The “good” shepherd
When
I was a child, my Uncle Russell managed The Union Theatre in Anawalt, West Virginia—the
little town where I grew up. So I got to see most every movie that came to
town. The Union Theatre got mostly cowboy movies. Lots of cowboy movies, it
seemed to me, were about the bad blood between cattle ranchers and sheep
ranchers.
In
those movies, the cattle ranchers were always noble, upstanding, law-abiding
citizens who lived in decent, well-kept ranch houses and did their best to “do
the right thing.” Sheep ranchers, on the other hand, were usually disreputable,
desperate, land-grabbing rogues whose only purpose seemed to be breaking the
law and annoying the cattle ranchers.
The
cattle ranchers always had pressed shirts and little string ties and shiny,
leather boots. The sheep ranchers were dirty and unshaven and were constantly
casting lascivious looks at the cattle ranchers beautiful girlfriends.
So,
in Sunday School, I had some problems identifying with Jesus as the Good
Shepherd. In the little colored pictures we got of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, he
looked more like a cattle rancher than a sheep rancher. His flowing white and
crimson robes were spotless and his hair and beard were neat and perfectly
groomed. The truth was, if it hadn’t been for the beard, Jesus would have
looked more like a cattle rancher’s beautiful girlfriend than anything else.
I
just didn’t get it….
***
Shepherds
are romanticized these days. That’s probably because most of us have never met
a shepherd. We tend to think of shepherds as humble, gentle, dedicated,
somewhat dreamy characters who rescue sheep and commune with nature. More often
than not, we think of shepherds as being musical folks—playing little flutes to
their sheep—wearing sandals and soft, hand made clothing.
The
truth is, shepherds in Jesus’ day were much more like sheep ranchers than
cattle ranchers. According to Alan Culpepper, a well-respected New Testament
scholar, “shepherding was a despised occupation at the time.” Though we have a rather romantic view of
shepherds, Culpepper goes on to say, “…in the first century, shepherds were
scorned as shiftless, dishonest people who grazed their flocks on other
people’s land.” Another scholar,
John Pilch, points out in his book The Cultural World of Jesus that
shepherds were considered “unclean” by observant Jews of the day because of
their violation of property rights and their neglect of their families by being
away from home for long periods of time.
On
the other hand, most people I know don’t think very highly of sheep. Sheep are
thought of as cowardly, dumb and stubborn all at once. Calling someone “sheepish”
usually means they are too timid and fearful to stand up for themselves. “Wool
gathering” is a waste of time. Comparing people to “sheep” implies they will
mindlessly follow the leader and not think for themselves. And sheep are so uninteresting
and boring counting them is almost guaranteed to put you to sleep.
However,
in first century Palestine,
sheep symbolized something remarkably different than they symbolize for us. The
highest virtue in the Mediterranean world of Jesus was honor. “Honor” was so
valued that it was vital to maintain it even to the point of death. An
honorable person in that culture would face death in silence, without
complaint. John Pilch, again, writes that “while being shorn or even prepared
for slaughter, the sheep remains silent and does not cry. This is how Isaiah
describes the ideal servant of the Lord: ‘like
a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers
is silent, the servant of Yahweh does not open his mouth.’’ “
Sheep
came to be the animals that most clearly symbolized “honor” in Jesus’ world. In
fact, it was the silent, suffering servant of Isaiah—the figure so like a
sheep—that came to be identified with Jesus in the early Church. Jesus is,
after all, “the lamb of God.”
***
The
4th Sunday of Easter every year is “Good Shepherd Sunday”. I’ve
pretty much run out of things to say about shepherds and sheep. And since I
don’t know any shepherds or sheep, I don’t get any new material year to year.
The cowboy movie image is new this year—but that was scraping the bottom of the
barrel, believe me. I should probably stop now, move on to the Nicene Creed and
cut my losses….
But
there is something in today’s gospel to wrestle with before we do that. Listen:
I have other sheep that do not belong to
this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there
will be one flock, one shepherd.
I don’t talk much about
“evangelism”. I don’t talk much about inviting those who “do not belong to this
fold” to join our community. And since I don’t have anything new to say about
sheep and shepherds, this is perhaps the time to talk about “evangelism.”
A
few years ago, there was a survey by the Gallop Poll people that revealed that
Episcopalians tend to invite someone to church every nine years.
That’s
a remarkable statistic. I’ll give you a moment to consider that and see how you
fit into the Gallop Poll.
I’m
a part of a group called The Mastery Foundation. I went to one of the Mastery
Foundation’s workshops for people who minister in 1987. Since then I’ve been
active with the Mastery Foundation. I now lead the workshop I attended 16 years
ago and I’m one of the 12 members of the Mastery Foundation’s Board of
Directors.
For
16 years I’ve heard about what the Mastery Foundation calls “enrollment”. And
until last week I didn’t “get” what enrollment
means. I thought it meant “asking people to take four days and pay nearly $500
to do the workshop.” And I’ve been hesitant for the most part to do that. I
hate to “ask people to do things.” I feel like I’m imposing, like they’ll think
I’m some kind of fanatic, like I’ll be implying something’s missing from their life.
But
just last week, at a workshop I was helping to lead in Maryland, one of the other leaders said
this: Enrollment is an invitation that enables someone to discover the full possibility and
vitality and commitment of their life.
All
that time—16 years—I’ve thought “enrollment” was about getting people to
“enroll” in the workshop. Instead, I now realize, “enrollment” means
“enrolling” people in the fullness of their own lives.
What
a difference that makes. And it only took me 16 years to understand it! That’s
seven more years than it takes the average Episcopalian to invite someone to
church!
John
Wesley—the Anglican priest whose followers formed the Methodist Church—used
to ask people: HOW DOES IT GO WITH YOUR SOUL?
Evangelism
isn’t about getting people to come to St.
John’s and become Episcopalians. Evangelism is about
“enrolling” people in the health of their soul and the fullness of their lives.
And we are not only “called” to do that—it is what God intends us to do.
At
the first meeting of each of the Discernment Groups we’ve been creating for
over a year now, we ask people four questions as their homework. The fourth
question is this: “how responsible are you willing to be for the experience and
well being of the others?”
That’s
the question I want to leave you with—for your home-work and your SOUL-work
this week. HOW RESPONSIBLE ARE YOU WILLING TO BE FOR THE FULLNESS OF THE LIVES
OF OTHERS? Are you willing to ask someone this week—in whatever way make sense to
you—“how goes it with your soul?” Are
you willing to be open and concerned and attentive to those who are not of this
fold? Whether you invite anyone to church or not, are you willing to invite
someone to a deeper relationship with you and with God? Are you willing to let
someone know that God loves them in a way that can make their lives more
abundant, more wondrous, more real?
I’ll
be asking myself all that this week. I’ll be wresting with that along with you.
I speak to you of God’s love for us. But do I speak to others, outside this
fold?
And
will I?