“Clear out the old yeast, so that you may become a fresh batch of dough inasmuch as you are unleavened.” (1 Corinthians 5:7, NAB)
“Clear out the old yeast, so that you may become a fresh batch of dough inasmuch as you are unleavened.” (1 Corinthians 5:7, NAB)
“Deep waters cannot quench love,
nor floods sweep it away.
Were one to offer all he owns to purchase love,
he would be roundly mocked.” (Song of Songs 8:7, NAB)
“We know that Christ, raised from the dead, dies no more; death no longer has power over him.” (Romans 10:9, NAB)
“God raised Jesus from the dead, and for many days thereafter Jesus appeared to those who had come up with him from Galilee to Jerusalem.” (Acts 13:30–31a, NAB)
“The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart.” (Romans 10:8b, LH)
This is the sermon I prepared for Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., for the Fourth Sunday of Easter, April 25, 2010.
+ + +
Acts 9:36–43
Psalm 23
Revelation 7:9–17
John 10:22–30
+ + +
Stir up in us, O Father, the gift of your Holy Spirit, so that we may see your Son, risen and reigning as Lord of all. Amen.
+ + +
Have you ever woken up from a dream
and you can’t remember exactly what happened.
You ask, “Who was that? Where was I? What did that mean?”
It’s as if the shapes of things kept changing
and the appearances of people were fluid.
Things were familiar, and yet strange,
known, and yet mysterious.
It’s a hard experience to describe.
But at the root is the feeling that lingers when we slowly awaken—
the sensation of images full of meaning,
fading away just beyond our fingertips,
slipping away past our understanding.
Sometimes the Bible is a little dreamy in this way—
especially in some of its books.
Two of them appear in our readings today:
the Revelation of John and the Gospel According to John.
The early church fathers were divided in their judgment
about whether the same John wrote both books.
And two thousand years of scholarship hasn’t settled the issue.
But even if the identities of these Johns are a question to us,
the author or authors share a vision, a kind of a dream of truth,
that involves shepherds and lambs and sheep,
Jesus Christ crucified and enthroned,
the Church saved and gathered.
In his vision of heaven and its blessings,
John the Seer tells us of an uncountable multitude
gathered in worship and praise before the Lamb.
Those in the throng are “robed in white”
and “have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”
And this Lamb, our Lord Jesus Christ,
sits “at the center of the throne [and is] their shepherd.” (Revelation 7:9–17, NRSV)
Jesus is the Lamb and he is the shepherd.
So in way that makes the Church triumphant the flock of sheep.
And that means that you and I,
who have been washed and named in the waters of Holy Baptism,
hope and trust one day
to wear those heavenly robes washed white in the blood of the Lamb
and to flock around his throne.
Our worship here and now is practice for that blessed day.
That’s why we call this a congregation.
That word comes from the Latin for flock, gregis,
and it means, “those who flock together.”
And then in the Gospel,
Jesus tangles with his fellow Jews
who wonder whether he really is the Messiah—
God’s anointed one who will save the people.
But sadly they question him in a spirit of confrontation
and in the vain hope that he will be the Messiah as they define it,
not as he reveals it to them.
And so, Jesus speaks a word of judgment:
“… you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep.” (John 10:26, NRSV)
Belonging—both for the Jews and for us—
does not come from holding Jesus in our grasp,
from binding him to an idea that we dream up
about how he ought to be the Messiah and Savior of us all
according to our plans and designs.
Instead, belonging comes from listening to him.
He says, “My sheep hear my voice.
I know them, and they follow me.” (John 10:27, NRSV)
And here the language of the dream shifts a little bit.
Jesus was the Lamb in Revelation,
but now in John he is the shepherd.
All along, we are his sheep, his flock.
In the vision of heaven, we are shouting and singing praises.
But here in the Gospel we are quiet and attentive.
And instead of gathering around him,
we follow behind him as he leads us.
The wonderful and amazing thing about dreams and symbols
that compare Jesus and his people
with lambs and sheep and shepherds and flocks
is that these shifting, flowing images can all be true at the same time,
even if they are different from one another.
Despite those differences,
God shares a few basic truths across these visions.
We can hold on to them.
