I wrote the following sermon for Easter 4 of 2020, just a few weeks into the global pandemic. It’s one of the sermons I have felt most called to preach. Given that I explicitly named the violence of capitalism, I also received a good deal of criticism. Yet, two years later, we are living with the tragic hindsight of COVID’s disproportionate impact on the poor, communities of color, and other targeted groups. It didn’t have to be this way.
I returned to this sermon this week while preparing to again preach on Good Shepherd Sunday. Though the lectionary text this year is a few verses deeper into John 10, the question raised earlier in the chapter is vital to consider at this time: What structures and systems do we enact that prevent us and others from hearing and responding to the voice of Love?
Photo by Nikola Knezevic on Unsplash
“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 10:1-10 (NRSV)
Every year on this fourth Sunday of Easter, we read about shepherds, first in the beloved 23rd Psalm, and then in John’s Gospel. The metaphor of God as shepherd is a beloved one in the church, and with good reason: it offers us a comforting image of the Divine as One who tends to us with lovingkindness. We learn of the God who guides us to places of abundant flourishing, the God who, through the moments in life that most frighten us, does not leave our side, but walks with us every step of the way.
However, it’s worth noting that in our Gospel reading today from John, Jesus hasn’t yet referred to himself as shepherd. He will shortly, and next year’s reading will highlight that metaphor. But today? Today, Jesus is the gate.
Gates aren’t exactly a warm, endearing image, as metaphors for God go. We might prefer to pass over the gate so we can get to the Good Shepherd. I get it. The comfort of the Good Shepherd is really appealing, especially right now. But I think if we’re willing to spend some time with the strangeness of Jesus the gate, there’s something vital for us to apply to this season in which we’re living.
On the lectionary blog Spirituality of Conflict, the Rev. Alex Wimberly writes this about Jesus the Gate: “The conflict in this passage...isn’t just about whose voices we instinctively respond to or who it is we can trust; it is also about whether we have the right structures in place to keep all of us safe and to keep each of us in reach of what we need to thrive. In this initial analogy Jesus isn’t presenting himself as the better choice for people to follow; he is stressing everyone’s need for basic security and his desire that all might enjoy the fullness of life.... [T]his passage pushes us to ask questions that shouldn’t need to be asked. Does our sheepfold have a gate? Are our structures adequately protecting the folk they should serve? Can everyone expect basic securities and access to basic needs? Check again. Gates are important.”
Friends, I can’t think of a better moment for us to encounter Jesus the Gate than right now. Entering through the Good Gate is about discerning between those systems that are glorifying to God because they promote abundant life, and those systems that are death-dealing. And we desperately need structures that preserve life and promote flourishing.
As compounding factors, including poverty, racism, and lack of sufficient healthcare, are resulting in much higher COVID-19 mortality rates for already vulnerable groups, there are those people who would have us maintain the broken systems that have exacerbated this crisis.
Now is not the time to listen to the voices that seek to lure us outside the gate with false promises of stability and normalcy.
Now is the time to listen to the voice of the God who calls us to care for the vulnerable; to care for one another; to move toward a world where all can thrive.
There are some voices -- thieves and bandits, as Jesus would say -- insisting that if we aren’t willing to sacrifice some people to this virus, the economy will suffer.
“Whose economy?” we must ask.
The economy of thieves who exploit vulnerable communities in order to expand their own absurd wealth? The economy of bandits who feign pity for the plight of the poor, in order that they might keep the poor working in minimum wage jobs without healthcare in the midst of a pandemic?
The economy we have is not an economy that ensures the flourishing of the flock. It’s an economy where children go hungry without vital school feeding programs; an economy in which it’s easier to buy a gun than to vote; an economy in which one in four families lives paycheck to paycheck; and an economy in which just three men own as much wealth as the bottom half of Americans.
Surely, this is not the sort of structure which Jesus, the good Gate, envisions for the beloved children of God.
Such systems will not lead us to the green pastures or quiet streams of the divine imagination! We must reject such exploitative economies. We must refuse to go back to a way of life which causes harm to so many. We must run from those who promise us security at the cost of others' well-being. We can imagine something better.
This will be hard. But it is not impossible.
We know this because we have the story of the first-century church in the Acts of the Apostles. We read this morning about how the followers of the Way created something radically different in the midst of a deeply inequitable and oppressive society. The Roman empire in which they lived had a slave-based economy which grew on the basis of brutal conquest and colonization.
Bravely walking through the Good Gate, these early Christians recognized Caesar and his allies as thieves and bandits, whose extravagant lifestyles depended upon keeping the majority submissive within a hand-to-mouth system. They took seriously what they had learned about Jesus from the apostles:
They got together as a community, and devoted themselves to sharing all they had, putting in practice the beliefs that the poor are blessed, and that the last will be first and the first, last.
Those who had assets sold them, pooled them and distributed them, in order to provide for those who had none.
The bread was broken, and all were fed.
This was a strange society, completely antithetical to the Roman way of life. Theirs was a subversive solidarity economy that posed a direct threat to the empire’s existence. And ultimately, this community contributed to the fall of that oppressive regime.
Right now, we are in a unique position to begin a no-less radical reorientation of our communal life. We are being invited to make moves toward the Good Gate, leaving behind those systems that have killed and destroyed God’s beloved, for the sort of structures that provide all of God’s children with what they need to live full and healthy lives.
This begins with valuing the work we are doing together.
Staying home is hard work. It’s important for us to name that. Our current capitalistic system fails to value the work of caring for one’s own children, cleaning one’s home and cooking nourishing food. It utterly ignores the importance of maintaining a deep prayer life, tending to one’s mental health, and staying physically active.
But all of these things are work. Real, hard and good work. If no one else has said this to you, please hear from me: I see you working hard to stay home, and I am thankful for your efforts.
As we do this work let us keep in mind that the loving boundaries we are holding right now are intended for the flourishing of our elders, those with preconditions, the homeless, and so many who do not have the option of staying home.
We are staying in for the sake of nurses, cleaning staff, doctors, social workers, and other frontline folks who are daily exposing their bodies to a dangerous virus in order to prevent greater suffering.
As the early church discovered, the call of Jesus to be in solidarity with the vulnerable is in constant conflict with the exploitative systems of our world that throw people away. But the work we are doing right now can be the foundation of beneficial structures that last beyond this crisis:
Let us build a world in which abundant life is a birthright, not something to be earned, hoarded, or stolen.
Let us build a world that prioritizes care for the most vulnerable.
Let us come and go through the Good Gate, as together, we follow the Good Shepherd to green pastures.
Amen.