Sheep May Safely Graze

One of the most endearing biblical images is the shepherd and sheep. I feel confident that’s one image because sheep need a shepherd and a shepherd needs sheep, don’t they? Even the lost sheep was found by a shepherd eventually.

It can also be one of the most archaic for modern people and its understanding often hinges on a Sunday sermon here or there. Still, it’s much beloved and comforting for many. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want” may be among the most familiar words in the bible.

In John’s gospel, “I am the Good Shepherd” is one of the key statements Jesus makes about his identity. It’s part of a passage in which Jesus talks about the sheep knowing the shepherd’s voice and the shepherd caring for the sheep. Jesus also describes himself as the gate for the sheepfold that protects the sheep and saves the sheep from the thief, because “the thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.” But I, says Jesus, I came that you may have life and have it abundantly (John 10:10).

As familiar and comforting as the shepherd image may be, I think it’s that promise of life that’s most important. It ought to be in the motto, mission and vision of every church, every faith community - any community.

There’s lots of other things that could be included, of course, to be more specific, but isn’t that a true description of the kind of community that we want to create? A place where we have life. Abundantly.

Abundantly. That’s a word we use to quantify something, something we can measure by volume, a large volume.  And in a materialistic world, it’s more often associated with want than need.

In a church context, you’ve probably heard it as part of a stewardship or financial campaign. As in, please remember to give - of your time or talents or finances - from a sense of abundance, not scarcity. That’s truly important, it is, in any context. Scarcity confines our thinking and limits our perception of the possibilities that a generous sense of abundance offers.

It’s a bit like life, don’t you think? We say that the only certainties of life are death and taxes, both things that take from us. If you live your life through the lens of death, what kind of life is that? Shouldn’t the true certainty of life be that it’s full of opportunities for living? So please, do remember to give from abundance, not just in church, but generally.  It’s important and necessary.  But it’s not what Jesus is talking about here.  There’s something that has to come first.

Jesus isn’t asking you to give abundantly, but to receive abundantly. Jesus wants you to receive this life he offers, to receive it abundantly in all the richness and fullness in which it is offered.

And what is this life that Jesus offers?  Maybe we’ve come to use sheep in a negative way, but look, as Jesus describes it, the sheep are provided care, safety and comfort in the community of the sheepfold. And when it’s time to go out into the world, the same shepherd leads them. This is the life that is offered by following the way that Jesus teaches, the life that the earliest Christians will mean when they call themselves The People of The Way.

Maybe our churches are a little dated and flawed, too. But surely the idea of a community that provides a safe place to be who you are, a community that cares for each other, a community that’s life giving, even giving life abundantly - isn’t that a way to go?

Walk and Talk and Know

It should be no surprise that, given the current political climate, clips and full episodes of The West Wing are showing up online. Aaron Sorkin’s popular award-winning tv show aired from 1999-2006, highlighting the inner workings of the administration of a fictional two term US president. It’s considered one of the greatest tv shows of all time and it earned bipartisan respect in its day. Not any more, I don’t suppose. The president was a Democrat.

That’s not what I’m interested in here, though. It’s the writing. The West Wing is famous for its “walk and talk” story telling. A dialogue intensive show, Sorkin would have two characters be in conversation walking down a hallway. One might leave and the other is joined by another character as they continue walking and talking. Sometimes multiple characters were involved. It advanced the plot and provided some movement when there otherwise would have been just dialogue. It’s a technique picked up by many since then and even hilariously parodied by others. It always made me wonder, though, just how long are the hallways in the White House? Probably wasn’t nine and a half kilometres.

According to Luke’s gospel, that’s how far it was from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Sixty stadia or about nine and a half kilometres. Sorkin wasn’t the first to do the “walk and talk.” In Luke’s gospel, two of Jesus’ followers are walking the road to Emmaus when they meet the resurrected Jesus “that same day” that the women discovered the tomb was empty (Luke 21:13-35).  They’re lost in the events of the last few days and, when Jesus joins them on the road, they don’t recognize him. He asks them about what happened and they talk, the disciples sharing what happened and how they felt, Jesus sharing with them why it was so important that it happened and teaching them “the things about himself in all the scriptures.” When they get to their destination, they invite the stranger to stay with them and they finally recognize him “in the breaking of the bread.” Then he disappears.

So, all this walking and talking and they finally recognize it’s Jesus when he does something - an action - they recognize as “Jesus-y” and then disappears. Well, that’s not surprising really. As far as they knew Jesus was dead, despite the unbelievable stories, and they wouldn’t expect to meet him in person. On the road. Going the same direction they were. We’ve probably all been there, not recognizing someone because they’re completely out of the context of how we know them.

