Easter 4
April 30, 2023
(Jesus said:) “Very truly, I
tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by
another way is a thief and a bandit. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the
sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear
his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has
brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him
because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from
him because they do not know the voice of strangers.”
Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did
not understand what he was saying to them. So again Jesus
said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came
before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate.
Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find
pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I
came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.
John says, “They did not
understand what he was saying to them.” That’s a typical reaction, and I think
we know why. This is one of those passages that we think we understand - and then
it goes out of focus.
We hear Jesus speak of “sheep”
and “the Shepherd,” and it transports us the 23rd Psalm. The Good Shepherd
knows the flock. He calls each of the sheep by name. The sheep recognize his
voice. He leads them toward the green pasture and the still waters. They follow
him to the pasture because they know his voice. Everybody knows a safe pasture
has a gate.
Then Jesus pulls the fleece
over their eyes and declares, “I am the gate.”
Well, which is it? Shepherd
or Gate? A few verses later, he goes on to say, “I am the Good Shepherd.” But
before he gets there, he says, “I am the gate. The sheep must pass through me
to find pasture.”
It’s one of those Bible passages
that provokes a bit of twitching. As if to say, “Nobody gets to the pasture
unless they go through me.” As if to say, “There’s no other way to the life of
eternity without passing through me.” Next week, we will hear it again, when he
says, in chapter 14, “No one comes to the Father but through me.” (14:6).
Pushed to its extreme, twisted
out of context, verses like these have often been used to push a brand of
exclusivity. I’m thinking of those churches that declare, “No one gets to the
Father without passing through us.” We have several churches like that, even a
few in this town. Actions speak louder than words, but listen to their words: “Your
baptism doesn’t count unless you’ve been baptized by us. Your communion doesn’t
count unless we give it to you. We are the beginning and the end of salvation.
Can’t get to heaven unless you go through us.”
After Easter, I find this a
comical claim. Jesus is raised up as the Lord over all. Not merely as the
benefactor of the First United Agree-with-Us-Or-Be-Damned Holy Roller Church. He
is Lord over all. All. And he is the Gate, not any of us. His words are not so
much exclusive as they are universal. Jesus is the Gate to the pasture, whether
you know him or not. Of all the various paths, his path is the true path. People
are free to pursue other paths, and many do, but sooner or later, every path
leads through Jesus.
It's like going through the Lehigh
Tunnel on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. There it is, waiting for you. You must
pass through it. It’s silly to attempt driving over the mountain when the way
has been established. In this sense, Jesus is the way. Ultimately, finally,
without any input from us, he’s the way. That’s what the Good Shepherd is
telling us: he is the Gate.
The Gospel of John is not
particularly interested in shutting anybody out. Over in the Gospel of Matthew,
we find some of that, but not here. John tells us, “God so loved the world that
he sent his only Son, so that whoever trusts in him will not perish but have
the life of eternity (3:16).” It does say “whoever.” It does not say “only the
left-handed” or “only the Baptist” or “only the Orthodox” or “only the Presbyterian.”
The promise is for “whoever.”
Which is to say if Jesus if
the Gate, there is a lot more hope for the world than we might have thought.
Some of us might have a chance at getting in. It’s his grace that is the
ticket, not our achievements or good moral habits.
At the same time, don’t miss what
he says. As surely as the Gate welcomes the sheep, it can keep some counterfeits
out. John calls these “thieves and bandits.” Their intent is to plunder and
steal. They want to break in to grab what is not theirs. And they will sneak in
any way they can.
Maybe you’ve heard the story
of a woman who was awakened one night from a deep sleep. She heard a man’s
voice calling for help. The voice was muffled, but she could hear it. “Help! Help!”
Thinking it was her husband, she shook him vigorously, only to discover he was
sleeping – and he wanted to stay that way.
She wondered if she was
dreaming, rolled over, and shut her eyes. Then she heard the cries again, “Help!
Help!” She got out of bed, put on her slippers, and padded downstairs. Turning
on the light in the living room, she heard the voice get louder. “Help!” “Where
are you?” she asked. The voice said, “In the fireplace.” There, dangling in the
fireplace flue, was a burglar stuck upside down. Police and firefighters
eventually got him loose, but only after pulling out some bricks and ripping
out the mantle.
