to the teachings of the apostles, to being together in fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. And they cared for one another and had the goodwill of all the people in mind.
The Good Shepherd is calling us, by name, to care for and know one another, by name. We cannot look around us at the sheep who are hurting, who are without homes, who are hungry, and pretend that they don’t exist. Oh, but it’s easy if we don’t their names. It gets tougher when we do.
It’s pretty easy to give food to the food pantry, but tougher when Michelle, soaking wet and cold on Thursday, asks for food before she goes to work…to her job. But she sleeps outside. She can’t afford a place to live. And she is here, in our neighborhood, in our midst, actually at our doorstep, and her name…..is Michelle, beloved child of God.
Or maybe you know Barry. He lives on our property, too. In his van, in our parking lot. He doesn’t say much, but we take him leftovers when we have them from meals and sack lunches. His dogs bark loudly but they don’t mean any harm. Barry…that’s his name, is disabled and can’t work. But he lets me know if he sees anything out of the ordinary in the parking lot. Barry, beloved child of God.
Barry and Michelle are God’s sheep. They belong to Jesus, the good shepherd. And they are a part of this community. We cannot look away. We can’t pretend we don’t know their names.
The need is great and we are the wayward sheep of God’s pasture. But we have been given much. How do we share what we have been given? How do we use what God has gifted to us to steward, not for our sake, but for the sake of the sheep that God knows and calls by name?
Maybe Cheers was onto something: Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name and they’re always glad you came. You want to be where you can see, troubles are all the same, you want to be where everybody knows your name.
The shepherd is calling us, by name, and leading us out…the question is,will we follow?