shepherd of the people

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, magi from the east came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star in the east and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him, and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for so it has been written by the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah,

for from you shall come a ruler

who is to shepherd my people Israel.’ ” (Matthew 2:1-6)

In the history of the churches three important obstacles to overcome have been:

1. in ancient times, the incarnation

2. in medieval times, the crucifixion

3. in modern times, the resurrection.

In modern times many rational or sceptical minds have balked at the idea that a person could be raised from the dead. Not reincarnated, and not the resuscitation of a corpse, but resurrected. A problem for Easter preachers.

A problem for Good Friday pastors, at least in the West, has been the overwhelmingly abhorrent image of a crucified god, of the one who was and is and is to come fastened to a cross. And then of course its necessity becomes the new object of attention.

The ancient Mediterranean world had its problem with the feast of the Nativity, and the idea of incarnation. That in one unique moment into human history precipitously from above the one true and living God would blast into history leaving no remainder left over. In him the fullness of God was pleased to dwell. And in no other.

Of course in all these periods of history, modern, medieval, and ancient, there was another problem to be overcome.

Jesus is Lord. And there is no other.

Caesar is not Lord. No earthly sovereign can be an acceptable substitute for the ultimate claims of Christ.

He came out of nowhere, if you weren’t listening. If you were a Jew, or a God-fearing Gentile, he was long expected, and for some long feared. 

Jesus’ birth was as Matthew reminds us the fulfillment of the promise of ages. This was the king of kings, the one true scion of David’s lineage, who would rule forever. 

In ancient times, as  in the Iliad with its repeated epithet, “shepherd of his people”, applied to Hector, Agamemon, and Nestor, kings were supposed to be as faithful protectors and providers as a good shepherd was of a flock. David was called from the herds to the halls of kingship.

And so the long expected Jesus was anticipated to be the fulfillment of messianic prophecy, and a champion in the fashion of David and other warrior kings. He would liberate his people. 

But not like that. Perhaps a hint could be found in the humility of his birth. Sure, birth stories are origin stories, verification of our impression of the later adult. Mary Queen of Scots gave birth in a small panelled room in Edinburgh’s hilltop castle to a child who would become James VI of Scotland and I of England. Jenny Jerome Churchill gave birth to Winston Spencer Churchill in a not much larger room on the ground floor near the library in Blenheim Palace. And so the careers of magnificence began.

In a castle. In a place. Not in a manger. Or a shepherd’s cave. Or in a stable. Or a nearby inn. Or a guestroom in an overcrowded family home. 

Matthew in his story of the magi and their gifts provides a heralding fit for a king. Nobody got it  but Herod. 

Where is he who is born to be king of the Jews? “A ruler who is to shepherd my people.”

This was not a happy portent for Herod Antipas, son of a greater Herod, a client-king enthroned at the sufferance and for the service of Rome, and the emperor across the sea whose mighty hand could and would crush any rebellion coming from Jerusalem.

And Jesus was a bigger threat than that. He was more than a king like any other. He was indeed a king unlike any other. We've got the concept of kingship wrong if we think some earthly ruler fits the bill.

We are all stewards, from our moment of greatest power to our time of summary weakness. We share in the kingship of Christ in our care for his people. Sometimes it is our turn, in line at the supermarket, on the witness stand in court, in the privacy of voting, or in some greater public act. Our common humanity is our kingship. We share in that sovereignty as we are sovereign in the freedom of our acts and choices.

O little town of Bethlehem, birthplace of the greatest hero of antiquity, who was no hero in the mythic mode, but a savior and shepherd, servant sacrificial in love and obedience, fierce defender of the innocent.

Redeemer. Shepherd of the people.

JRL+

Christmas

One Christmas I got something unexpected in the mail – a shoebox, for women’s pumps, black, size 7-1/2 B.

Inside the box were three half-pound packages of coffee from Old Bisbee Roasters.

There was also a Christmas card. The outside had a cartoon of a little boy, presumably in a Christmas pageant, with a blanket on his head. It was captioned “What Christmas is really about.” Linus, Charlie Brown’s little brother, was reciting from the 2nd chapter of the Gospel of Luke:

“And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them… And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." So they went with haste…

The shepherds are not passive viewers; they take an active part in the story. And this is their action moment, when they speak, “Let us go down to Bethlehem…” and move toward the promised Child.

What did they go into the City of David to see?

Was the Child a nascent hero, like Hercules? Children’s books say that when Hercules was a baby he was already a superhero. He strangled snakes in his cradle. And who knows what he got up to when he began to walk – but:

The Christ Child was not Superbaby—he was a real baby. He was vulnerable and soft. His surroundings, warm and fragrant from the animals, were none of his choosing. He was dependent on those around him. Joseph and Mary looked after him. But as we know from the story of the shepherds, he was already drawing toward him those who sought the peace of God.

