4 Easter
Introduction. Vision of pastor and pastoral community
“I am the good shepherd,” says Jesus. Ah! How that warms my heart! Jesus’ vision of the good shepherd, the one who loves us, the one who cares for us, the one who searches for us when we are lost.
And later, when Jesus sends forth his church, he sends us as a pastoral community. We are to care for the wounded and the lost and the wandering.
We human beings long for the good shepherd, long for the caring community.
As a parish priest I have seen this longing in person after person. Wounded souls come to the church looking for care, looking for someone who will understand, someone who will take care of them, looking for a flock they may be part of, and in which they will find solace, security, direction.
We are called — you and I — to be a loving flock, a group of loving shepherds. We are called to care for the wounded, for each other, for the world.
1. Flaws and failures
And of course, we fall far short. Among my most painful memories are the times when I failed to help or when I even harmed. I remember also hearing, all too often, of lost sheep for whom no one searched, lost sheep whose absence no one even noticed.
I think of those we have lost here at Trinity. I lost several good friends who were mad at the rector. They just left, and I still miss them. Others left us because of the church’s change of position concerning gays and lesbians. The choir was splintered a few years back when our choirmaster was asked to leave. Many were upset by the departure of Carol Wageman.
I think we’re in pretty good shape as a parish, but we have gone through many hurtful ups and downs. And that’s the way it is in the church. The flock, the shepherds fall far short of being the good shepherd or the good flock.
It was so even for Jesus. His disciples showed all the flaws and failures we see in the church today. They quarreled. They fought among themselves for first place. They failed Jesus in his hour of need.
And it was so for Paul and the early evangelists. Paul and Barnabas quarreled about Mark. Barnabas wanted to take Mark along on their second or third trip, but Paul said no, because Mark had failed them earlier. The disagreement was so great that Barnabas and Paul split up. Barnabas went on a separate trip with Mark, and Paul found himself another companion, Silas, for his trip.
And church history is no better; it’s worse if anything. Look at how splintered we are! Look at our treatment of the Jews! Look at the scandals among our clergy!
It is no wonder that many people have just given up on us. We talk big. Our ideals are wonderful. But our performance leaves much to be desired.
2. Why stay (or leave)?
So why am I still here? I have asked myself that question many times over the years.
How can I still adhere to such a flawed church? And the answer is always the same — because I believe in the vision, and I am committed to the vision. I know that we fall far short. And I repent of that. I sorrow because of that. But I believe in our call, and I see around me other flawed souls who also believe in our call and are committed to it.
When would I leave a community? — I would leave when their vision, when their picture of life and what they see themselves called to, contradicts the gospel vision. I cannot, for example, belong to a community whose vision is success. Our vision is to serve, not to be king of the hill. Neither can I belong to a community that has given up, a community without Holy Spirit. I belong to a community empowered and led the by the Holy Spirit of God.
3. What did Jesus do?
What did Jesus do? He belonged to a religious community — the people of Israel— whose vision he deeply criticized. We see him time after time in conflict with the religious authorities. But he did not leave. He stayed within the community, rejected false vision within that community, and held up authentic vision. He was committed to a vision and he sought to commit others to that vision.
He gathered a community around himself. He ministered to and taught a very large following of disciples. He called twelve very flawed men to be apostles. And he was disappointed in them. At the garden of Gethsemane he asked for their help and did not get it. “Could you not watch with me for one hour?” he lamented. He was hurt by them. But he did not break up with them. He did not leave them.
Their failings led instead to his commitment. They failed him; he gave himself to the cross. And he calls us to both his vision and his method. We are to hold up to the world the vision of a loving community and we are to pay the price. When we are hurt by our companions, when members of the pastoral community fail us and wound us, we are to accept that cross. We are called not to avoid pain. We are called not to reject suffering. We are to embrace it for the sake of others.
There’s a collect in the Prayer Book for Fridays in Morning Prayer that reads as follows: Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace.
We are called, you and I, to walk the way of the cross.
Conclusion. Our clash with the world
I am more and more struck, as time goes on, perhaps because I am approaching my final years, by how much Jesus’ vision is at odds with the world. He wasn’t just at odds with the world of his day; he’s at odds with our world too. We are to be servant, says Jesus, not master. Donald Trump proclaims the gospel of success — we can all become king of the hill — only wimps fail. Jesus leads us on the way of the cross. But the world admires the strong, decisive man of violence — and now, these days, the woman of violence too.
When I say these things I am conscious that I too am infected by the world. I am glad to live in a comfortable home. I am glad to have good food. I am glad to have computers and phones and e-books. I am glad not to be in conflict with the world I live in. I am not rushing out into the nearby woods to find and feed the homeless.
But I’m uncomfortable about my middle-class life, my middle-class privileges. That’s good. I think that if we are not uncomfortable at being well-off, we are not hearing the gospel.
So stick with it. The church is a community of very flawed people, people who fail a lot, but people called to a vision, and, to an important degree, committed to that vision.