Easter 4C | Psalm 23; John 10:1-10

St. James’ Episcopal Church, Edison, NJ

“The Lord is my shepherd.  I shall not want.”  These are perhaps the most familiar words in all of Scripture. They are as old as King David, and even though very few of us have ever worked with flocks of actual sheep, we seem to have no problem understanding this Psalm. “I am the good shepherd,” Jesus proclaims in this passage from John’s Gospel, calling to himself the role and the imagery of David’s meditation.

Today, the fourth Sunday of Easter, is traditionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday. All of the readings, and yes, most of the hymns we typically sing on this Sunday, follow this theme. It is one quite familiar and accessible. They are very much “comfortable words” for most of us, and it is the task of the preacher to sit down with these passages and ask, sometimes with exasperation, “Is there anything new I can say?” It may seem that everything that needs to be said has already been said.

And yet, our ears and our spirits hear these familiar, comfortable words differently from year to year. We are not the people we were just one year ago on this Sunday. Indeed none of us are the same people we were the last time I visited St. James. I believe it was Christmas Eve, 2019. Little could we have known how all our lives would change mere weeks into that new year. Who knew was Zoom was at that point or that we would spend a good deal of the next two years viewing family, friends, and even church in little boxes?

Yes, our lives have changed. We’ve experienced loss, uncertainty and anxiety. And it seems like it keeps coming with no let up. A passage like Psalm 23 may have been with us as a familiar companion all along the journey of our lives.

As children we probably saw in our imagination a loving Jesus in flowing robes, seated by a gently babbling brook, cradling a tiny lamb in his arms. There are certainly many pictures depicting such a scene.

At other times we may find ourselves walking through the valley of the shadow of death when we lost a loved one or got a scary medical diagnosis. Still other times we may have experienced the chastising work of the shepherd, what some might call the “business end” of God’s rod and staff, when we went through a difficult time of personal growth.

But I see another aspect to this familiar image, that of the shepherd who protects the sheep. In other passages, Jesus, whom Christians see as the “Good Shepherd”, warns of those who try to disrupt the lives of the sheep. Sheep are vulnerable. They need leading and herding but also protecting.

There are predators out there. The predators Jesus talks about might seem limited to his time and context, but I think we get a daily reminder these days of who the predators are in our day. What group will be targeted next? It’s usually the most vulnerable. They are easy targets. From the people of Ukraine to transgender children and their parents in our own country. Somebody has made them a target. From refugees and immigrants, to racism and reproductive rights, people’s lives have become, yet again, pawns in a political chess game. And again, it usually involves the most vulnerable.

I think the question for us at Church this Sunday morning is what is God calling us to do? Do we just sit back and say, “Ah, this is a job for the good shepherd,” and wait for Jesus to fix everything that’s wrong in the world, or do we do more? We start with prayer, of course, but what more can we do?

In one passage Jesus describes what the good shepherd does in clearer detail he does so by comparing a good shepherd with a bad shepherd. When predators come, bad shepherds abandon the sheep. They leave the flock vulnerable. But the good shepherd lays down their life for the sheep.

I’m grateful that we are stepping up – welcoming refugees from Afghanistan, sending aid to Ukrainian refugees, doing works of justice and mercy around the world and close at home. Some of us hear the call to stand up for trans kids and even trans adults who face discrimination. We are called to protect all the sheep, even the sheep who may be a little bit different. The good shepherd is our model. This is how we do God’s work. This is how we serve God best.

Today our country celebrates mothers. Let’s never forget that this is not an easy celebration for everyone. For some, “mother” is a difficult word. Not all mothers are good. But still we lift up the mothers who, like the good shepherd, lay down their lives, who protect, who guide and lead, even when the way is rough and the path is challenging.

When challenging times do come we all have choices to make – to believe God’s promises and act like the good shepherd or to sink into doubt and fear. With the help of the community of the faithful, like that here at St. James, we have the opportunity to live as a testimony to the life and mission God has given this parish, this diocese, and beyond.

The Lord is OUR shepherd. We should remind ourselves of the promises God made to us and we made to God. In our baptism and in our rites of passage – this is a place of prayer and a place of faith. God is known here, and you must tell your story to all who come to hear it. And we celebrate whenever we gather around God’s table. Let us remember who we are, and let us rejoice! The Good Shepherd has shown us the way. Amen.