There in the City of David the Shepherd-king of old, not in a wayfarer’s inn but in a stable, there the King of all shepherds in a manger lay, offering himself as manna, bread of heaven, bread in the wilderness, bread of life – offering himself in obedience and offering that obedience as savior of all; and offering that obedience, to all, as the way that salvation led.

He was the promised Child, the shepherd-king of Isaiah 40:

“Comfort, oh comfort My people, Says your God….

“Like a shepherd He pastures His flock: He gathers the lambs in His arms

And carries them in His bosom; Gently He drives the mother sheep.”

(Isaiah 40:1,11 JPS)

Long ago and far, far away another shepherd abiding in the fields was keeping watch over the flocks by night: Cuthbert, a young man of 9th century Northumbria in northern England. He used to sing the psalms to the sheep at night.

And then one night, at the age of eighteen, he had a vision, or perhaps a dream, and the next morning he went over the hills to Melrose Abbey, where he became a monk. The story goes that that was the very night when Aidan, founder of Lindisfarne Priory on Holy Island, had died.

After some years as a monk, Cuthbert was sent to take Aidan’s place. And so he traveled, on what pilgrims now call Cuthbert’s Way, over the hills again, to Holy Island. There he found behind the priory a beach and across a small inlet of the North Sea a very small rocky islet. At night when the tide was low he would wade out to it, gaze back across the water to the priory where the monks were sleeping, and as they slept he would sing the psalms. “Like a shepherd he pastures his flock…”

The call to Melrose Abbey and the call to the priory on Lindisfarne were moments of decision for Cuthbert. He took action, and got involved in the story. He became a shepherd of men. In doing so, he recalled to mind the Lord that he served – that we serve: Jesus, the Good Shepherd.

The same Lord calls each of us – from field or from home – to come witness the coming of the Christ Child, to adore him, to receive him into our hearts, to share in his life – the fulfillment of the promise of ages – and to bring to the world hope and peace, joy and love, justice and mercy.

The shepherds of Bethlehem went over the hills and into town to see if Jesus really was the Messiah they’d been waiting for. And they found him:

The Shepherd King,

Who calls each of us by name,

Who watches over his flock,

And sings to them of Paradise.

JRL+ 

"Being called to action," an edited version of this meditation, was printed in the Arizona Daily Star, in the Keeping the Faith feature of the Home + Life section, on Sunday 31 December 2023, page E3... and posted on their website under the heading, "Being called to action by the Lord" (https://tucson.com/life-entertainment/local/faith-values/being-called-to-action-by-the-lord/article_fc6a6ec8-a413-11ee-84b2-033d49e48be7.html).

trash

 So here’s the story as best I remember it from Sunday afternoon of the Tucson festival of books: Luis Alberto Urrea told us about Negra and her daughter Nayeli whom he first met when Negra was seven years old and living in the trash dump in Tijuana, where he was a relief worker, and he became friends with her and has known her ever since but when he went back years later with an NPR radio crew to interview her and her family, they decided to have something special to eat and they had shrimp but this was the first time Negra’s daughter Nayeli had ever had shellfish and she went into anaphylactic shock so they jumped back in the NPR van and drove back into Tijuana in search of a clinic and they came to one. This is her only shot to save her… he was holding her and she was getting cold. She was hardly breathing and they got to the clinic and then went to the door and the doctor came out, put his hand up and halted them: No, Indio, she is Indian, and we won’t treat her here. At this point, Luis learned about the power of the media, he says, even for a small one, a forgotten one, like Nayeli’s daughter, the Indian girl from the dump. The NPR producer had his microphone with him. He pulled it out, put it in the doctor’s face and said, do you mean to tell me and you mean to tell our audience, our large audience in the United States, in Mexico, in Canada, in Latin America, in Europe, and in Spain that you won’t treat this girl because she’s Indian?! Oh you misunderstood me he said, and then he treated her and her life was saved, the little one the forgotten one. I want to remember that story because our Lord was both the little one and the Savior in his own story. Will you look at David who is the shepherd? He was the forgotten one, the kid they always just left out in the field when something important was happening and it was God’s prophet who made sure he was in the picture … so Jesus, from this small little village, on the edge of the empire of the time on the edge of Israel became the savior of his country and of humanity, and he did it not forgetting that he was both lamb and shepherd. When we look at Psalm 23 “the Lord is my shepherd” and then we listen to the gospel, we may want to remember not just the ninth chapter of the gospel of John but the 10th, which is when Jesus says, I am the good shepherd, I know my sheep and my sheep know me …. he know he says as a shepherd, my sheep know my voice. And elsewhere he talks about the shepherd going after the one lost sheep and leaving the 99 behind to search for that lost one sheep… so I tell the story because it relates to our Old Testament lesson and our Psalm and our Gospel reading because we are often in the place of Jesus, of being in God's hands as he works in the world: we are the ones who are called to not forget the little one, to be oh, assistant shepherd, as it were, to go after the last little one, and bring it back to life.

