ARE WE FOLLOWING A STRANGER?

     In our Gospel lesson today we heard Jesus say: “I am the good shepherd” and describe the shepherd this way: “the sheep follow him for they know his voice. A stranger they will not follow, but they will flee from him, for they do not know the voice of strangers.”

      The familiarity of a voice is usually a comforting thing. In loving families kids get used to those tones, at just the right pitch with just the right vibrato, and they know that they are safe. Even when they are being held accountable for misdeeds and broken dishes, they know the parameters of whatever disciple is coming their way. You’re unhappy with me. I’m appropriately unhappy that you’re unhappy with me. But it will be alright. We know each other’s voices.

      Jesus said: the sheep will follow the voice they know. But is that familiar voice really the voice of a good shepherd?

      Recently Patricia was describing to me an exercise in one of her management classes where she asked students to list the characteristics of a leader. The class came up with about 35 characteristics, and felt pretty good about it until she said: “You’ve just described the leadership of Adolph Hitler.”

      In a cute little film a few years ago called An American President, Michael J. Fox is a White House staffer who says that people are so thirsty for leadership that in a desert they will drink the sand and think it’s water. And a cynical president played by Michael Douglas replies: they’ll drink sand because they don’t know the difference.

      Well, do we? Do we know the difference between water and sand? Do we know the difference between the voice of the good shepherd and the stranger?

      I think the film got it right that we are thirsty for leadership. We needed it 2000 years ago and we need it today. Two thousand years ago (and this is why we have these words of Jesus preserved for the church) dozens of people were offering up leadership to the followers of Christ.

      “Let’s go join with the Jews in the battle against the Romans, said the Zealot Christians in 66 AD. We’ll fight the good fight, Christ will return again coming on a cloud and we’ll all be heroes.” And a number of Christians bought swords and prepared for battle.

      “Not so fast,” said one Christian, and he sat down and wrote an account of Jesus’ life, reminding the followers of what Jesus said and did. This is our good shepherd, and he said that those who live by the sword will die by it. We know his voice and we know that he did not resist and fight in Jerusalem. And the result was the Gospel of Mark.

      “Let me make this easier for you to follow Christ,” said a Christian by the name of Marcion in the middle of the second century. “I’ll sift through our sacred writings and cut out all the parts that are hard to believe. First of all, I’ll toss all those ancient writings of the Jews so that we can start fresh with a new God as the father of Jesus. And then I’ll toss the Gospel of Mathew and Mark, so that we only have the Gospel of Luke and I’ll cut a little of it. Then I’ll snip some of those meandering paragraphs in the letters of Paul where he is arguing with heaven knows who. And voila! We’ll have some writings that won’t disturb us and if you need any more help, just come to me. I’m your guy.”

      “You’re not our guy” said the church of the second century. “Our writings are supposed to disturb us. We are supposed to be uncomfortable when we confront the holiness of Christ. His voice may call us to places where we are uncomfortable, but we will try to follow because it’s his voice.” And the church declared Marcion a heretic (the first such declaration that it made) and launched a two hundred year discussion on which writings conveyed the voice of Christ. (For those who may be wondering how the church came to acknowledge certain ancient writings as authoritative and not others—the ones on the History Channel—there it is.)

      “Let’s make Jesus fantastical,” suggested another set of Christians called the Docetists. “Jesus looked like a man but he was really just an apparition. He could do all of those miraculous things because he wasn’t really human at all. And he could absorb all that mistreatment on the cross because it didn’t really hurt. And he was alive again on Easter because he didn’t really die. And because he didn’t really go through all of that, when push comes to shove, we don’t have to stand up and suffer either.”

      And the church thought about that for a while and then said: “yes, we do. For those who are faithful there is no way around suffering. And Jesus as Son of God came to us in fully human form precisely to show us that and how to do it. And a voice that calls us away from struggle and suffering is not the voice of Jesus.”

      So there were lots of people offering their services as leaders to the early church and presuming to speak with the voice of Jesus. And for that reason the passage in our Gospel lesson was remembered and treasured where Jesus says: “I am the good shepherd.... I lay down my life for the sheep…. My sheep know my voice.”

      Down through the ages it has been the same. The Crusades of the Middle Ages re-enacted that same Zealot theme that the voice of Christ calls for Christians to fight for Jerusalem. The heroes of the Enlightenment period of Europe and America declared that the voice of Jesus must come to us as the voice of reason. (Thomas Jefferson actually redid Marcion’s editing!) And much of the church of today would rather water down its message than take the risk of offending anyone with Jesus’ radical call for love and inclusion.

      So do we know Jesus’ voice (as the passage today seemed to assume that we would)? And are we following it?

      I could chastise us about our clumsiness in witnessing our faith to others (and our low attendance at the workshop last weekend at Dracut UCC that enhanced that skill), or I could congratulate us that we probably have the only financial report in the whole mainline church where the bottom line is the true bottom line: how we are growing in our giving to others in need.

      Instead I’m going to ask the question another way. Perhaps today instead of knowing Christ’s voice and following, we follow and learn to know Christ’s voice. Perhaps we listen and test, and learn patterns of trust that are consistent with the Gospels and confirmed by the Holy Spirit in the church.

      That means, first, spending some time with the flock. “Lone” is the word we connect with wolf. We don’t say “lone sheep.” At least, not for long. We learn Christ’s voice with others.

      And second that means that we pay attention to the lambs. After the horror of what we saw two weeks ago, and after seeing again the importance of nurturing the vulnerable ones, we should be swamped with offers to help with church school and youth group and scouts, or sending out ambassadors to places like little league and Andover Youth Program. If you hear a voice in your head that says “don’t bother with the lambs,” it’s not the voice of Christ.

      And third, it means that we know that Christ is the gate of the sheep that lets other sheep of other folds into the protection and acceptance along with us. We are not the gate of the sheep. The Judicial Council of the United Methodist Church is not the gate of the sheep. The Book of Discipline is not the gate of the sheep. Congregations that exclude because of sexual orientation or color or class are not the gate of the sheep. Jesus is the gate of the sheep.

      And so I invite you to listen in your heart and ask if the voice of Jesus the Good Shepherd is becoming more familiar to you every day. Or are you hearing the voice of militarism or advertising or the lullaby of entertainment? Are you near the still waters? Are you on a right path and going somewhere? Are you confident in the dark valley?

      And if you don’t like the answer, get next to the Good Shepherd. Get right up close. Watch how the Good Shepherd cares for the other sheep. Watch how the Good Shepherd opens the gate. Watch how the Good Shepherd nourishes and tends and touches and heals. And then you will know his voice.