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This weekend hundreds of Episcopalians assembled for the annual convention of our diocese. Clergy and lay leaders representing nearly 120 Maryland churches, from Baltimore west to the end of our state – we came together, to pray, to learn, to elect, to resolve and to dream. In some ways it was, like so many other conventions I’ve attended, a great reunion of a family of faith. One of the ways it felt like family getting back together again was the fact that Bishop Rabb, our suffragan or assisting bishop, was there. At last year’s convention we heard from John Rabb through a recording he made from his hospital room. He couldn’t be with us then, because of major surgery, followed by some complications. After nearly a month of intensive care, Bishop John was finally able to come home and continue his healing journey. This weekend, a year later, he was among us, speaking with strength and conviction. The Bishop told us how grateful he was for the prayers and care we offered for him during his long recovery. Our response was a standing ovation. Sometimes, a pastor needs a pastor. Or, in the imagery of our Psalm and Gospel texts today, sometimes, a shepherd needs a shepherd. Years ago, a woman named Lynn came to see me. A great leader in that grand old church, she was a member of the vestry and head of the parish’s Habitat for Humanity team. Lynn wanted to speak with me about Ed, the rector, with whom I had been working for just a few months. A seasoned priest in his fifties, Ed was very, very ill. While he and his wife and five children came to grips with his diagnosis while Ed struggled to stay alive, he soon became the parish’s second rector in a row to become totally and permanently disabled. Lynn was struggling herself, not sure if she could speak her truth, her response to this heart-breaking news. “Do I have to…pastor to my pastor…again?” The woman’s tear-filled question rang in my ears. I was the associate rector, fresh from seminary, with no experience whatsoever in matters like these. But somehow, I was given words, an answer to her question. Somehow, I said, “ Yes. Yes, you do. Yes, we do.” Lynn said she knew that “yes” was the right answer. It’s just that she was so tired, she said, and she needed some encouragement. It was at that time, I think, that I began truly to learn how to be a shepherd. It was in that season of my ministry that I began to learn, from Ed and from Lynn, something important about both – about being shepherds and about being sheep. At last summer’s Lambeth Conference, the every-ten-year gathering of Bishops from all over the Anglican Communion, Bishop Rabb said that “we need to guard against false choices. It is a false choice to speak of having to choose between following…Matthew 25, that serving the least of these is serving Christ himself, and Matthew 28, that we go out into the world proclaiming the gospel....” The Good News of God in Jesus Christ, Bishop Rabb said, “is never a multiple choice (question)! (We are) both to serve and to evangelize!” (from his convention address to the Diocese of Maryland, May 1, 2009). The issues we face in our Christian lives are so often about both-and dilemmas to be embraced, not either-or problems to be solved. For example, how shall we as a parish celebrate both contemporary and traditional forms of worship? How shall we honor both those who have been members of this church since birth and those who have come here today, for the first or second time? How shall we both speak of and listen for what the great Jewish teacher Abraham Joshua Heschel called the truth that lies somewhere between us? Jesus knew all about both-and. He knew that loving both God and neighbor was not a false choice. One of the ways Jesus taught about a both-and life was with imagery. Images like the “I am” statements of Jesus in the gospel of John: I am the bread of life, I am the vine, I am the way. And “I am the Good Shepherd,” Jesus said to his disciples. Jesus says, “I am the Good Shepherd” today, also, to those of us who seek to follow him. Yet I want to suggest that the fully-human Jesus was also, just like us, one of God’s beloved sheep. Jesus, a good and faithful Jew, knew the 23 rd Psalm. Without doubt he prayed it faithfully. It must have been on his lips and heart countless times, long before anyone heard him say he was a shepherd, let alone “the Good Shepherd.” He trusted the Lord, the God of Israel, as his shepherd and leader and guide. “The Father knows me,” he says, “and I know the Father” (John 10:15). Jesus is “our good shepherd,” says Michael Lodahl, “because he has enjoyed the good shepherding of the Shepherd of Israel (Psalm 80:1)” (Feasting on the Word, p. 436). In other words, Jesus was both shepherd and sheep. There is no false choice here. He grew up into his shepherd-hood, his leadership of the flock. In time, Jesus became the Good Shepherd. Yet I believe Jesus never forgot what it meant to be a sheep – to be God’s servant, to listen to and to be led by God, even when it meant doing something