But is that really the moment of recognition? Must we have a physical sign to know when it’s Jesus? 

When Jesus is gone, one of them says “were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road?” Yes! Yes, that’s it, that’s the moment.

It’s not just behaviour, recognizing the physical being of the character named Jesus. It’s about recognizing what Jesus is: the living out of the divine spirit of love, grace and compassion that’s in each of us, not just Jesus. That’s The Way of Jesus. We have been so tuned to what we see in order to believe, we missed the true moment of recognition. John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, famously wrote about the spiritual experience that led him to know Jesus as his “heart was strangely warmed.” That’s where it begins.

It’s more than walk and talk, it’s heartfelt connection. That’s the new life.

It Bears Repeating

Back on that sabbath day, the day after Jesus had been executed, the disciples must have felt lonely and afraid. Jesus was dead, it seemed, and not only were they afraid of the Romans who might have wondered about their association with the self-proclaimed King of the Jews and the religious authorities who denounced the followers of the man claiming to be the messiah, but they were probably afraid of their own people, too. Others who had heard Jesus' message, maybe even been followers, had deserted them, much as they had deserted Jesus when he was arrested. Some might even have been angry and vengeful because what had been promised, the messiah who would free them, turned out to be a such a disappointment.

Can’t blame them if they thought they should hide, like the Gospel of John says they do.

But the next day, the gospel says that Jesus appeared to them and said "peace be with you.  As the Father has sent me, so I send you" (John 20:21). He breathed on them and said this is the spirit of life, go and live. He told them to not be afraid, to go into the world and do that thing he'd been teaching them: to go and love one another as Jesus had showed them to love, in relationship with all around them, to love even the hardest to love, to live with care and compassion and justice and equality (John 15:9-12). 

It's no wonder the authors of the Gospel of John recorded the story that way. Context is important here. Many contemporary bible scholars think that the Gospel of John probably dates from the late 1st century, later than the others and much later than the story it conveys. The author - or authors, we’re not sure - didn’t just have the story, they had how the people had been, and were, interpreting it. And now, they were relating it to the people at a very difficult time. 

The followers of Jesus, the People of the Way, were fearful and doubting. This was a community fending off the oppression of the Romans and the alienation of Jews (the first followers of Jesus, as good Jews, had continued to attend synagogue as well as practice their own "christ-centred" rituals until they were expelled from the Jewish community). They were also being challenged by their expansion into non-Jewish communities. And, of course, Jesus said he’d return and he hadn’t yet. Some people were beginning to question the story and wonder about the faith they were putting in it. It would have been very easy to lock themselves away from the rest of the world.

And Jesus say don't do that. Don't hide behind walls.  Don't separate yourself from the rest of the world. Go and love. Love yourself, love people, love the world. Love God. Go and love.

So: are we going out and loving the world? Or are we building more walls, locking more doors and finding more ways - we even try to make them “reasons,” as if they were reasonable - to exclude and ignore? Are we trying to love each other and share in relationships with each other, or are we making more rules to protect ourselves and constantly seeking more power to control our lives and the lives of others, especially the ones who don’t agree with us? Are we speaking out or keeping silent? Are we living Jesus?

An Easter Life

There’s this line in “Jesus Christ Superstar” that always stands out to me.

Jesus is brought to Pilate and the crowd’s calling for Jesus to be crucified, but a reluctant Pilate decides to just have him flogged instead. After that, with the angry mob standing by, a frustrated Pilate tries to get Jesus to defend himself. The last thing Jesus says in his response is “everything is fixed and you can’t change it.”

I wonder sometimes if that’s the way we approach the whole Easter story.

There could be two meanings to that “fixed,” aren’t there. One is that everything is all set - set in stone would be a good biblical image - and there’s nothing you can do about that. This is how it goes, everything firmly in its place. The other is that something that’s fixed is repaired, mended or restored. It was broken and now it’s not.

I’m not questioning what’s true at the heart of the story. But sometimes, I wonder if we don’t leave it as flat as the words on the page and forget that there are moments of triumph, betrayal, last suppers, crucifixions, closed tombs, empty tombs and new life in our daily living. If how we experience the story isn’t reflected in our lived experience, then how is it any more than just a story? Can we be led to new life without the experiences that bring it?

