John 10:11-18
April 25, 2021
Rev. Bob Benson, in his
book, See You at the House, describes what life is like as a converted
band parent. Where it used to be that
Benson could not wait for halftime to be over so the players could take the
field, he now cannot wait for the players to leave the field and the “real
action” to begin. That’s because his
youngest son, Patrick, is now a part of the high school marching band. So band camp, band festivals, and state band
competition have all now become a part of his every day language.
What has also become a part of his
every day language are the terms used to describe the band’s performance—terms
like “closer”, or the “push”, or “blowing to the box.” Benson shares that “blowing to the box” is a
term used to describe a band which has turned its back to the crowd, playing
softly, and then, in a dramatic crescendo, turns on its heel and marches
toward the stands playing full volume.
Benson asked his son, Patrick, if he
could describe what it was like marching toward the stands, filled with
cheering fans, playing with all they had?
Could he describe what it was like, with their school colors, blue and
white, painted on their face, instruments raised to the crowd? Patrick smiled at his father as if it were
just too overwhelming to describe, an emotional and dramatic moment without
real words. Benson went on to write,
I told him that if he thought it
was exciting on the field he should just wait until a day somewhere, sometime
when he was a dad at a state championship.
And then he would see his kid turn and march toward him in perfect step
with a hundred other kids, his head high and his back straight, beating fifty
pounds of drums as if it were his task to set the tempo for the whole world. I told him if I was still around, I wanted to
be sitting there with him. And then we
can talk about what thrilling really is.[1]
Sometimes
I think we forget that the language of religious faith was never meant to be
literal and factual, but an emotional, particular, devotional, and romantic
language that struggles to relate incredible experiences of God—like a parent
sharing a thrilling moment with the child.
To our detriment, sometimes we hesitate to describe our faith with such
particular and romantic language, such animated emotion, for fear of being
thought unintelligent or simple. I think we fear using that language because we
know of others who too often we use particular, romantic, and emotional
language as if it were factual and historical.
Let me give you an example. Early Christian scholar Dominic Crossan highlights
the difference when he references the language between lovers and lifetime
partners. When my wife asks me if she is
the most beautiful woman in the world, the answer is, “Yes!” and “yes” with an
exclamation point. She is not asking me
for factual, literal data. She is asking
me for a romantic, particular statement.
My response should not be something like, “Hmmm,
there was this model I saw on the internet I found attractive. Just a moment. Let me bring that up on my phone so you can
see the model.” That is certain death or
an invitation to certain death.
Johannine theology found in the
gospel of John, like the passage we have before us today uses that romantic,
particular language to describe faith. I
would suggest that this language is what has made the gospel of John the
favorite of many people. Our hearts are
carried by such language. In the gospel
of John, such language is not only found in the sheep and the good shepherd
passage we have before us today, but also in passages like the author of the
gospel of John has Jesus say, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the loving Creator but
through me.”
This is not language meant to exclude other authentic
paths in the world. This language is
meant to help others understand my loyalties and priorities, the path that I am
walking.
If my wife says to me, “Am I the only one for you?” My answer should be a resounding, “Yes!” Not, “Well, both of us could have married about a hundred other people.” In other words, such words are not meant to be taken literally, but devotionally, romantically, particularly. The language of “I am the way, the truth, and the life” is the language of mystical devotion. It is like saying to one’s beloved, as I would say every day of my life, every minute of the day to Tracy:
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds
Or Bends with the remover to remove.
That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark,[2]
My
best Shakespeare said truly, deeply, and madly to my beloved wife. To speak in such language is to speak the
language of romance, particularity, and devotion.
It is to recognize that some of the
Bible’s language and intent is poetic.
Hasidic poet, Yehoshua November, has said, “Poetry for me is a space of
truth, a space to assess one’s life and what is meaningful to a person.” He knows a reality that is given life by the
Scripture we have before us, “God as God really is unknowable. Poets are aware of something beneath the
silence, something beneath the ordinary.”[3]
In the scripture verse from the
gospel of John today, it is to talk about a good shepherd who knows the sheep
and the sheep know the good shepherd, they know the timbre of the good
shepherd’s voice and are drawn to that voice.
