Fourth Sunday of Easter

Acts 9:36-43
Psalm 23
Revelation 7:9-17
John 10:22-30

          Today’s gospel lesson is the passage that follows the famous story of the good shepherd.  In that story Jesus describes himself metaphorically in the role of shepherd.  He is known by the gatekeeper of the sheepfold; he is known by the sheep who follow and never fear him.  And he calls each of the sheep by name because he knows each one of them.  They follow him in trust and without fear in a way they would not follow a stranger.  The metaphor of sheep and shepherd is a stretch for us latter day city dwellers and suburbanites.  But the image of the shepherd is still compelling.  It gives us comfort and confidence to remember that we are known by name and cared for individually.  It gives us comfort and confidence to know that there is one whose concern is for our welfare, one who will guide us to what we need and protect us from harm.

          The last few days have brought us one shock after another.  The week began with horrifying images from Boston.  The crowd gathered to celebrate local history and human athletic accomplishment falls victim to an act of cruelty and malevolence.  A bomb set to explode in a crowded place is the kind of situation we hear about and perhaps see pictures of almost daily, but those words and pictures come from other parts of the world.  That kind of chaos may be the new normal for others, but it is not so for us.   With the news that police were searching for those who planted the bomb, we heard also that a town in Texas had been destroyed and lives lost in a factory explosion.  The US Senate officially opposed the will of 90% of those it represents to require stricter background checks for the purchase of guns.  Closer to home, our neighboring state of Kansas took a step closer to arming school personnel, determined to fight fire with fire in the wake of the growing number of mass murders on school campuses.  And much farther away, we hear news of another powerful earthquake in rural China.  It was a chaotic and harrowing week, even for those of us who live hundreds or thousands of miles away from the worst events that occurred.

          The earthquake was a natural disaster.  We stand in fear and awe of the power of the natural world to destroy the order that human beings attempt to impose upon it, but we do not ordinarily ascribe intention, motive or failure to the pain and disorder of natural occurrences.    The cause of the explosion in Texas is unknown.  It occurred in a factory that produces a volatile chemical substance.  There are rules in place to reduce the risk, but they do not eliminate it entirely and human beings make mistakes, even in circumstances that are intended to assure their safety.  Investigation of the accident may eventually reveal that rules were contradicted or people made mistakes.  But at the moment it appears to have been a terrible accident.

          The other events that shocked us this week reflect something else – the human desire to dominate others.  Jesus lived in a culture of domination.  The Roman empire imposed on its conquered territories an economy and political culture that were built upon little more than the exercise of power.  In such a culture, human value is calculated upon your or my usefulness to a more powerful person.  The good news Jesus preached – the unconditional love of God for each person – contradicted that culture of domination. 

          Killing and injuring other human beings to achieve a purpose is an act of domination.  In the last few years we have witnessed increasingly horrifying examples of individual persons and small groups killing and wounding strangers in public places.  In some cases we know what motivates their actions.  It may be the desire for revenge or to further a political cause.   At other times they appear to be motivated by the symptoms of mental illness that remains mysterious and incomprehensible to anyone else.  The authorities feel confident that the man they have arrested for the bombing in Boston is actually the one who did it, along with an accomplice who was killed in an attempt to escape.  Many people have remarked that his capture will eventually lead to the explanation for his actions being made public and that somehow the knowledge of it will help to ease the pain.  But at this time, we don’t know what motivated him to act.

          Each new act of aggression and mass murder shocks us momentarily and brings about calls for action that will increase our safety.  The school shooting in Connecticut just before Christmas seemed to have tipped the balance.  Opinion was divided about how to proceed.  Among the options was to respond to attempted acts of domination with greater force: to out-dominate the would-be dominators, to build another layer into the culture of domination in which we now live, to answer force with greater and better organized force.

          As Christians, we understand Jesus’ resurrection as God’s rising above the human will to dominate.  Jesus’ death was brought about by what seemed to be a power greater than all others.  It dominated the economy and political order of the world he lived in.  It posed an ongoing challenge to his religious beliefs and those of the community with which he shared them.  When he died, his friends believed that he had fallen victim to a power greater than himself.   Time revealed that the power they feared, under whose domination they lived was no power at all.  That knowledge is what makes us a people of resurrection.

          The power whose domination we fear – whatever specific form it may take – has no power over God.  In recent decades, it has become very common for political and economic domination to wrap itself in religion, but that is a lie.  In our time we may use force to achieve safety and stability for the greatest number of people because we cannot find another way to do it.  We try to come to agreement about how such force is to be regulated because we see its potential dangers.   But in God’s kingdom, peace and justice will never be achieved by domination.  God calls us as Christians to look for glimpses of that kingdom and to work toward its realization every moment of the day.  That includes praying for our enemies and those who do us harm.

          Amid the fear and chaos of the past week the image of the shepherd who knows each one of us by name is a comforting one with which to begin the new week.  Jesus is a shelter and refuge for all of us.  But when we come to the table today to celebrate the sacrament of his body and blood, the words of the prayer with which we gather pose a challenge to us as well.  Those words are “forgive us for coming to this table for solace only and not for strength, for pardon only and not for renewal.”  As the shepherd who cares for the sheep, Jesus is not only our protector, but our role model.  As the community of his followers we act in his name for those around us.  We are to be the good shepherd and to call others by name, to guide them to shelter and care for their needs as we have been sheltered and cared for.

          Fear is the source of the desire for domination.  Love is its opposite.  Shepherds do not keep their charges confined within a pen.  They find safe places where food and water are available; they create safe environments for their rest and oversee their movement from one place to another.  They are watchful for danger.  But they allow their charges to act according to their own nature.    We question why God, who is perfect and complete, leaves us to deal with a world that is very much the opposite.  Our perfection and completion are still unfolding.  Human nature will look for ways to take advantage of that.  God never will.  In Jesus, we have an example of humanity as God sees us and knows each of us.  However imperfect our efforts it is him who we are called to follow.