Showing posts with label Good Shepherd. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Good Shepherd. Show all posts

Sunday, May 11, 2025

Oh, good shepherd


No one can snatch them out of my hand.

“Can anything separate us from the love of Christ? Can trouble, pain or persecution? Can lack of clothes and food, danger to life and limb, the threat of force of arms? Indeed some of us know the truth of the ancient text: ‘For your sake we are killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter’. No, in all these things we win an overwhelming victory through him who has proved his love for us.” Romans 8:35-37


When a group of clergy went to Israel in January 2015, our plane from Newark landed at Ben Gurion airport near Lod (Lydda)  and 12 days later when we left the holy land we stopped at a beach at Jaffa (Joppa). Maps tell me they are 20 km apart, ten to twelve miles, four and a half hours on foot. When Peter traveled from Lod to Joppa, that is the journey he made. Centuries later, we would visit both places, now transformed.


In between those two end stops of our pilgrimage, we went to Bethlehem — to La Crèche de Bethléem— a ministry of some French speaking nuns, but the sister who spoke with us was not French. She was from Lod. Her village used to be where the airport is now. 


Now she takes care of Palestinian teenage mothers and their children. It’s not safe to be a single mother in a Palestinian traditional village. Shame attaches to you and danger. 


So these nuns quietly bring the pregnant girls to their facility in Bethlehem, where they take care of them until they give birth, and then raise the children until they reach an age at which they can go to a residential school. But the kids, when they grow up, do not forget the first mothers they knew— the nuns of Bethlehem. 


In French, interpreted by the dean of Montreal Cathedral, the nun told us a story of one 18 year-old who returned to visit with his first paycheck, which he proudly signed over to them— his entire first paycheck check—  then, being a kid, their kid, he asked for bus fare for a ride home.


Many examples of works of mercy, and acts of charity, can be found among the church today. And Christians are noted, now as in the first century, for their love for one another, and for their undiscriminating care for people regardless of their faith confession.


In the bombed out ruins of what were once hospitals medical workers still care for patients, as at Al Ahli Arab Hospital in Gaza, a ministry of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem – “that provides care to all in need, regardless of religion, political affiliation, or ability to pay.”


In border areas volunteers provide hospitality for total strangers, as at Casa de la Misericordia y de Todas las Naciones and Kino Border Initiative in Nogales.  


Christians from the early years of the Gospel recognized Christ in all comers, recognized the face of God in each human person, and served all. Many serve in ministries outside church walls. Others, like Dorcas in Lydda, have clothed the needy inside them. It is probable that the women who mourned at her deathbed were wearing the very garments Tabitha herself had made for them. 

In his commentary on the gospel of John, the missionary bishop Lesslie Newbigin reminds us we are called for a purpose: as disciples we are called to witness to the light, to new life and love in Christ.

Dorcas and the community at Joppa remind us we are all called to witness to the resurrection. And to what it means. In Jesus is life. And this life is the light of all.

Peter was in Lydda, inland but not far away, and he responded immediately to the need, when two men came to him, telling him that the beloved disciple Dorcas (Tabitha)  had become ill and died. 

Dorcas herself was known for her works of mercy, good works and acts of charity – and for the clothing she had made. The community was so tight knit around her that the widows who were weeping brought with them and showed to the apostle tunics and other clothing that when she was with them Dorcas had made. One of our own was Dorcas, and the loss was hard. 

The story of Dorcas - Tabitha - echoes the words Jesus spoke -  ‘talitha cum’ - little girl, arise - when he raised a girl, fourteen years old, from her deathbed. 

And echoes what Jesus said when he had come to the tomb of his friend: “Lazarus, come out!” 

Here in the endearing and detailed story of Dorcas we hear all the details of the mourning, and of the miracle. He prayed, called her – “Tabitha, arise” – and she sat up. 

Besides these several parallel stories, there is also Peter’s response. This is the man who at the beginning of his ministry – and Jesus’ - saw Jesus heal his mother-in-law. And now another woman of merit is ill: he responds immediately. 

We are called for a purpose: to witness, to the miracle of Jesus, of resurrection, of him and through him. All these stories, new and old, point to the lordship of Christ over all of life.

We are called for a purpose, not a status: we have no laurels to rest upon, only hands to serve. Become what you are, what you are called to be: it can happen, it has happened, in Christ.

