The
Old South Church in Boston
Just Whom Do We Follow?
Sermon
by James W. Crawford
John 10:1-10*
May 5, 2001
John’s messianic Jesus movement finds itself in
mortal danger. They have been kicked out of the synagogue. Judaism, struggling
to stay alive under Roman domination and oppression, can no longer house the
diversity of Messianic movements surfacing throughout the Empire. In order to
stay alive Judaism must put an end to these small charismatic movements always
making some ridiculous Messianic claim.
And this Jesus movement is the craziest of all. This Jesus movement seems to go about everything inside-out and upside-down. They actually claim a convicted felon as Messiah. They place their hope in the most hopeless and pathetic of figures: a criminal executed on a Cross, a blasphemer, a heretic, a religious charlatan, a national rebel. This a Messiah? This? Christ? No Way! There is no room for such a sect in such stressful times, no place in the synagogue for this tiny network of charismatic gatherings threatening to dissipate even more severely a people licking their wounds from Roman hostility, and wondering if their ethnic identity, not to mention their religion, possesses a future. This subversive Jesus movement must be eradicated. Judaism must be saved from this radical Jewish minority who incredibly —and wrongly— perceive an executed criminal as the bearer of Divine promises granted to Israel.
Virtually kicked out in the street, what should John’s congregations do? How respond to this exile by their brothers and sisters? How interpret themselves now that they have been labeled religious traitors and frauds? Well, they compose a narrative. They tell a story in this Gospel of John, reflecting the poles of their conflict. And like all polemics generated in family fights, this one holds no prisoners. Each side at full volume shouts, “We are right. You are wrong.” It is an in-house struggle among Jews, both sides making ultimate truth claims. When John puts on the lips of Jesus the words, “I am the good shepherd,” John means his religious adversaries are bad shepherds. When John asserts, in the words of Jesus, “I am the voice of the one you should follow,” John means all other voices are impostors and lead to dead ends. This religious conflict shaping the Gospel of John is no small friendly dialog. It pits wings of the same party against one another. It faces off two frail religious bodies, siblings in the faith as a matter of fact, born of the same parents, desperately fighting for continued existence, wrestling just to hang on by their fingernails.
Today, almost exactly two thousand years later, we see these two religious bodies made it. Judaism, in its many forms, thank the Providence of God, still flourishes. And that movement begun in the synagogue, grounded in Judaism, confessing that crucified criminal as Messiah, thank the Providence of God, even yet in its many forms, continues to sustain millions. These siblings in the faith still struggle in parts of our world; they make their truth claims and in some cases fiercely compete for power and prestige, but the assumption that one cannot coexist with the other, is, in many cases, no longer one that prevails.
I
But the issue at stake does, in other ways, still haunt us. Just whom shall we follow? What does it mean to hear and follow the voice of One who speaks of being the Good Shepherd? Just what does it mean to follow the One who leads through a well-defined gate, finally, to life—yes, abundant life?
I think it means, in the first place, making a dramatic, life-changing choice. I think falling in behind the Good Shepherd, as John defines it, can alter, inspire, and induce an unsuspected radiance in your life and mine.
Indeed, I witnessed it just this last week. Some of you here will recognize the name of Cory Kent. Cory Kent was a member of this congregation; indeed, a member of our federated sister congregation, The Mount Vernon Church. Cory Kent’s father worked for Mount Vernon years ago. He died in Mount Vernon’s employ and this congregation, Mount Vernon’s congregation, helped to support Cory from then to this day. Cory lived in Marshfield and he died there last week at age 65 of pancreatic cancer. Cory attended the Methodist Church in Marshfield and although he never really left this church, on Wednesday the Marshfield congregation gathered for his memorial service.
For the last two and a half or three years Cory Kent rode the bus from Marshfield to Quincy and then the Red and Green Lines to Old South. He served as an eager volunteer in this house. David Clark, our sexton, Elisa Blanchard and Helen McCrady, our fantastic administrators, worked out a plan for Cory twice a week. He assembled the bulletins we so casually leaf through each week. He cleaned the Gordon House offices. He folded, stamped and assembled the Calendar each month. In heavy rain, in blizzard conditions, in sweltering heat Cory Kent roamed this building puttering, spreading good cheer, lending an enthusiasm and seriousness to his various cleaning and administrative chores, encouraging and supporting us all. His work here he described as gratefully giving back what he received from this congregation.