Jesus Christ, our Messiah, is the Leader of his people.
Sometimes he may appear to us as the Lamb on the throne
encircled by the throng of tribes and peoples.
And sometimes he comes to us as the Shepherd
leading his flock to green pastures and still waters.
But no matter what, as Psalm 100 tells us,
we “know that the LORD is God.
It is he that made us, and we are his;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.” (Psalm 100:3, NRSV)
We can trust him,
we can follow him,
because he leads us along the right path,
even when we have strayed into the dark valleys.
He calls us by name
and gathers us around him.
And in his goodness,
he prepares a table for us
and gives us his body and blood for forgiveness and peace and unity.
He anoints our heads with oil for healing and wholeness and strength.
Listen, the Shepherd is calling to us.
Come, let us flock together around his table, his throne. Amen.
“He commissioned us to preach to the people and testify that he is the one appointed by God as judge of the living and the dead.” (Acts 10:42, NAB)
“For if we live, we live for the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord; so then, whether we live or die we are the Lord’s.” (Romans 14:8, NAB)
This article is the May 2010 installment of my monthly message in the parish newsletter for Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb.
Somewhere in the dusty recesses of our memories rests the time when we first learned the saying, “April showers bring May flowers.” This year our April has featured more sunshine than showers, but the May flowers are here anyway, thanks to the snows of November, December, January …, well, you get the idea.
It helps to turn aside from the rush of our days, the blur of our schedules, and come to a rest, a stop. Put your life into park for a little while, turn off the engine, hide the keys, go outside and close the door behind you. Spend some time watching the tender young tree leaves quiver in the breeze, listen to the whushing of the wings of waterfowl as they fly overhead, close your eyes and turn your face to the heavens and feel the warmth of the sun shining upon your face.
These are the sensations of the season, this time of year poised between the ice of winter and the fire of summer. As the Philosopher reminds us, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven ….” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, NRSV)
Aside from the calming of our hearts, the soothing of our souls, the relaxing of our bodies that come when we pause and revel in the beauty of this season, we can use these sensations to remind us of the graces of the God who has made us and all of the creatures in this world.
Just as May falls between winter and summer, we live our lives between two times as well. We have been born into this world, born into sin. But in a way, our lives here and now are another time in the womb. When we reach full term, we will be born into the kingdom of God. There is nothing more “in between the times” than that, making our whole existence, from birth to death, a kind of May. Our lives are bursting into bud from the nourishment of the cross and the empty tomb. But still we have not yet emerged full-grown into the life eternal that awaits us in heaven.
When we gather for worship and come to the time to hear God’s Word, it’s easy for us to glide by the Psalms. But just as we can gain a sense of God’s grace by admiring his handiwork in creation, we can recover gratitude for his blessings by listening to the psalms as prayers of God’s people and indeed, his whole creation.
Consider these few verses from the psalms appointed for our worship this month:
+ “Praise the LORD from the earth,
you sea monsters and all deeps,
fire and hail, snow and frost,
stormy wind fulfilling his command!”
(Psalm 148:7, May 2)
+ “The earth has yielded its increase;
God, our God, has blessed us.
May God continue to bless us;
let all the ends of the earth revere him.”
(Psalm 67:6–7, May 9)
+ “The LORD is king! Let the earth rejoice;
let the many coastlands be glad!”
(Psalm 97:1, May 16)
+ “O LORD, how manifold are your works!
In wisdom you have made them all;
the earth is full of your creatures.”
(Psalm 104:24, May 23)
+ “When I look at your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars
that you have established;
what are human beings
that you are mindful of them,
mortals that you care for them?
Yet you have made them
a little lower than God,
and crowned them with glory and honor.”
(Psalm 8:3–4, May 30)
Another saying—this one from St. Paul—reminds us, “Pray without ceasing.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17) Sometimes this word seems to tell us we ought to go through life with hands folded and heads bowed. But remember that the full sentence in Paul’s letter says, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (vv. 16– 18). This calls us to live with hearts tender and minds open to the graces of God. And when they touch us, we can say, “Thanks be to God!”
“For the love of God is this, that we keep his commandments.” (1 John 5:3, NAB)