John 10:11-18

It seems as if the phone here at church has been ringing off the hook this week. I’m not sure why, but as soon as I get engrossed in something in my study, the ringing starts. Luckily, now that Plucky Admin is here, some phone calls I don’t have to get involved with, but about half of them, she puts through (the advantage of having such a nifty phone system here at church.)

One call in particular the week before last is one I remember because the voice on the other end was one I hadn’t heard in the context of my church study before. Even though this person is one whose voice I had heard hundreds of times, never had I heard it sitting in that chair, at that desk, surrounded by those books, coffee mugs, candles, and papers. I was thrown for a moment, the way a child is when they see the teacher out of context—at the grocery store, for example. Things were just off kilter there for a minute. The person on the other end of the phone connection, to whom the familiar voice belonged, acknowledged the bizarreness of the situation, and said, “I didn’t know what to call you there for a minute. I think I referred to you as ‘Pastor Cheesehead's-First-Name’ which are words that have never, ever passed my lips before.” We both had a good chuckle over that.

I’m always taken aback when someone asks me how they should address me. Being called “Pastor Cheesehead's-First-Name” has taken some getting used to. There are a few exceptions—like my friend who was caught off guard—but usually, when someone with an unfamiliar voice, or a voice out of context starts the conversation like that they are trying to sell something to either the church or me. Most of the time, I just want to be called by my name. "We’ll sort out what is it I do for a living later," I think to myself. "Just refer to me as who I am, not what I do."

This familiar metaphor that Jesus uses to describe himself in the John passage fits quite nicely with the Psalm, doesn’t it? Years ago, I heard a story about a seminary intern who preached this particular lectionary week by essentially giving a lecture on sheep. I don’t remember what else was said that was spiritually significant about that sermon, but the people left knowing a whole lot about sheep.

Well, I don’t know much about sheep, or about shepherds, for that matter, so I needed to go to my sources. It turns out that sheep are just not very bright. Apparently they can’t distinguish voices either. This means that for sheep, the voice of one shepherd and the voice of another shepherd—or a complete stranger—sound pretty much the same. Imagine if there were several flocks of sheep all in one place, with all the different shepherds trying to tell them what to do. Now imagine that you are just one of those sheep, trying to interpret what it was you were supposed to do in such a circumstance. I imagine that for the sheep it would get pretty confusing. If sheep cannot be counted on to recognize the shepherd, exactly how are sheep taken care of?

There is another character in Jesus’ allegory, the hired hand. The hired hand is certainly with the sheep, but is not fully invested in the successful herding of them. The hired hand is there to do a job, and to collect a check at the end of the job. The hired hand is then free to move on to other sheep, other shepherds. The trouble is, the hired hand has a voice, too, and will use it. But the hired hand is not up for the hard stuff, nor in it for the long haul.

Think of all the voices we hear in our lives. Think again about all the implied voices, those of our culture, which speak to us in cacophony of whispers.
Pssst:
 “The one who dies with the most toys wins.”

 “You can never be too rich or too thin.”

 “Life is short: play hard to win.”

 “So you cheated a little on your taxes—everybody does it. I mean, c’mon, why give all that money to a corrupt government? They’ll just spend it all on gun and bombs. Or on trips to Hawaii for themselves and their friends.”

 “You want to give to charity again? Why can’t the poor just go out and get jobs like everybody else? You worked hard for your money. It’s not your fault there is genocide in Darfur. You can’t solve all the world’s problems. But that new car sure would make you happy.”

 “If you don’t get caught, it’s not really like doing anything bad.”

 “Stop feeling bad about working the system. Everybody does it.”

 “You know you want to…”

Then there are the voices that come from deep within ourselves, those voices that speak from our woundedness, our broken spirits:

Pssst:
 “There is absolutely no way you are qualified to do that. Don’t even try.”

 “What will happen when the whole world finds out you are a phony?”

 “Just who do you think you are?”

 “You’re nothing special, you know. If you disappeared today, the world would just keep on turning.”

 “Made in God’s image, my eye…”

 ‘Don’t reach out for help. Do you want to appear weak?”

 “If you can manage to make yourself invisible, you will not risk getting hurt.”

These are not the voices of the One who said, “I know my own and my own know me. I came to lay down my life of my own accord.” Those voices call out to us from what we do, not who we are, or Whose we are. Those voices equate greed and acquisition with success, and missteps and lost confidence with utter and complete failure. Those voices will lie to us, because they are not fully invested in us. They are mere hirelings.

It is a tough pill to swallow, this notion that even our own voices are not fully truthful all the time. But it is part of what makes us creature, and not Creator. In this sense, we are sheep, not Shepherd. And so the voices come at us, day after day.

So then, if we are bombarded by voices that will lie to us, and as sheep we’re not fully able to distinguish one voice from another, (as sheep farmers will tell us), what then are we to do with this notion of a Good Shepherd?

The solution for this problem, sisters and brothers, lies not in us, but in our Creator, our Shepherd, that One who knew us before we could know ourselves. The flock is never in charge; the shepherd always is. When we cannot know which voices are true, which voices are genuine, when we are hearing the voices that would lead us astray—in those cacophonous, confusing, chaotic moments—we are inexplicable known.

To be known by God is so much more than to have somebody know the basic facts about our existence. To be known as the sheep of Christ’s fold is to be accepted despite the voices we may have listened to in the past, despite the destructive false messages we have sent ourselves in our own misguided, tremulous voices of pain and brokenness. It is to be constantly guided anew—even in the context of the noisy worldly voices—towards that full reality: We are known by God!

In his allegory of sheep and Shepherd, Jesus is distinguishing himself from the voices of greed, self-centeredness, self-loathing and shame. Jesus is proclaiming something important about both his identity and ours. He is going on record with the proclamation that he has come, not to add his voice to the voices of culture and power, but that his is the voice of Grace, of God’s profound love, and of welcome. That would be word enough, brothers and sisters. But he says even more than that. Jesus proclaims that our voices of pain, brokenness, and longing will never go unheard by God. Even when we cannot separate the voices to know which is genuine, even then, God hears God’s own. For every voice of agony that cries out, God’s voice of redeeming love overpowers.

It may not happen in an instant. Grace that comes with so high a price is no magic pill. The voices we have become accustomed to hearing will probably not suddenly quiet overnight. Redeeming Love does not render our worldly condition moot; rather, it gives it purpose. Those of us who have been shown that the shouts of culture and power, the whispers of self-doubt are mere lies, are transformed into co-conspirators of the truth. When we begin to allow the truth of God’s amazing love—of God’s knowing of us—to transform the voices of shame into proclamations of our own worth as God’s beloved child, our response of praise then is to claim that truth and share it.

“I am the Good Shepherd.
I know my own and my own know me.
And I lay down my life for the sheep."

Thanks be to God!