In the Temple they challenged Jesus: If you are the Messiah, show us plainly. 

And he had, by his works of mercy. And he did, even more so and again, in the works of his disciples, like Peter, and like Dorcas. For Dorcas in her works of love made a witness of love, and the community of love that gathered around her continued that witness. 

In showing that love Dorcas - and the disciples who mourned her - revealed the love of Christ that animated them. 

That same loving God who restored her to life is the God shown in the self-giving love of the Son, and the love of the members of his community one for another.

To show us plainly that in Christ the Love of God came to earth, Christians obey his new commandment, to love one another as he has loved us: “Just as I have loved you, so you must love one another. This is how everyone will know that you are my disciples, because you have such love for one another.” John 13:34-35

For this fourth Sunday of Easter season I am particularly glad to sing Hymn 645 ‘The King of love my shepherd is’ – for we like sheep oft have gone astray, and oft return, called back to our true path, by the voice of a loving savior. That voice can also be stern. But the rod and staff that the owner of that voice wield are wielded on our behalf. 

As the Apostle Paul wrote: “ I have become absolutely convinced that neither death nor life, neither messenger of Heaven nor monarch of earth, neither what happens today nor what may happen tomorrow, neither a power from on high nor a power from below, nor anything else in God’s whole world has any power to separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord!” Romans 8:38-39




The 23rd Psalm (Dedicated To My Mother) Bobby McFerrin

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJixdpZ5m1o


Oh, good shepherd, feed my sheep... (https://youtu.be/6JfvuEJSKEU)

 

Fourth Sunday of Easter

Sunday 11 May 2025

https://sermonoats.blogspot.com/search/label/Good%20Shepherd

© 2025 John Leech

Acts 9:36-43

Now there was at Joppa a certain disciple named Tabitha, which by interpretation is called Dorcas: this woman was full of good works and almsdeeds which she did.
And it came to pass in those days, that she was sick, and died: whom when they had washed, they laid her in an upper chamber.
And forasmuch as Lydda was nigh to Joppa, and the disciples had heard that Peter was there, they sent unto him two men, desiring him that he would not delay to come to them.
Then Peter arose and went with them. When he was come, they brought him into the upper chamber: and all the widows stood by him weeping, and shewing the coats and garments which Dorcas made, while she was with them.
But Peter put them all forth, and kneeled down, and prayed; and turning him to the body said, Tabitha, arise. And she opened her eyes: and when she saw Peter, she sat up.
And he gave her his hand, and lifted her up, and when he had called the saints and widows, presented her alive.
And it was known throughout all Joppa; and many believed in the Lord.
And it came to pass, that he tarried many days in Joppa with one Simon a tanner.

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Revelation 7:9-17

After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands;
And cried with a loud voice, saying, Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb.
And all the angels stood round about the throne, and about the elders and the four beasts, and fell before the throne on their faces, and worshipped God,
Saying, Amen: Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour, and power, and might, be unto our God for ever and ever. Amen.
And one of the elders answered, saying unto me, What are these which are arrayed in white robes? and whence came they?
And I said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said to me, These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple: and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them.
They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat.
For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.

John 10:22-30

And it was at Jerusalem the feast of the dedication, and it was winter.
And Jesus walked in the temple in Solomon’s porch.
Then came the Jews round about him, and said unto him, How long dost thou make us to doubt? If thou be the Christ, tell us plainly.
Jesus answered them, I told you, and ye believed not: the works that I do in my Father’s name, they bear witness of me.
But ye believe not, because ye are not of my sheep, as I said unto you.
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me:
And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.
My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand.
I and my Father are one.


Saturday, May 2, 2020

On the Machair

Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. (Acts 2:42)

All the devotions my bishop requested of me while I was under his care before ordination was to say the daily office, morning prayer and either evening prayer or compline. It's not just the law (in England); it's a good idea (everywhere). Years later when I came under the guidance (once again) of the prior of the Hermitage, he and I discussed the basics of associate membership (amici, y'all, is the preferred style in Italia). Daily prayer, weekly Eucharist, annual retreat. You are already doing it.

And of course you pray for me and I'll pray for you. As we say to each other when we say farewell.

Yes, I will, Robert, and I know you do; you always have.

Which brings us to the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples, when they asked. It was simple. Not long or elaborate or particularly showy, just the basics. 