Now you have to know that Cory suffered from cerebral palsy and for years from what most of us called “mental retardation,” now, perhaps more appropriately what we refer to as being mentally challenged. You must know as well, he loved Jesus Christ and the church. The memorial service this last week made reference to these two components of Cory’s identity. His minister, in a personal reflection on Cory’s life, used as a text Paul’s reference to his “thorn in the flesh”—a physical disability, a handicap, an impediment a frustrated Paul continually complained and prayed about, begging God to grant him relief. We do not know the exact nature of Paul’s “thorn in the flesh,” but we do know the answer he received: “My grace is sufficient for you.”
For Cory Kent God’s grace was more than sufficient. Cory possessed the unique gift of extricating himself from himself and observing himself from the outside. He was thoroughly cognizant of his “thorn in the flesh” and the limitations it placed on him, but he treated them as irrelevant. He recognized and assumed the fullness of his own humanity. He expressed without apology the richness and variety of his gifts. For instance, he wrote every governor of the United States urging legislation supporting the mentally and physically challenged. He spoke to civic groups, he served as liturgist and preacher in the Marshfield Methodist church, he coined aphorisms dealing with courage and the fair and gracious treatment of others. And yes, he corresponded with the sovereigns of the world. Indeed, there, in front of the Marshfield nave on a poster board, among a number of news articles describing Cory’s public advocacies, a picture of Bill Clinton in the middle, we could read Cory’s intense correspondence with the high and mighty. And if you will excuse me, I will read a response to one of his letters:
Buckingham
Palace
Dear Mr. Kent,
I am commanded by the Queen
to write and thank you for your letter and for the folder of information and
cuttings you sent for her majesty to see.
Although the Queen is
unable to accept your invitation to visit your new workshop for mentally handicapped adults, the Queen thought it was
kind of you to invite her and was interested to know of the good work that is
being done at Marshfield.
I am to thank you again for writing,
Yours
sincerely,
Mary
Feniken, Lady-in-waiting.
Write the Queen of England? Of course! We know we stood in the presence of a prince.
Now why this story? Because Cory Kent self-consciously tried to model his life after Christ’s. Amid everything else, an ebullient, upbeat, very funny, very wise, Cory Kent heard God’s promise to Paul: “My grace is sufficient for you.” And yes, he followed that voice—the voice, really, of the Good Shepherd and discovered life, indeed as the Good Shepherd promises, life abundantly. It is there for us, too.
II
But this promise of abundant life as a consequence of choosing to follow the Good Shepherd bears larger implications as well. When the Bible makes reference to shepherds and their leadership, it draws images of civic and national priorities. It reminds us that public and political leaders, like King David, are known as “shepherds” of their people.
To follow this Shepherd means a communal commitment; it implies covenant and companionship, mutuality and cooperation. To follow this Good Shepherd suggests mercy and peace; it entails equity and forgiveness. It offers an image of public concern, economic vision and political engagement.
And thus, one wonders, if we listened for the voice of Jesus and followed him, how would we approach a state or a nation sanctioning what we call a death penalty? Or, if we walked behind the Good Shepherd, how would we think and what might we do with a tax surplus of 1.6 trillion dollars over ten years, when we know our school buildings in many of our urban centers and rural outposts are crumbling; when teachers are paid at the low end of the spectrum; when day care is in such desperate need by poor moms sent to work almost with a vengeance; when AIDS vaccines and cocktails, not to mention sex education, might bring some alleviation to the scourge sweeping Africa and South East Asia; while so many of our own congregation walk this very morning to call attention to and to alleviate hunger? Really? Hunger in a nation with a 1.6 trillion dollar surplus? My soul, if we heard the Shepherd’s voice would Massachusetts rank number 50—number 50—among the states in its philanthropic giving to churches and other non profit agencies while ranking fourth—fourth—in per capita income?
If we profess this Jesus to be the Christ, if we, with John’s church, look to Jesus as the Good Shepherd, then it seems to me we prepare ourselves to listen for our Shepherd’s voice making its distinct invitation, drawing us to choices apart and different from the choices of that cacophony of voices wheedling, coaxing, teasing, appealing to us and promising us abundant life, life usually running into frustration, dead ends, illusion. We ready ourselves for the voice inviting us to risk our selves, our love, our compassion and our treasure, offering abundant life to others, gaining it miraculously ourselves.
Perhaps John Ernest Bode sums it up for us best. He wrote scores of hymns in the 19th century. We sing just one of them today. And if I may paraphrase him:
O Jesus you have promised to all who follow you
that where you are in glory your servant shall be, too;
And Jesus I have promised to serve you to the end;
O give me grace to follow, my savior,
my shepherd and my friend.
SCRIPTURE READING
John 10:1-10
“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.
The Old South Church in
Boston
645 Boylston Street
Boston, MA 02116
(617) 536-1970