The Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year A May 15, 2011
The Guardian at the Gate The Reverend Dr. Howard J. Hess
I. Introduction: The Guardian at the gate. This morning we enter into a familiar story. This is Good Shepherd Sunday. In John’s Gospel, Jesus described himself as both the shepherd who protects his sheep and the gate through which the sheep as a flock enter into the safety of the fold. We know that we are the sheep, and the metaphor seems ever so clear. Yet, I wonder if this familiar set of images has lost part of its original power due to our cultural distance from the world in which Jesus lived. Israel is a rocky land, some of which cannot support cultivation. This rocky land is useful only for herding. The landscape Jesus walked upon was often harsh, not at all lush and green. Many people were poor, living on the margins and scrounging day after day to meet basic needs. When Jesus saw his people, he knew that many of them desperately needed care and protection.
And Jesus knew that, like sheep, his people would often wander into danger or experience a catastrophe brought on by the forces around them, such as the wolves that also lived on the rocky land. When Jesus described himself as a shepherd, he was taking on the identity of the guardian, the protector, the nurturer, and the one who would stand between danger and his sheep. When he describes himself as the gate to the fold, Jesus gave further definition to his self-description. The gate is the interface between where the sheep rest and the rest of the world. The shepherd watches through the night in two directions. If a predator tries to enter into the fold, he puts himself in harm’s way; if a sheep tries to leave the fold and wander off, becoming alone and vulnerable, the shepherd re-directs the sheep back into the safety of the fold. Jesus was telling his people that as the good shepherd, he protected them from the harm that might attempt to intrude into the fold; he also protected them from their own inclinations to wander and thus become unprotected and vulnerable. The Celts call places where we encounter Christ the “thin spaces.”
II. How easy it is for us to wander off. And how easy it is for us to be endangered by challenging events in our lives. Phillip Keller, who lived as a shepherd for eight years, has written a book entitled A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23.” According to Keller, sheep can become “cast down.” A “cast down” sheep is not a sheep that has become discouraged and depressed, but rather a sheep that has fallen and turned over on its back. The sheep is unable to get up by itself. When sheep lay on their back, gas begins to collect in their stomach. The gas hardens the stomach, cuts off the air passage, and can lead to suffocation. In addition, the sheep’s legs become numb in that position. Only the shepherd can restore them. The shepherd must make great effort to get the sheep back on its feet. The process used by the shepherd takes patience. The shepherd rolls the sheep on its side and massages the legs to stimulate circulation. Then he begins to talk in a reassuring tone to the sheep, “Everything’s going to be alright. You’re going to make it.” He gently lifts the sheep up, and, because it cannot stand on its own, he holds the animal while the sheep regains its equilibrium. When the shepherd is sure the sheep has recovered and can stand on its own, he begins his walk back to the fold, lovingly encouraging the sheep to follow him.
We can imagine the frightened sheep as it hears the familiar voice of the shepherd calling out, and the relief as the shepherd draws close. And imagine the compassion and commitment of the Good Shepherd – to search far and wide for that which is lost and may be at terrible risk. As I have lived my life, I have come to more fully comprehend how little control I, as one sheep, have in so many situations and how utterly reliant I am upon the Good Shepherd who seeks me out in surprising and profound ways, particularly when I need him most.
III. I’d like to share an example of encountering the Good Shepherd that occurred at the end of our sabbatical in Madagascar. Earlier this month Peg and I were able to spend some time with The Reverend Patsy McGregor who hosted us there. We shared this story with her because it took place after the period of time we had spent with Patsy and her husband, Bishop Todd. By way of background, Peg and I were to spend our final week in Madagascar at St. Paul’s Episcopal Seminary, located more than an hour from the capital Tana. The conditions of the very rough road to the seminary require four-wheel drive. As many of you are aware, at the end of our last week Peg became very, very ill. At first I was concerned, then I became truly afraid. I can say that Peg and I both felt like a “cast down” sheep, far from the fold, unable to right ourselves, vulnerable, and in danger. We were able to reach the seminary Director by phone. Five hours later we arrived at a small private hospital owned by a family of Malagasy Episcopal physicians. The hospital provided Peg with exceptionally responsive care. She stabilized and improved sufficiently to begin the long journey back to Knoxville.
On the final day, the hospital gave us our bill. Inclusive of all charges, the bill was $685.00. We knew we could delay payment and file a claim with our travel insurance. But we wanted to pay the bill in full to honor the hospital staff for their good care. However, no credit cards were accepted, and we had carefully avoided having a lot of Malagasy cash at the end of our time there. Roughly two miles from the hospital was a bank with a 24-hour ATM. I decided to walk there. The road from the hospital to the bank is dangerous, has no sidewalks or railings, and runs beside a deep gully. Before I left, Peg and I prayed. Peg’s prayer was “Please send Howard a guardian angel to protect him on this journey. Keep him safe, Lord.” I began my trek, struggling to keep my balance on the edge of the road as the cars and motorcycles whizzed by. Then I saw a small, old rusty taxi waiting ahead. It was just parked there. I leaned through the car window and asked for a ride. The driver smiled knowingly and opened the door with a coat hanger. After I sat down beside him in the front seat, I look up at his rear view mirror and saw a card hanging that read in English “St. Michael, The Guardian.” I looked at him and said, “I think you are the Guardian.” He shook his head yes. He drove me to the ATM, where I was able to withdraw all the cash I needed. He waited and watched, as it was a crowded place, and then took me back to the hospital. Where did this Guardian come from? I do not know. Can we always count on having such a dramatic experience? I do not think so. Can we always rely upon the Good Shepherd to seek us out and set us right side up as we are flailing around? Always ~ we can always rely on the Good Shepherd.
IV. Conclusion. I believe that Jesus Christ is trustworthy and close to us in a personal and compassionate way. The last sentence in today’s Gospel tells the tale. Jesus said, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” In The Message, this sentence is translated as “I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.” The image of the Good Shepherd is not intended to depict Jesus as a sentimental figure who used good word pictures in his teaching. No, the Good Shepherd is one who knows each one of us by name, fights for and protects us in ways we often do not even know, and yearns to be connected with us and to connect us with one another. The Good Shepherd comes to meet us at the gate wherever that gate may be. I’d like to share the following Celtic prayer, which is my prayer for you today:
God be with you
And grant you to stand in “thin places”
where
the Presence is deeply known
and Mercy abounds
and Wisdom flourishes.
Amen.
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