The author of the gospel of John uses
the connotations of this image to ask for God’s passionate desire for unity in
community. Thieves, robbers, wolves, and
hired workers appear in this chapter of John as threats to the unity of the
sheep. The words are meant to convey a
mystical devotion, a romantic passion, meant to sound deep and full and beyond
anything we might be able to say literally.
I think we have lost something when
we are not able or willing to talk about our faith romantically, passionately,
and particularly. We do not have to be
certain about our faith to speak in such a way—just moved. We do not have to lose our brains to
experience intimacy with God but we do need to be consciously seeking to deepen
our relationship with God and recognize our need for transcendence when so many
individual narratives care only about profit and gain, their salvation as the
world burns. And I would offer that the
tradition of John’s gospel suggests that we cannot be moved, deepen our
relationship with God alone, but in holy communion with one another.
If Jesus is the good shepherd or the way, the truth,
and the life alone, then we will not be moved by narratives of hate and
violence and racism which say, “Well, that’s your point of view. Jesus would want me to have a gun, defend me
from my Black, Native, or immigrant neighbor, and kiss the world goodbye because
I have been saved.” I say, my devotion
to my good shepherd tells me that the way is the way of confrontational
non-violence. I say, my loyalty to my
good shepherd tells me that the truth is to love my neighbor and grant
hospitality to the stranger. I say, my
devotion to my good shepherd tells me that the life is one of seeing beauty in
the lilies of the field, the organizing of a mustard seed, and the love the
Creator has for this good earth. The
life, found elsewhere in the gospel of John, is that this God so loves the
world and wants to save the world.
For I believe that though we may not be able to use romantic, devotional, and particular language to describe God, our Creator uses romantic, devotional, and particular language to describe us. To know that is to know a God who is not a removed law-giver or judge.
As Rev. Bob Benson relates, it makes
all the difference in the world where we think God is sitting while the band is
playing. Most of us still think of God
as the one on the field or the pressbox looking for smudges on our shoes,
listening for the misplayed note, checking to see if we are in lock step with
everyone else during a performance. Benson
believes, as I do, that God is the one in the stands who is thrilled when we
“blow to the box”—standing on the bleachers, waving a coat in a circle
overhead, with tears of pride and joy running down God’s face. God romantically, passionately, devotionally,
intimately, particularly loves us.
Beyond any word God make speak to us, we are loved. We are loved.
This is the incredible gift St. John’s
United Church of Christ has given to me since September of 2020. You prayed for and cared for my family, you
reminded me to stay home if the weather was too bad, you bought me or provided food
for me or even ice cubes, you gave me a hard time about the Fighting Illini or
offered a listening ear, you sent me cards, made sure I got my checks,
dialogued with me, thanked me for my work, you took chances of what it might
mean to risk, being a Magi or Mary, Coyote Thunder or some other Biblical
character, or just to risk something new.
And probably most important to me, what I experienced aas full love was
you worked alongside of me to figure out the technology or music or ministry, participated
in the offerings I put before the church, you showed up, and dreamed of what
God might be doing, hand in hand, with St. John’s United Church of Christ,
Jackson, Michigan, and the world. You
rooted for me as I root for you.
My most fervent hope and prayer is
that you will offer that same kind of love and support for the Rev. Judy
Goodrow as she begins her ministry with you.
As you do that, I hope you know that as you pivot to “blow to the box”
there will always be someone standing in divine love in Sawyer, Michigan, who
has taken his Illini jacket off and is whipping it in the air in celebration
and love for you as you join with God and Rev. Goodrow to make beautiful music
together.
Thank you for the way that you have
loved me in these eight months. I pray
that Rev. Goodrow might know that love.
May it be so. May it be so. Amen.
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