In John’s account of the resurrection, Mary meets the risen Jesus and then goes to tell the disciples. She says “I have seen the Lord.” How powerful is that. She’s seen him each day, seen how he lived, seen him die, seen the empty tomb and now she sees him alive. In our lived experience, can we see how Jesus - all that Jesus is and means - is alive in the world?

The other “fixed” is the idea that Jesus’ death and resurrection makes everything better and we have nothing to do with it. “Jesus paid it all” and “our sin is washed away in his blood” are common expressions that can lead to the idea that Jesus took care of everything and now we’re good. What more do we need to do?

Live.

That’s the thing about seeing the story reflected in our own lives. We have a lot of living to do and we’ll encounter many experiences, we may even sin (however you might define that). There’s challenges and opportunities, we may encounter disappointment, hate, anger and especially fear, but we have hope because there is new life, new beginnings rising out of each and every day. It isn’t done for us, we have living to do.

In Jesus life we are shown how the divine spirit is in us and how we can live it into the world and with the world. That’s the part that doesn’t change. From all we encounter, there is new life, new and different experiences that aren’t fixed either way, but are living, breathing opportunities. “Don’t be afraid,” Jesus says more often than anything else, the spirit of life is in you. Don’t be afraid to live. 

Life Before Death

As part of our preparation for Holy Week and Easter this year, our churches have had a study group in Lent looking at the key characters in the story through the lens of how those characters are portrayed in Jesus Christ Superstar, the musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice. This was inspired by the Bashaw Community Theatre production over the Palm Sunday weekend, Good Friday and Holy Saturday.

There’s been lots of debate about JCSS since it first appeared as a rock album in 1970 and subsequently became a popular stage musical. It’s the story of Jesus’ last days, but it’s not particularly “biblical.” That’s not its point. It imagines the relationships between Jesus and the one dimensional characters that surround him in the narrative and gives them depth and personality. It imagines a different way to see the story and from that vantage point invites us to think more deeply about what was happening.

At least, I think it does, whether you’re familiar with the story, both the gospel narratives and the traditions we’ve developed around them, or you don’t know the story at all, and then it offers a deeply passionate exploration of relationships, love, power and sacrifice. Passion is the key word there.

In one of our last group meetings, someone commented that they’d been listening to excerpts of the St. Matthew Passion by J.S Bach on the radio when they realized that Jesus Christ Superstar was a “Passion.” The Passion is what the church formally calls the narrative of Jesus’ final days, his arrest, trial and crucifixion. Just like the movie title, The Passion of the Christ. Reading “The Passion” as part of the Good Friday service or, more recently, the Sunday before (calling it “Passion Sunday”) means reading that portion of one of the gospels that covers those days. Many classical composers have set that to music and J.S. Bach’s are among the most famous.

I agree, Jesus Christ Superstar is a “Passion,” though it offers a different perspective on telling the story, one which is, in all ways, passionate.

The Passion, as the church titles it, is the arrest, trial, and crucifixion of Jesus. In other words, it’s about suffering, agony and death. The characters in the story - the good, the bad and the fearful - serve that narrative simply, without much colour or complexity. JCSS takes the time to explore some of those characters and their relationships. How Mary struggles with her love for Jesus, for example, and, more importantly, how Judas does, too. Yes, Judas. And Jesus. Is he, as the song says, “who they say you are?” What’s really going on with the temple authorities? What do they really think of Jesus? And Pilate and the colourful Herod, too. 

The point is, it raises questions that dive deeper into the story because it develops the characters in order to understand their relationships, their love, their devotion, even their sacrifice. Though it ends in death, it explores life, love and yes, passion for that. It’s emotional and deep and passionate in the best possible way.

I wonder if we might spend a little more time with the stories of the living rather than simply how they serve death. That was really the point of Jesus, to bring life, not with his death, but with his living and loving. Jesus was passionate about life.

Living the Life of Lazarus

I find the Gospel of John can be tricky sometimes. I love it dearly, the language is beautiful and so evocative, but I also know that it was written significantly later than the other gospels and writings that are included in christian scripture. The author likely knew the gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke - and much more than that, probably - and had more experience of the followers of Jesus and their lived understanding of what Jesus was all about.

I don’t think that’s a bad thing, not at all. I just think it’s helpful to remember that when the author of John says something that no one else does. It makes me wonder.