radical, something life-changing, even life-ending, something he would never have dreamed or chosen to do. For Jesus, being God’s sheep meant that, in addition to green pastures beside still waters, there were also gardens like the one at Gethsemane. In addition to the assurance of the 23 rd Psalm, there was the challenge in the 22 nd: “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” In addition to goodness and mercy all the days of Jesus’ life, there was his laying down of that life. In the end, he did choose what he would not otherwise have chosen. For Jesus, it is both death and life, both crucifixion and resurrection, both sheep and shepherd. This means that for us, for those who follow Jesus, it is also a both/and life. We, too, are both sheep and shepherds. What does that actually mean? We 21 st century folks don’t know nearly so much about sheep and shepherds as the people of Jesus’ day. Even though western Maryland is known for its farms and pastures, most of us don’t have any real day-to-day contact with swine, cows and sheep. We are far removed from the teeming, bleating sheep-folds of Jesus’ day. That’s why we need to take a fresh look at what seems to be the mild- mannered metaphor of sheep and shepherd, the domesticated image of the Son of God in shepherd’s clothing. First, what does it mean to be sheep? Literally, it means being affectionate, stubborn, aimless, passive, easily startled and always hungry. It does NOT mean being stupid. It seems that cattle ranchers started that rumor, because sheep do not behave like cows. Cows are herded from the rear. But sheep prefer to be led. They will follow only the shepherd they truly trust. It’s as if sheep consider their shepherds part of their family. Shepherds and sheep speak the same family language. “I know my own and my own know me,” as Jesus puts it. And then, what does it mean to be shepherd? It’s about both leading and following. Yes, here’s the other paradox, another dilemma, the twist on that both-and-ness of sheep and shepherd. Being sheep means being led. AND being a spiritual shepherd also means being led, sometimes even by fellow sheep. Spiritual shepherds like Jesus, disciples of Jesus like Bishop Rabb – all of us who shepherd others must not forget what it means to be a spiritual sheep. To be a sheep and a shepherd, to be a disciple of Jesus, led by our Good Shepherd – this is the both-and-ness of Christian life, planted deep within us at our baptisms. When we are called to be a shepherd – like Jesus…like our bishops…like so many people in this part of the world…like all our church’s leaders, ordained or lay – like them, we must never forget what it means to be sheep. We must always remember that, no matter what we do, no matter who we are, we have basic human and spiritual needs that only the Good Shepherd can provide – to be pastored to, to be cared for, to be heard, to be loved. There are sheep and shepherds all around us. Sheep-Shepherds like our Eucharistic Visitors, those licensed and trained here at All Saints’ to bring communion to the sick and homebound. Sheep-Shepherds like the chairs of our committees and the leaders of our teams of ministry, in areas like hospitality and fellowship, outreach and formation and stewardship. These followers of Jesus, these sheep are also shepherds. I probably don’t need to tell you that these lay leaders are often unafraid to use their shepherd’s crook and bring wayward sheep, including me, back into the sheep-fold. (10:30 only: Choir directors are Sheep-Shepherds, too. They gather up their choir-flock, leading them and all of us in psalms and hymns. Yet musical shepherds never forget that they, too, are musical sheep, listening for the Good Shepherd’s song, seeking the harmony of Jesus.) Chuck Robertson, the canon or priest who assists the Episcopal Church’s Presiding Bishop, was our keynoter at this weekend’s convention. He told a story yesterday about a musical Sheep-Shepherd. It seems that, one day, in a parish he served as rector, he overheard a conversation between his new, young associate and the parish’s long-time musician. That young priest was sharing a bit of his struggle. He said he had been carrying a heavy load lately, both pastorally and personally. He was pretty despondent, and he said, “I’m not sure I even believe anymore.” The choir director reached out, put his hand on the priest’s shoulder and said, “That’s OK. We’ll just believe together for awhile.” Who are the sheep? We are. Who are the shepherds? We are. And who is our lead shepherd in the sheep-faith, our Good Shepherd? Who shows us how to live the both-and life of death and resurrection? Who speaks our language? Who shows us how to be a family of both sheep and shepherds? Let us pray. O God, whose son Jesus is the Good Shepherd of your people: Grant that when we hear his voice, we may know him who calls us each by name, and follow where he leads; who, with you and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. AMEN. The Rev. Thomas A. Momberg |
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