The Second Sunday after Easter, 2010

Text: St. John 10:11-16

The Rev. Jerry Kistler

St. Stephen’s Reformed Episcopal Church

Montrose, Colorado

“The Lamb Our Shepherd”

Today is traditionally known as “Good Shepherd Sunday,” for our Lord says in the Gospel, “I am the Good Shepherd, and I know my sheep, and they know me. And I lay down my life for the sheep.” That’s such a powerful metaphor, not only for who Jesus is to us, but for who we are to him—week, helpless, yet beloved lambs purchased with his own life. It’s an image that evokes in us remembrances of times when the words of the twenty-third psalm have been a special comfort to us: “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me besides still waters.”

The image of the Good Shepherd speaks to us of the care and nurture and protection we have in our savior Christ, and for that reason the image of the Good Shepherd has always had a special place in the Church. In the earliest expressions of Christian art, the paintings that adorn the walls of the catacombs, the burial places of the early Christians, one of the recurring themes is Jesus as the Good Shepherd. For here again the image evoked the words of the twenty-third psalm: “Yea, thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff comfort me.” This is why the image of the Good Shepherd has become one of resurrection hope, and why we read this Gospel in the season of Easter.

The sequence hymn we sang just a few minutes ago, “The King of Love My Shepherd Is,” is one that I know that speaks in a special way to a lot of us, but is one that has deep significance for me, because its one that has been sung at several family funerals, including the funeral of my father. It is of course based on the twenty-third psalm, and it recalls this ancient connection of the image of the Good Shepherd with our Easter hope.

“Perverse and foolish oft I strayed, But yet in love he sought me,

And on his shoulder gently laid, and home, rejoicing, brought me.

“And so through all the length of days Thy goodness faileth never;

Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise within thy house for ever.”

Jesus said, “I am the Good Shepherd, and I lay down my life for my sheep.”

What strikes me right off is the fact that Christ is making an analogy to Himself from something his hearers knew through their own experience. That’s the power of the metaphor – explaining the unfamiliar in terms of the familiar. He’s not saying, “There’s no other shepherd out there to compare me to,” but rather, “I’m like those good shepherds whose sheep are their own, who, unlike the mere hired hands who flee at the first sign of danger, put themselves in harms way to protect their beloved little lambs.” See that’s what baffles me: that there could be an analogy to Christ’s self-sacrificing love in mere sheep-tenders—no offense to Ken and Carol. I don’t think it was a commonplace that shepherds were willing to give their lives for their sheep. The owners of the sheep were rarely the ones out there doing the actual shepherding, and the hirelings who had no personal investment in the sheep were certainly not going to risk life and limb for what was so plentiful and expendable. And yet the analogy was out there.

Every one of Jesus’ hearers would have remembered the story of a very famous shepherd who put his life on the line for his sheep: the shepherd-boy turned king, the shepherd named David. David became one of the greatest warriors for Israel. But before that he fought some pretty ferocious battles for his father’s sheep. Remember how he answered King Saul when he said he was too scrawny to go out and fight Goliath. He said, basically, “Don’t worry about it. You see, I used to keep my father’s sheep, and on occasion when a lion or bear would come and steal one of the sheep, I’d go after it and strike it, and get the sheep back. And if the bear or the lion rose up to attack me, I’d grab it by the beard and strike it again, and kill it.”

Now to me, going up to a bear or a lion and grabbing it by the beard sounds more like stupidity than bravery. But David didn’t think twice about putting his life on the line for his sheep. And that’s what bothers me. I don’t understand it. But I don’t understand it precisely because I’ve never owned any sheep. I never birthed a little lamb from its mother, or weaned it, or fed it from my own hand. I’ve never experienced a little lamb responding to my voice alone, or bound it up when it was wounded, or found it when it was lost. What I’m saying is that I just don’t have that kind of love for sheep, a love that would move me to lay down my life for their sake, because I’ve never had any personal investment in sheep. And that’s really the difference between the good shepherd and a mere hireling. The good shepherd invests himself, his labor, his time, his riches, his life in his sheep. But the hireling sees the sheep only in terms of how they can invest him.