Praise, putting ourselves in right place in the universe: you are hallowed, and may you be hallowed - here as in the eternity; that is in practice as well as in the immovable verity of God's existence. 

May we bring with you the reality of that kingdom into practical realization, and act in accordance with thy will, in all our being, our doing, our lives, public and private. 

Sustain us today; it's up to you: we rely on your providence. And we ask for it. We do not demand it as right nor forget that we are the children of thy favor. As are all beings. (We are all on that hazelnut together, in the palm of your hand.) 

We have done wrong, been wrong, gone wrong; you can redeem it, as we can redeem our own unworthy attitudes and extend the grace you have shown us to our dealings with others. Save us from the time of trial and temptation, of giving up and doing ill, and pull us out of the pit we dug ourselves. 

It is all yours; that we said in the beginning we say again: and what was in the beginning is in the last what lasts. Omega and alpha: the God who gathers us to himself is the God who has sustained us is the God who is redeeming us and making us well, all to be well, as he is the God who made us in the first place.

So we turn to him, him who is without gender, beginning or end: we unworthy worthily redeemed, created, sustained. Platitudes and all.

And beyond, that fearsome truth: he lives.



Psalm 23    Dominus regit me

The LORD is my shepherd; *
    therefore can I lack nothing.
He shall feed me in a green pasture, *
    and lead me forth beside the waters of comfort.
He shall convert my soul, *
    and bring me forth in the paths of righteousness for his
                                Name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; *
    for thou art with me;
    thy rod and thy staff comfort me.
Thou shalt prepare a table before me in the presence of them
                                that trouble me; *
    thou hast anointed my head with oil,
    and my cup shall be full.
Surely thy loving-kindness and mercy shall follow me all the
                                days of my life; *
    and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.



And he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth. (Isaiah 53:9, KJV)

He himself who was the shepherd - who is the shepherd - bore the pain of sacrificial self-giving, for us.

On the Machair, the open grassy seaside sloping ground on the west side of the isle of Iona, sheep safely graze. Most of the time. They have to watch out for airplanes, using their pasture as an airstrip, and they have to look out for flying golf balls. But they do have the fold, the (in this case) concrete - or stone - enclosure where they can gather and be gathered, safely. Other than that they graze.

O Good Shepherd ...

https://www.tripadvisor.com/LocationPhotoDirectLink-g186581-d191342-i103952809-Machair-Isle_of_Iona_The_Hebrides_Scotland.html ("Take a swing at your ball, but try not to hit the grazing sheep...")



the end and the beginning

At the end of that rather odd film Jesus Christ Superstar there is an image of a shepherd in the sunrise leading his sheep across a hill. I thought that was a good image of the resurrection - as far as it goes.

At the beginning of a film about Jesus that I'd make, either under Paul Verhoeven's tutelage or on my own, I'd have a similar image... though not first. The film would be The Transmigration of Timothy Archer, based on the novel by Philip K. Dick, a go-to author for Paul Verhoeven. And the very first image would be from the life and death of James Pike:

As I understand it, he went into the Judean desert, alone, in a rental car, looking for some answers about the premature death of his son. And his body was found there....

So the first image as the dawn enlightens would be dark, then sound: the radio in a car. Then the light comes up and we see the car at the bottom of a shallow desert wash, the right door open in the gray dawn. The radio is playing.

And over the car, above, on the crest of the bank above the wash, is the shepherd. That is how I would start.

The end, and the beginning. Rest in peace, Jim.

Friday, March 20, 2020

Never since the world began

"For ye were sometimes darkness..."
The Man Born Blind - Duccio 1308-11
http://edgeofenclosure.org/lent4a.html




There is a pretty bad movie, starring Robert Downey Jr and Meg Ryan, called "Restoration", that despite its awful contrivances still intrigues me. Not because of its picturesque frivolities but because of its actually serious topic. "Restoration" is set during the period of the restoration of the English monarchy after the Interregnum under Parliament and Oliver Cromwell the Protector. (The time is the 1660s of our era.)

So there is a reaction against the constraints of a Puritan dictatorship not only in politics but in morals. (For a more balanced and thorough personal account of these changes, read the diaries of Samuel Pepys - or listen, as I did, to Kenneth Brannagh reading portions.)

The hero, if we can call him that, of the film, is the King's new Physician, a fool, as we meet him, who quickly gets himself into trouble as he trivializes himself and the already frivolous life of court.