Take the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. This story only appears in John. It’s not the only story of Jesus raising someone who appears to be dead. The other gospels have Jesus raising the daughter of Jairus, a leader in the synagogue, and Luke has one about Jesus and the son of a widow. John doesn’t have these accounts and Lazarus’ story is different. It’s more complex and here John seems to double down on the death: Lazarus isn’t newly dead, he’s been dead for days and is already in a tomb. In fact, the author of John quite pointedly has his sister describe his condition - and the King James Version text is just the best here - "Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days.”

Jesus tells them to move the stone from the tomb’s entrance and he calls to Lazarus to come out. Lazarus does, still wrapped in the burial cloths. “Unbind him and let him go,” Jesus says.

Cool.

Traditionally, we’ve interpreted the story as demonstrating both Jesus’ humanity (this is the story with the famous shortest verse in the Bible - “Jesus wept”) and his divine power over death (the verse “I am the resurrection and the life” is part of this story). It also advances the narrative. It’s the moment, as the story continues, that inspires the temple authorities to want to kill Jesus. His bringing life leads to his own death.

But the story continues without Lazarus in it. One more mention, that Jesus is at Lazarus’ house for dinner the night before going into Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday. The author of John writes that people came to see Jesus but also Lazarus because he’d been raised from the dead. So now, the temple authorities plan to Lazarus as well as Jesus.

There’s no mention if they did, but I’m already wondering what happened to Lazarus. And I think that’s pretty critical to how I understand the story.

I don’t know if the story’s real, if it really happened this way, but there’s something very true here.

Jesus’ life shows us how the divine spirit is alive in all of us. To be fully alive, to be whole, is to be more than the physical being we are, it’s to connect with that spirit of life. When it feels like the world has become a tomb, overwhelming our living with hate, anger and despair, Jesus calls us out. Jesus is the Way, according to John, and the Way is true and life-giving. Not the name Jesus, but the Way of being Jesus shows us and calls us to: the love, grace, empathy and compassion that we learn from the life of Jesus is the way to respect, justice and equity, the way to wholeness. 

I wonder what Lazarus did next. I bet he lived.

Open My Eyes

There’s a story  of Jesus giving sight to a blind man in the Gospel of John. The moment itself is quite brief, but it’s what happens to the man afterwards that forms the bulk of the story, which is long. An entire chapter long.

And that doesn’t always happen, does it? We often hear a miracle story as just that: the focus is on the miraculous moment of change brought about by Jesus. Then everyone goes on their way wondering at the divine power of Jesus and we’re on to the next encounter.

But in John 9, that healing moment when the man is given physical sight, as interesting as it is (there’s a whole creation element with mud and spit), doesn’t seem to be the most important part of the story. It highlights a couple things, most significantly that the man was born blind, so it’s not really a restoration moment, but a creation moment. And it offers the opportunity to challenge the idea that what we might judge to be a disability is somehow a punishment from God for sin. That was a prevailing understanding in those days and Jesus’ points out that’s not how God works. There may still be some who think that today, so please see this and any of the many other times Jesus demonstrates that it’s not. Look, it’s just not.

But the judgement continues. Jesus leaves and the man finds himself being questioned, his identity questioned, the reality of his experience being questioned. He ends up being interrogated by the pharisees. They question his parents, too, and all he can say is “I don’t know who he is or how he did it, I just know that I was blind and now I see.” But the pharisees don’t. They judge him a sinner, just like Jesus who had done this on the Sabbath. They determine to cast him out from the synagogue. Jesus gives him the thing that he was marginalized without and he's cast out again, for it this time. Hearing what happened, Jesus seeks him out and tells him who he is. The man simply says “I believe.”

It’s a journey, you see, not just a momentary miracle. And it’s just the beginning of a journey because now he sees the world through Jesus. The healing miracle that begins the journey is different than other such stories in the gospels. The man doesn't seek Jesus out and request it, nor does Jesus ask the man's permission, nor is the man's healing a result of his own faith. The man doesn't seem to know Jesus or anything about him. And yet, he sees. Unlike the pharisees, trapped in the stoney strict adherence to the letter of the law, unwilling to see behind their authority, unwilling to open their eyes to this man’s experience, unwilling to see Jesus - and this man - as anything but a threat. 

Transformation is messy, complex and convoluted sometimes. It can feel like it begins in the mud, it can mean gaining friends and losing them, gaining new life and losing it, it can mean understanding and confusion, it can mean questions with answers and questions with just more questions.

But when we truly open our hearts and minds and look beyond what we know, what we think is certain, we grow. Faith, love, empathy - all these things that build relationships, that connect us, they aren’t threatened by doubt or questions, but by the certainty that we already know everything and by the judgement of others based on that certainty. Do you see?