I think it is safe to say that we’ve all experienced both kinds of shepherds—the good shepherd who gives his life for his sheep, and the hireling who seeks merely to profit from the sheep. Jesus is the Shepherd and Bishop of our souls, the Chief Pastor and Chief Bishop. But he has committed his Church to the care and nurture of under-shepherds—under-pastor and under-bishops. But being under-pastors and under-bishops, they are no less responsible for being good pastors and good bishops. That’s why I think we in the Reformed Episcopal Church are so blessed, because we have bishops who see themselves first and fore mostly as pastors, and not as monarchs. The difference between a bishop who is a pastor and one who is monarch is the difference Christ sets out in the Gospel. It’s the difference between a good shepherd who is interested in the sheep because he has invested his life in them, and a hireling who is interested in the sheep only in so far as they might invest him. When trouble comes the only thing you’ll see of a hireling is elbows and heels. But a pastor, a good shepherd, gives his life for his sheep. It’s a tall order.

Father Kolbe was a pastor. Father Kolbe was Polish priest back during World War II. When the Nazis invaded Poland Father Kolbe was arrested, loaded into a cattle car, and sent off to Auschwitz. The sign on the top of the gate at Auschwitz read, “Work make free,” but as we know rarely did anyone actually leave. But on one occasion a prisoner actually managed to escape. When it was discovered the next day that the prisoner was gone, life instantly became even more unbearable for the others who remained. Father Kolbe and the other prisoners from the escaped man’s cell block were lined up and made to stand out in the hot summer sun for hours, until finally the commandant came and began to pick out ten men who would be executed in the place of the one who had escaped. The chosen means of execution was the starvation bunker—a small room in a basement of the barracks where the ten men would be locked in complete darkness without food or water until they died. One of the men who was chosen to die began to weep and cry out, “My poor wife! My poor children! What will they do?” Then suddenly a prisoner broke out from the line and addressed the commandant. It was Father Kolbe, and for some strange reason the commandant allowed him to speak. In a soft voice he said, “I would like to die in place of one of the men you condemned.” His request was granted. And so the elderly priest walked over to join the condemned and took the place of the man who had wept for his wife and children. That man went back to the lines in stunned amazement. Then Father Kolbe and the other nine men were locked in the death chamber, entombed alive. And no doubt because he was ministering to the needs of the others to the end, Father Kolbe was the last to die.

Now that’s a pastor, a good shepherd who gives his life for the sheep. But, you know, no matter how good a shepherd Father Kolbe was, no matter how good a shepherd David was, there is only one truly Good Shepherd, because there is only one Shepherd who truly owns the sheep, who purchased the sheep at the inestimable price of his own blood. You see, the really marvelous truth about Jesus Christ, the Lord our Shepherd, is that he fulfills the role of the Good Shepherd by becoming the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. The Lord becomes the Lamb, and as the Lamb he gives his life for his fellow sheep. But as the Lamb who was slain, He is yet in the midst of His flock leading us like a shepherd. There’s a beautiful picture of this in the book of Revelation, where we see the faithful in Christ gathered before the throne of God, and we hear one of the elders of heaven announce to John, “These are [those who have] washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb… [and] “the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne will shepherd them and lead them to living fountains of water.”

The Lamb is our Shepherd, we shall not want.

He leads us to the green pastures and still waters of His Word and sacraments.

He restores our souls with His very life.

He leads us in the paths of His own righteousness imputed to us, for His name’s sake.

Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

We will fear no condemnation,

For He is with us.

The rod of His satisfied justice and the staff of his mercy , they comfort us.

He prepares His Communion table before us, against all that troubles us.

He anoints our head with His Spirit.

Our chalice runneth over.

Surely grace and mercy shall follow us all the days of our life,

And we will dwell in the house of the Lord Christ forever. +