But then plague strikes. And all becomes more serious than he can handle......

And in some sense he finds redemption - a restoration to himself, if you will - as he begins to serve people who need him: a physician after all.

He finds his calling in horrendous times.

No one wants them.

Cue Gandalf talking to Frodo: 
Frodo: ... I wish none of this had happened. 
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.

Did God ever choose such times? Well, yes, in a sense. Look at the times into which he sent his Son.

If ever the world needed a Shepherd, a light-bearer, it was then (and always now). Imperial occupation, corrupt quislings leading the people, abject poverty, ongoing contagion, - it was time.

Perhaps it is always time. Time for a Shepherd. Time to bear light into the world.

And so the light comes into the world. It does not only come once, but for all. All people, all times.


So often when we visit somebody in hospital, there are some old words that hold comfort and meaning. The 23rd Psalm, and the Lord's Prayer. This is not hiding. This is facing the light.

Here they are as they appear in the "new" Prayer Book of 1662, the time of the Restoration.

PSAL. 23. Dominus regit me. The Lord is my ſhepherd: therefore can I lack nothing. 2 He ſhall feed me in a green paſture: and lead me forth beſide the waters of comfort. 3 He ſhall convert my ſoul: and bring me forth in the paths of righteouſneſs, for his Name’s ſake. 4 Yea, thou I walk through the valley of the ſhadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy ſtaff comfort me. 5 Thou ſhalt prepare a table before me againſt them that trouble me: thou haſt anointed my head with oil, and my cup ſhall be full. 6 But thy loving-kindneſs and mercy ſhall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the houſe of the Lord for ever.


Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven: Give us this day our daily bread; And forgive us our treſpaſſes, as we forgive them that treſpaſs againſt us; And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil. Amen. 

We too might long for a 'restoration' of times before. What we face instead are new times. What we carry forward from the past is - not nostalgia - but resources that last: Word, sacrament, prayer, fellowship; with these to sustain us, we carry forward the light that is always with us.


What we carry forward is also vision - a vision, a longing, for how things can be - and indeed what the blind man saw, and what disturbed the universe, was something new: not since the world began had a man born blind received his sight. This is not restoration; this is new.


Light has entered the world, as it has since the first dawning, as it did this morning. And as it always does it is old and it is new. We have not chosen our times; we choose how to live them.






Saturday, January 16, 2010

Legh Kennerley Priest (July 23, 1912 - December 18, 2009)

Christ our good shepherd be with us today as we celebrate the life of Legh Priest. Help us cherish the memories and hear our thanks for your walk with here. For you walk with each of us all our days - from before we are born until after we die.

Some of our lives have many chapters, some few: but whether the volume is thick or thin, you are there on every page.

When the family were younger they lived near here on a few acres, and there were, indeed, sheep.

Are we like sheep? We do stray, we do depend on our shepherd for leading us to the gifts of life.

Jesus our shepherd walks out with us, into the green pastures, stays with us, and sees us safely home. This is the good news in a nutshell: that Jesus came to humankind, comes to us, to lead us through life - and by his sacrificial offering of himself, laying down his life for us, and by his calling of us to be his people, he cares for us, nurtures us, sustains us, redeems us.

When we stumble or fall into the shadow, when we make wrong turnings or choices, he brings us back - he sets us on the right path; when we are threatened - when the safe place he made for us is in danger - he comes to protect us.

Whether the folly is inside ourselves or out, he is there - his rod and his staff, they comfort, they correct, they protect, and they guide.

We celebrate the good long life of Legh Priest today: in the presence of God and one another let us remember her with joy, with gladness, and with hope - as Christ welcomes home one of his own.

Good Shepherd, be our guide, be our comfort.

Good Lord Jesus, in your name is all our praise.

Amen.

JRL+

Thanksgiving and Celebration for the life of Legh Kennerley Priest (July 23, 1912 - December 18, 2009)
St Alban's Episcopal Church, Edmonds, Wash., January 16, 2010 - 2:00 PM

+

Hymn 405 - All things bright and beautiful
Hymn 397 - Now thank we all our God
Hymn 383 - Fairest Lord Jesus
Hymn 470 - There's a wideness in God's mercy

+

Sunday, April 13, 2008

plaid sheep

In the name of God, merciful Father, compassionate Son, Spirit of wisdom. Amen.

