4 Easter
Good Shepherd Sunday
April 20, 2024
Psalm 23; John10.1-10
+ Since the last time I stood here and preached, I have traveledquite a few miles, flown on quite a few planes and talked to a wide variety ofpeople.
And I have seen some truly beautiful things.
Invariably, whenever I talked with someone, whether they be seatedbeside me on the plane or at a luau or just in regular conversation, when theyinvariably asked me what I do, I pause a bit.
Saying I’m an Episcopal priest elicits a variety of responses.
One of the responses I get is from people who have been hurt bythe Church or religion as a whole.
And there’s a lot of those people out there.
As I talk with hose people and share that I too have had an oftendifficult relationship with the Church, they are surprised.
They would not think that priests have bad relationships withreligion or the Church.
But we do.
And when they found me agreeing with them on many topics, ratherthan being defensive on them, they aresurprised.
They were surprised at some of the things I have to say, or how Isay it.
They were surprised that often what drove them away from religion isthe reason I stay and fight and speak out in some maybe foolheartedly attemptat saving what I love and cherish about the Church.
But, sadly, there is a price for making the stand, for speakingout, for refusing to conform, as you all know.
There is a big price for living out a faith that oftentimes therest of the Church does not quite agree with.
This past week I found this piece making the rounds on socialmedia.
It’s by Chuck Kratzer. And it spoke loudly to me.
It goes like this:
Whatthe hell did you expect me to do?
Youtold me to love my neighbors, to model the life of Jesus. To be kind andconsiderate, and to stand up for the bullied.
Youtold me to love people, consider others as more important than myself."Red and yellow, black and , they are precious in His sight." Wesang it together, pressing the volume pedal and leaning our hearts into thechorus.
Youtold me to love my enemies, to even do good to those who wish for bad things.You told me to never "hate" anyone and to always find ways toencourage people.
Youtold me it's better to give than receive, to be last instead of first. You toldme that money doesn't bring happiness and can even lead to evil, but takingcare of the needs of others brings great joy and life to the soul.
Youtold me that Jesus looks at what I do for the least-of-these as the true depthof my faith. You told me to focus on my own sin instead of trying to police itin others. You told me to be accepting and forgiving.
Ipaid attention.
Itook every lesson.
And Idid what you told me.
Butnow, you call me a libtard. A queer-lover.
Youcall me "woke." A backslider.
Youcall me a heretic. A child of the devil.
Youcall me a false prophet. A reprobate leading people to gates of hell.
Youcall me soft. A snowflake. A socialist.
Whatthe hell did you expect me to do?
Youpassed out the "WWJD" bracelets.
Itook it to heart.
Ithought you were serious, apparently not.
Wewere once friends. But now, the lines have been drawn. You hate nearly all thepeople I love. You stand against nearly all the things I stand for. I'm tryingto see a way forward, but it's hard when I survey all the hurt, harm, anddarkness that comes in the wake of your beliefs and presence.
Whatthe hell did you expect me to do?
Ibelieved it all the way.
I'mstill believing it all the way.
Whichleaves me wondering, what happened to you?
Today is, of course, Good Shepherd Sunday—the Sunday in which weencounter this wonderful reading about Jesus being the Good Shepherd.
And we love this Sunday because we love the image of the Good Shepherd.
But, as someone who in my life as a priest has been called by peoplein authority or by others—because of the stances I make, or the position I havetaken on matter as we heard from Chuck Kratzer---I have been called a “badshepherd.”
Or one person, the spouse of a clergy person at anothercongregation once called me: “the devil in priest’s garb.”
And for someone like me, despite my thick skin and my callousedview, those words still hurt
I think the key here is what we may definite as “good.”
Does “good” in this sense mean being perfectly orthodox and correcttheologically and scripturally?
Does good in this sense mean being polite and nice and sweet allthe time?
Or does “good” really mean striving for justice, for speaking outagainst injustice, for calling hypocrites to their faces and overturning tablesin the golden temples filled with misbegotten money and the blood ofslaughtered animals?
For me, I think all these images of the sweet, gentle Good Shepherdare misguided.
I think the real Good Shepherd doesn’t only just sweetly hug thesheep to their chest and glow celestially like a candle.
I think the real Good Shepherd fights and fights hard.
The real Good Shepherds shouts at those forces that threaten theirsheep.
I think the real Good Shepherd stomps the ground and wields thatstaff and defends their sheep at any price.
We, each of us, not just me, are called to be those kind of shepherdsin this world.
We too—all of us—are called to speak out, to shout, to stomp theground, when danger threatens.
We are not called to be complacent shepherds with no backbone.
We are called to actually “know” the people we are called toserve.
The God Jesus shows us is not some vague, distant God.
We don’t have a God who lets us fend for ourselves.
We instead have a God who leads us and guides us, a God who knowsus each by name, a God who despairs over the loss of even one of the flock.
We have a God who, in Psalm 23, that very familiar psalm we haveall hear so many times in our lives, is a God who knows us and loves us andcares for us.
We see this first in Jesus, who embodies God and who shows us howto be a Good Shepherd.
We, by being good shepherds, allow God to be the ultimate GoodShepherd.
We were commissioned to be good shepherds by our very baptisms.
On that day we were baptized, we were called to be a GoodShepherds to others.
Anyone can be a good shepherd.
But in being a real good shepherd, we run the risk of being seenas bad shepherds for what we say and do and believe.
We run the risk of being called heretics or disruptors or agitators.
Real bad shepherds sometimes appear and are touted as Good Shepherdsby those in authority.
Real bad shepherds actually undermine and, chip by chip, destroythe work of Christ in this world.
But, today, we don’t have to worry about those real bad shepherds.
We know that the actual bad shepherds, and those who allow them tobe bad shepherds, in the end, get their due.
The chickens always come home to roost.
Today, we celebrate the Good Shepherd—the Good Shepherd that isshowing us the way forward to being good shepherds in our own lives.
Because in celebrating the Good Shepherd, we celebrate goodness.
We celebrate being good and doing good and embodying goodness inour lives.
And we do so realizing that “good” sometimes is seen as “bad” byothers.
Good sometimes means we run the risk of being called “libtard,” or“queer-lover,” or woke.”
It sometimes means we are being called a “backslider,” or a “heretic,”or a “child of the devil.”
Being good sometimes means we are viewed as “False prophet,” or a “reprobate,”or “soft.”
It sometimes means we are called a “snowflake,” or a socialist,”or…a “devil in priest’s garb.”
If that’s what “good” means, than so be it.
Because, if Jesus the true Good Shepherd were living his earthlylife right here, right now in our own time, let me tell you, he most certainlywould be called every single one of those terms.
And if it’s good enough for him, it’s good enough for us.
So, on this day in which we celebrate the Good Shepherd, let us bewhat he is.
Let us live out our vocation to be good shepherds to those aroundus.
Let us truly “see” and know those people who share this life withus.
And let us know that being a good shepherd does make a differencein this world.
Let us make a difference.
Emboldened by our baptism, strengthened by a God who knows us andlove us, let us in turn know and love others as we are called to do.
Amen.
