SERMON FOR MAY 8, 2022      TEXT: JOHN 10:22-30
   The issue of Jesus’s identity drives the story that John tells in his gospel. The various descriptive “I am” statements serve as his credentials:  I am the bread of life. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. I am the light of the world. I am the gate for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I am the resurrection and the life. I am the way, and the truth, and the life. I am the true vine. In John chapter 10 Jesus expounds on the figure of the good shepherd, reminding his hearers that they are a flock under God’s protection and care. This image would have been familiar to them from both the prophets and the psalms. For example, Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want . . . Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff — they comfort me.”  And from Isaiah (40:10-11): “See, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him and his recompense before him. He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.”  
     There was nothing objectionable in the figure of the shepherd itself; indeed, it was a wonderfully comforting one, suggesting that the mighty God of Israel shows his power in acts of tender vigilance. What causes offense to many of Jesus’ hearers is that he applies this image of God to himself. He begins by telling them, “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep (vv.14-15). Jesus moves from this daring claim of a unique relationship with God to what his critics perceive as outright sacrilege. “If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly,” they demand. He responds, “What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’ hand. The Father and I are one.” The story then continues: The Jews took up stones again to stone him. Jesus replied, “I have shown you many good works from the Father. For which of these are you going to stone me?” The Jews answered, “It is not for a good work that we are going to stone you but for blasphemy, because you, though only a human, are making yourself God” (vv. 31-33). 
     Jesus challenges them to interpret his words through the lens of his actions. “If I am not doing the works of my Father, then do not believe me. But if I do them, even though you do not believe me, believe the works, so that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father” (vv. 37-38). Still they remain outraged and estranged, unable to hear his voice, unwilling to follow his lead.
     It is easy to judge these opponents for their unbelief and violent resistance. Yet we, who live on the other side of Christ’s resurrection, know how difficult it often is even for us to hear Jesus aright, and the people in today’s Gospel who rejected Jesus had a lot less to go on than we do. All of us have times when we kind of hear the voice of Jesus and kind of stay distracted, when we want to follow the Lord yet still keep meandering. Jesus tells us, just as he told them, to hold his words and his works together, if we are to understand who he is and who we are called to be. 
     “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish,” Jesus declares of his flock. This is not only a proclamation about the life to come; it is first and foremost a promise concerning the life we share here and now. Eternal is not a description of duration. It is a measure of quality — deep, rich, mysterious, indestructible. What does that mean? How can this be in our fractured, fleeting world? We turn to the stories told by Jesus, the stories told about Jesus — full of words and works of life-giving love and life-changing mercy — and we find ourselves held steady in time by the hand of the Savior, transformed by his unending grace. “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” The Good Shepherd provides the nourishment we need, the shelter, and the companionship of the flock. No matter what evil befalls us or what wrong we do, we will never be lost to him. “What my Father has given me is greater than all else,” promises Jesus, “and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand.” 
     A week ago my old lady cat died. We called her Puffy, because in her youth she used to puff her chest out like a pigeon. Recently I crudely referred to her as the Cryptkeeper because she was nothing but fur and bones and howled like a banshee. Puff was 21 years old; her passing was not unexpected — as the vet said, “We don’t see many 20-year-old cats.”  But her death came suddenly. I was visiting a college friend in MA. Puff was just fine when I left, but the day I got home I found her lying on the living room floor in a patch of warm sunlight. She couldn’t lift her head; her eyes were sunken and opaque; she didn’t make a sound.  Puffy was waiting for me, I think, confident that I would help her now as I had cared for her over so many years. I wrapped her in my prayers and squares quilt and drove to the vet’s office. There was nothing to be done but to let her go. As they prepared the injection I stroked her head and sang to her and then talked to her about the past, Lucy, our California home, the four-footed companions who once shared it with her. And at one point she gave two soft mews, no louder than a kitten’s, and nestled her head a wee bit deeper in the quilt. I don’t have firsthand experience with sheep, but I do know what it means to care for animals, to be mindful of their safety, to give them good reason to trust me, to keep faith with them to the end. “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me,” Jesus tells us. His is the last voice we will hear as we leave this world, a familiar voice, a reliable presence. And we will follow him from death into life. Amen.