When she was a freshman in college Margaret had a poster in her dorm room, of a herd of sheep. They weren’t ordinary white or black sheep: they were colored like Benetton fabrics, in wild bright solid colors, and polka dots, and stripes, and plaid. They were a little like us, all different, some of our patterns dyed in the wool. And they were like us, too, in that underneath those colors they were all the same – and all, if their wool were washed, would be as white as spring lambs.

Last week (Tartan Day) some of us at the 10:30 celebration wore tartans – symbols of clan or family or country or state, of some affiliation: a sign of a source of identity. Not everybody got the word, and not everybody has a tartan.

Of course you could just wear plaid.

But coming up is a celebration we all have a part in, and have an identity in: at the Table of the Lord, we break one bread, as we are one body, and we bring to that table all that we are and have.

We offer the gifts of our life and labor to the Lord, each of us from our own particularity, our own special gifts and identities – tartans included – as we come together around the one table to celebrate in the presence of the one who is Lord.

And even before that, earlier in the service, we will affirm our common faith in the words of the creed, just as we do on baptismal Sundays – including Pentecost, All Saints, and the Baptism of our Lord – and the Easter Vigil. For as different as we are, we are one in the Lord, and we share one Lord, one faith, and one baptism.

At baptism we don a simpler garment than our everyday patterns and plaids – we wear a simple white garment, the alb – which symbolizes our common heritage in Christ, our washing white as snow in the waters of baptism. The alb symbolizes baptism – and resurrection. This garment, blending all the colors of the rainbow, shows our true nature:

All of us are baptized into the Lord Jesus Christ. For each and all of us that is our first identity. We belong to God.

Christ is our Savior, our guide, and our shepherd: he leads us, calling us by name, by the waters of baptism. He is the one who knows us best of all. To understand this true identity let us revisit the waters of baptism.

Let me take you on a journey down to a river. Sit comfortably, close your eyes, and imagine yourself at the banks of the river Jordan. Jesus has been baptized, and so have you.

You have been baptized with him, and in him; into his life, his death, his resurrection and ascension. And so when you hear these words – that you are about to hear – you know the Lord means Jesus, and, because Jesus is your Savior, he means you as well.

Hear then, these words, as you are baptized into Christ and live in his Name:

You are my beloved; in you I am well pleased.

Listen to these words: breathe in and out, repeating them like a quiet prayer.

You are my beloved; in you I am well pleased.

Remember them, and remember that you are one of Christ’s own, and he is with you.

You are my beloved; in you I am well pleased.

We are at the river, at the shore. The current is flowing by: gently and softly in places, still and sweet; in others, it is frothy and turbulent, and strong. And yet beside you stands the Shepherd, braced in the living water, ready to guard you, ready to guide you. The waters of baptism are living waters, flowing with life, refreshing you, and carrying you along. Where will they take you next?

Wherever you go, wherever the current of the living water carries you, Christ Jesus is always beside you seeing you through.

Even if you should walk through the valley of the shadow of death, the Good Shepherd is with you, his rod to defend you, his staff to guide you – and he will lead you beside quiet waters and tranquil shorelines, to the pastures of abundant life.

Imagine yourself walking down into the river, immersing your self. When you are baptized the waters close over you like a symbol of death – but as you are lifted out of the water, as you are raised, you begin to breathe in the new life, you begin to see in the new day.

You begin to live in the light of the life of the lord, in the Lord’s Day, in his world.

What will this look like to us here in Edmonds? What will it look like to you?

As you begin the new Day, the Day the Lord has made, today – as we make Eucharist together and then go forth in the name of the Lord, rejoicing in the power of the Spirit, where will the Spirit lead you, the Shepherd guide you? So much is unknown, and yet he is with us.

We know how to begin: it’s laid out for us in the second chapter of Acts: “Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to (1) the apostles’ teaching and (2) fellowship, to (3) the breaking of bread and (4) the prayers.” They praised God with glad and generous hearts. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

May it be so with us. Amen.

Please join me in saying the 23rd Psalm in the King James Version (BCP, pg. 474).


The LORD is my shepherd; *
I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; *
he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul; *
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his Name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; *
for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; *
thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, *
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.




******

The guided meditation is based on one led by the presiding bishop at diocesan clergy day this past Wednesday.