Garbage: at the Tucson festival of books, Sunday afternoon, 5 March 2023, Luis Alberto Urrea told us about this episode in “this American life” — on the experience of people who live in the trash dump in Tijuana. Another episode in this true story is found online at:

https://www.thisamericanlife.org/249/garbage 

that all your people may be gathered

In the movie “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” Arthur King of the Britons goes around on his mock horse, clip-clop, clip-clop, announcing “I am Arthur King of the Britons” –  it’s blatant self-heralding.

What a way to build a kingdom. What a way to gather a people.

It doesn’t work of course. Most people respond something like

[jeering] “Oh yeah?”

And one group goes so far as to respond to his announcement in an even more subversive manner…

“I am Arthur, King of the Britons.”

“I don’t know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective.”

Jesus was not a self-heralding king. In fact, by some accounts, he shushed up all business about himself as much as he could.

But the word got out.

The kingdom, that is, the reign, of God, is at hand. It’s time to get ready.

That kingdom is shalom, the peace of God.

What would it be like to live in peace, God’s peace? How would you get there? What would it look like?

To reach God’s shalom,

         justice and righteousness must be established.

To live in safety,

         the fear of death must be removed.

As a shepherd,

         beholding lost sheep, scattered over distant hills, 

Jesus regards with compassion

         the people who have come out to seek him

         in a deserted place

Powered by faith alone.

Send them away, the disciples said,

         so they can buy for themselves

         something to eat.

No, you feed them.

How shall we feed so many?

He had them group themselves for the meal

         organized like Moses’ flock into hundreds and fifties

         into impromptu households

                  like the people fleeing Pharaoh on that first Passover

Giving thanks

         he broke the bread

         telling them

                  this is my own body

Giving thanks – but who has seen him?

When you fed me, gave me drink, clothed me, visited me,

         then you saw me

And so John can testify

         we proclaim to you

         what we have heard,

         what we have seen with our eyes,

         what we have looked at

         and touched with our hands,

(1 John 1:1)

So Jesus host of the sacred meal

         gives thanks

         as Israel always had

                  Blessed be thou O Lord our God,

                  king of the universe,

                  who brings forth bread from the earth

From the earth

         he feeds God’s people

Taking up the resources of creation

         what they had

         what they brought

         blessing it

         revealing its transformative power

When shared

         no longer victims

         they are God’s people once again set free

Like the first Passover

Like the bread in the wilderness, bread from heaven,

once again God feeds them

         with the food he provides

once again

         as with the binding of Isaac

         God himself provides the offering

Jesus

         like a shepherd

         comforts

         feeds his people

         calms their fears

and goes on

         teaching

         healing

         moving among the people

Our shepherd

         gathers us in

         transforms us with his word

                  and his self-gift of the meal

         sends us out again

                  as his messengers

                  his disciples

         to bear Jesus

                  his word

         into the world.

Jeremiah assures the people of Israel that their true shepherds are coming, sent by the Lord. The word to the unfaithful shepherds, leaders who have failed to look after the people and be their guides: you will be called to account.

To the people God’s assurance:

         I will gather, I will bring back, my people

         They will be well and increase

         I will give them shepherds

                  true leaders

         they shall be safe

                  and not afraid

The letter to the Ephesians proclaims that

         we will all become one flock under one shepherd.

         Hostility between peoples is broken down.

         All are gathered around God’s table.

         Nobody is left out, any more.

We are reconciled in Christ

         and through his cross

we are made one people

         in him.

We are all members of his household.

There is a banquet

         not like the dinner party Herod threw for his own birthday

         a heaven-sent banquet

                  not just for the prominent or the select

         all are at the table

                  this time

         the table that is the kingdom feast of God.

But can we do enough?

Are the resources we have enough for God to work with?

And who will come,

         if we extend the invitation? God knows!

When you open the doors,

         who knows who will come in,

         who God will send.

We find out, a bit, simply enough:

         God keeps sending us people,

         like the people of Edmonds,

                  Mountlake Terrace, North Seattle, …

God keeps sending us the

         familiar stranger

as well as the

         heroically Other.

Whoever God sends us,

         God calls us to be faithful

         in serving

                  as his messengers, his disciples, his friends.

We are no longer strangers – but remember (God says),

         you were a stranger once;

         know you who are a member of the household,

         a citizen numbered with the saints,

know to be prepared

         to become one great people of glory

         to be built into a dwelling place

         for – not ourselves –

         for God.

Risen Christ,

faithful shepherd of your Father’s sheep:

teach us to hear your voice

and to follow your command,

that all your people may be gathered into one flock,

to the glory of God the Father.

Closing prayer from Common Worship (http://www.churchofengland.org/prayer-worship/worship/texts.aspx)
Notes for a sermon to be given Sunday 22 July 2012 at Saint Alban's Episcopal Church, Edmonds, Wash. (stalbansedmonds.org)
Jeremiah 23:1-6, Psalm 23, Ephesians 2:11-22, Mark 6:30-34, Mark 6:53-56, BProper11, Shepherd, Shepherd King, JRL+