A circle of friends on pilgrimage for the love of God

Easter 4 – Good Shepherd Sunday

Rev. Dr, Les Martin

Good Shepherd, Watanabe Sadao (1977) 

Easter 4 – Good Shepherd Sunday
Rev. Dr. Les Martin
Psalm 23, Revelation 7:9-17, Luke 10:22-29

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.
John 10:27

In the Name of the Living God: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen

The book of Revelation is a kaleidoscope of images that keep changing and changing. The appearance of Jesus has also been changing: in chapters 1 through 4, we have Jesus the priest, teaching John and his 7 churches. In chapter 5, Jesus appears both as the Lion of Judah and the Lamb that was slain, the one who conquers by his own defeat. Today, in chapter 7, on this Good Shepherd Sunday, we hear that the Lamb is also the Shepherd of his people.

The idea of God as a shepherd was deeply embedded in the living faith of Israel, as seen in numerous Old Testament passages. It may be an unusual portrayal in our day and age, but it was electrifying for those who, after the resurrection, remembered how Jesus had spoken of himself: as a shepherd.  For us, it is enough to remember that a shepherd is a person who tends, herds, feeds, or guards flocks of sheep.  He leads them, and the sheep come out after him.

Another image looms large in our Revelation reading today: a gathering of people so vast that no one could possibly count it.  Who are these people? Chapter 7, verse 4 has told us that 144,000 have come out from the tribes of Israel- eschatological Israel is much bigger.  In John 10:16, Jesus had said that he had other sheep that he would bring into the fold, so that there would be one flock, one shepherd.  Here, we see them: gathered from every nation and tribe and people and language, they retain their beautiful diversity but acknowledge only one allegiance. They have come out, leaving behind the identities and situations that once demanded their loyalty. No tribe, no country, no politics, or custom holds sway with them any longer, they answer only to the the voice of the Shepherd.

Where have these people come from? The elder answers John the Divine that ‘These are the ones who have come out of the great suffering.”  We do well to take an expansive view of what this means.  The 5th-century Archbishop Caesarius of Arles teaches us that:

These are not, as some think, only martyrs, but rather the whole people in the church. For it does not say that they washed their robes in their own blood but in the blood of the Lamb, that is, in the grace of God through Jesus Christ, our Lord. As it is written, “And the blood of his Son has cleansed us.

All who have gone through the valley of the shadow of death with only the Shepherd as their comfort are here. All who have found themselves at his table- but have also found it set in the midst of their enemies are here.  Martyrs, yes, but also the the poor in spirit, the grieving, the meek, and those tired of corruption, those who are merciful in an ugly world, pure in a perverse world, peacemakers in a world of war, the persecuted, the insulted, those gossiped and lied about- all are here.

Why are they here?  Because of the Lamb, who is their Shepherd.  It is he who has called them out of the great suffering. The garments of their lives have been stained in the world of sin and death. The sin and death done unto them, done by them. Washed in the blood of the Lamb- washed in Baptism- they suffer no more and are now before the throne of God, serving him day and night in his temple as a kingdom of priests.

What are these people like now?  The short answer is this:  they are just fine. Having endured the valley of the shadow of death, now all that they have suffered is past.  Hear the words of the prophet Isaiah:

You will say to the prisoners, ‘Come out,’
and to those who are in dark dungeons, ‘Emerge.’
They will graze beside the roads;
on all the slopes they will find pasture.
They will not be hungry or thirsty;
the sun’s oppressive heat will not beat down on them,
for one who has compassion on them will guide them;
he will lead them to springs of water. (Isaiah 49:9-10)

There is perhaps one final question we need to consider as we reflect on our Revelation reading today: What difference does it make for you and me? Or, more plainly, so what?

Let’s start with some Greek: the Greek word “ekklesia,” meaning church, is derived from two other Greek words “ek” (meaning “out”) and “kaleo” (meaning “to call”).  The church, then, is “the called out ones.”  The church is the sheep  who are called out and led by the Shepherd.

One of the problems in looking at Revelation- as a result of how our culture reads it, I think- is that we see it solely in terms of the future. We can read this lesson and say “Oh, look what happens for those people. Good for them.” We forget, beloved, that those people we see in Revelation chapter 7 are the church – those people are us.  Having heard Jesus’ voice, his call, it is we who have come out.  Called from the entire earth, brought safely through the valley of the shadow of this life, baptism washes us in the blood of the Lamb, and it is we who are made pure, and no one can snatch us from his hands.  It is we who, one day, will have every last tear wiped away from our eyes by a nail-scarred hand as we sit by springs of living water.  We are a part of this scene. We are in that multitude, it’s not some “other people” in the future.

Honestly, in another sense, it’s not even future. The 4th century North African Church Father Tyconius would have us understand that it is also us in the here-and-now.  He writes that the church does:

…not hunger because they are fed by the living Bread. He said, “I am the living Bread who came down from heaven.” Nor will they thirst, for they will drink from a cup so excellent that it will be for them what the Truth said, “Whoever believes in me shall never thirst,”… He proclaims that the strength of his sacraments will be strong in those who belong to him and that they will not be vexed.

Rich words, and a reality that we live in right now.  If old Tyconius’ words are a little too complex, then perhaps Father Henry Baker’s hymn makes the reality of our life as the church more compelling to our ears and hearts: 

Thou spreadst a table in my sight;
thy unction grace bestoweth;
and oh, what transport of delight
from thy pure chalice floweth!
And so through all the length of days,
thy goodness faileth never;
Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise
within thy house forever.

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