The best part of the story
was what she did while she waited for help. She turned on all the lights,
reached for her cell phone, and recorded the scene. Her husband was still
snoring in the bedroom as she filmed the upside-down burglar at two o’clock in
the morning,
The only thing better would
have been if she gave him a severe reading of John 10: “Very truly, I tell you,
anyone who does not enter by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief
and a bandit. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. Jesus said, “I
came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”
The joy of God, the life of
God, the eternity of God comes through proper access. There is no counterfeit
entry. There’s no open window in the basement to let you sneak in. Abundant life
does not come by stealing from others, or breaking and entering, or looking for
shortcuts. And most of all, the abundant life Jesus offers does not find us if
we are fearful or stingy toward others.
I’ve noticed that whenever
the church is fearful and afraid, it attempts some gatekeeping. To hear some folks
talk, “The only way to get through our gate is by getting through our team of
bouncers.” Admission is granted to the virtuous and the few. You must agree
with us on all points. You must do what we tell you before we let you get close
to the Christ that we are guarding. You must talk like us, pray like us, and buy
our version of the Bible from our approved list of publishers.
Sounds like a lot of good
old-fashioned fear. Could it be that some Christians are afraid that Jesus might
actually be a nice guy? Or to put a theological coat on it, that grace might triumph
over judgment? OR that love might win over fear?
I remember the meeting when I
served on a committee for presbytery. We got a report that a few people in one
of our churches were furious because the minister was allowing too many people to
come to the communion table. The problem wasn’t crowding, you understand. It
was access. By all reports, too many sinners were trying to get close to Jesus.
According to the New Testament, this is not a new problem.
Conversation ensued. We began
to name all the things that Presbyterians have come to believe about the Lord’s
Supper. That it’s a privilege for the unworthy rather a right to be earned. That
none of us could ever be good enough to earn a place at the Table – or admission
into the green pastures and still waters. Yet we are welcomed to come through a
Christ who is ever more gracious than we are.
As that conversation churned
along, I reflected on a funeral that I’d preside. A family wanted to remember
their mother. They asked for the Lord’s Supper, even though we usually don’t do
that at a funeral – and even though they knew it would be a mixed house. “We
want everybody to know they are welcome,” they said, “because Jesus loves us
all.” So that’s what we did. We don’t have an altar call in the Presbyterian
Church, primarily because it puts too much emphasis on the individual. What we
do is invite people to the communion table - for at the Table, the emphasis is
on the open arms of Jesus Christ. He is the access between heaven and earth.
According to the tenth
chapter of John, there isn’t much for a gatekeeper to do. In verse three, the
gatekeeper opens the gate. Period. He doesn’t charge for admission. He doesn’t check
for a backstage pass. He doesn’t screen or sort the crowd. He simply opens the
gate. The shepherd can pass through. The sheep can pass through. And listen to
this: the sheep have the freedom to come and go; that’s one of the remarkable
features of this text. The sheep can choose the protection of the shepherd. The
shepherd doesn’t have to slam the gate and yell for them to stay inside. The
gate stays open. And the only way in is through the gate.
Green pastures, still waters.
We’ve been announcing them for three thousand years. As witnesses to the Risen
Christ whose arms are open wide, our job is to keep the Gate open, and let
others know that it is for them as much as it is for the rest of us. Jesus is
our Access to what God intends for all people. He reveals the grace of the
Father. He welcomes those who love the Lord their God and those unwanted by anybody
else. This is the good news.
The only requirement laid upon
the Sheep is to listen. To listen for the Shepherd to call their names. It is a
Voice unlike any other. It does not sound fearful or suspicious, like the other
gatekeepers. It is cynical or snide, like those seeking spiritual shortcuts. It
is a Voice of grace, a Voice of welcome. As the Good Shepherd says a few minutes
later, “I have other sheep who are not of this fold, and I must go and get
them.” Can you hear that invitation? Then the Voice is calling for you.
For years St. Anthony’s
Catholic Church in San Francisco has served meals to people in need. Over the
doorway to its dining room the church has posted a sign bearing the
inscription: Caritate Dei. One day a young mechanic, just released from
jail and new to St. Anthony’s, entered the door and sat down for a meal. A
woman was busy cleaning the adjoining table. “When do we got on our knees and
do the chores, lady?” he asked. “You don’t,” she replied.
“Then when’s the sermon comin’?”
he inquired. “Aren’t any,” she said.
“How ‘bout the lecture on
life, huh?” “Not here,” she said.
The man was suspicious, “So
what’s the gimmick?” The woman pointed to the inscription over the door. Caritate
Dei. He squinted at the sign. “What’s it mean, lady?”
“Out of love for God,” she
said with a smile, and moved on to another table.[1] You know, that’s
not a bad inscription to put over our door.
[1] Peter Marty, “The door to
abundant life,” The Christian Century, April 17, 1996.
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