Fourth Sunday of Easter, rcl yr a, 2023
ACTS 2:42-47; PSALM 23; 1 PETER 2:19-25; JOHN 10:1-10
I came that they may have life,
and have it abundantly
Today is Good Shepherd Sunday—Good Shepherd Sunday because we have Psalm 23 in the lectionary, where we hear that “The Lord is my shepherd.”We are reminded quite quickly in this psalm, that first, we have a shepherd, and that secondly, our shepherd is one of the good ones, the sort that would care for our bodies with green pasture and good water, and even restore our souls, leading us down the right sort of path.
We start here, with the ways our shepherd is good, perhaps as a way to ground us in a world of care, but a world of care in which there are very real threats against us.
Because Psalm 23 goes on, doesn’t it, to say that having a shepherd, and having a shepherd that is good, does not preserve us from the reality that there is darkness, that there is evil in the world. Though as we face this darkness, as we face this evil—our shepherd will still find a way to comfort us.
It’s what’s depicted on the stained glass window above the high altar—there is a shepherd that would seek us out when we are lost and left to the predators and the darkness, and carry us to safety.
As Jesus makes the claim that he is this Good Shepherd in John’s Gospel, he too isn’t far from saying all these things.
First, that there is a Good Shepherd (although Jesus will go so far to say that he himself is this Good Shepherd), and that having Jesus as a Good Shepherd isn’t quite yet a way of eradicating the presence of all evil in the world. That time will come; all things will be made new in the future that God promises. But Jesus says here, much like we hear in Psalm 23, that to have a Good Shepherd that cares, that a Good Shepherd can call his own by name, and a Good Shepherd that his own will follow because they’ve learned to trust his voice, means life in the midst of darkness. The darkness that is being overcome, to be sure; but that there are thieves and bandits set not on the sort of care that leads to trust, but those who would take advantage of others for their own sake, their own enrichment. We are reminded again that there is darkness, there is evil; but that in the midst of this darkness and evil, and even people who traffic in darkness—that is, there are bad shepherds—that even in the midst if this there is one who cares, and there is one who is trustworthy.
The reality of bad shepherds was well-known to Israel. The prophet Ezekiel will spend a whole chapter, roughly, describing these bad shepherds—shepherds that do not do what they are meant to do: shepherds that do “not strengthened the weak … [nor do they heal] the sick, [bind] up the injured, [bring] back the strayed, [seek] the lost,” shepherds who rule “with with force and harshness.” As a result the sheep are scattered, and are made the food of wild animals.
This, for Ezekiel, was about politics—and what makes for a good leader. A good leader, a good shepherd, will care for the weak, the sick, and the injured; a good leader, a good shepherd, will go and find the ones who are lost and bring them back to safety; a good leader, a good shepherd, will rule with mercy and kindness.
But the bad shepherds, by their active neglect of the poor, have become rich through the impoverishment of others; Ezekiel makes this not just about politics, then, but also about economics—these bad shepherds are said to eat their own sheep. And so the Lord God, in Ezekiel, will say “I am against the shepherds; and I will demand my sheep at their hand … I will rescue my sheep from their mouths, so that they may not be food for them.”
We are meant to hear all this, the politics, the economics, the reality of bad shepherds who rule with force and harshness, bad shepherds who grow wealthy at the expense of the poor, when Jesus says, in John’s Gospel, that the “thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came,” says Jesus, “that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”
Peter’s letter gestures even more deeply into this reality of good shepherds and bad shepherds. When Peter writes that “by his wounds we are healed,” he draws our ears to another prophet, the prophet Isaiah, and where Isaiah speaks of the “lamb that is led to the slaughter.” The lamb that John the Baptist says is Jesus, “the lamb that takes away the sin of the world,” and the one to whom we sing in the eucharistic liturgy to have mercy on us, the one we bid to grant us peace.
This is the irony and the tragedy of the Gospel: that Jesus the Good Shepherd, the one who would care for us, and lead us into goodness, who would save us from the thieves and the bandits, the one who would save us from the mouths of the bad shepherds who would eat from their own flock, the bad shepherds who would scatter the flock into the places where they would be consumed by wild animals—Jesus the Good Shepherd is himself led to slaughter, the lamb abandoned by the bad shepherds who would scatter their flocks into the wild places, hunted like prey and consumed by evil: Jesus is the one left derelict on the cross.
It would be unwise for us to do anything less than the prophets and the gospels would do: we should indeed speak the truth about the darkness. It is real, and that it has power. There are forces in the world that would deny life.
The prophets and the gospels would have us be honest about the breadth of these darknesses: there are the darknesses of the politics that abandon people in need, and there are the darknesses of the sort of economics that eat the poor. But we would be reminded that there are spiritual darknesses, and psychological ones, too, that breed despair and anguish.
We would be reminded that we are often a jumble of all these things, people that benefit from the politics and economics of the day—that we may be in league with the bad shepherds more than we would like to admit—even as we would buck against that bridle along with the prophets, that we would defy such powers along with Ezekiel, and make our solidarities with the broken and the lost. And we too may suffer, from time to time, from despair and anguish for this reason, and for many others.
We would also be reminded, though, that there is a Good Shepherd, and that this shepherd would go so far as to lay down his life for the sheep, to be as a lamb to the slaughter, to be subject himself to the death that is so perversely loved by the bad shepherds of the world.
But that in so doing, in being made subject to the death and darkness wrought by the bad shepherds, the thieves, and the bandits, made subject to despair and anguish, too, but that by doing so he would be made the gate to life—“Whoever enters by me will be saved,” he teaches us.
And that though there would be things in this world that come only “to steal and kill and destroy,” we would be wise to be reminded that the “light shines in the darkness,” too; and that “the darkness [does] not overcome it”; that the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep has come that we would “have life, and have it abundantly.”
The Revd Canon Dr Preston Parsons
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.