Easter 4 C + Held + 5.11.25
M. and A.
Campbell-Langdell
All Santos, Oxnard/ St.
Paul’s-Emmanuel, Santa Paula
(Acts 9:46-43, Ps. 23, Rev. 7:9-17, Jn. 10:22-30)
Musician
Bobby McFerrin’s version (1990) of “the 23rd Psalm” images God as a
woman:
“The Lord is
my Shepherd, I have all I need,
She makes me lie down in green meadows,
Beside the still waters, She will lead.”
And perhaps connecting with God as Mother is nowhere more
fitting or more problematic than when we celebrate Mother’s Day. Often our
mothers share love with us that transcends barriers. Many times, they are our
original sense of safety. But many times, our mothers pass on complicated tapes
about living in the world. After all, those of us who are parents know that we
are just broken humans trying to help other humans survive in this world even
as we long for a better one.
It is therefore not without irony on Mother’s Day to think of
God making us to lie down in green meadows. Our experience of our human mothers
may be accompanied with rest, but for many of us our mothers have been Marthas
of that biblical dichotomy between Mary and Martha. Life and society trained
them to be ever active, never without a task.
In Claire Keegan’s novella, Small Things Like These
(2021), one of the main characters, Bill Furlong, lives a life of continuous
industry with his wife Eileen. As he drives along and makes his deliveries, he
sometimes wonders if this is all there is to life. He would like to take the
time to linger and enjoy, but feels trapped in an endless cycle of doing. He
longs to help others and faces a moral quandary. Don’t we all relate? Some of the reason I am
taking some sabbatical time in the next six weeks is to hopefully escape the
cycle of endless activity and come back to you all refreshed and even more
focused and engaged. I need space
to listen and reflect and so do you. We
all need space in our lives periodically to stop and listen. We need to be made to lie down in the Divine
Presence.
Thinking of our need to linger and rest, draws me into the
reading from the Acts of the Apostles today. Tabitha/Dorcas, whose name means
Gazelle, dies, and it is a time of tremendous grief not only because of the
loss of relationship with her but also because of all she does in the
community. In a time when clothing was precious and hard to come by, created as
a result of a lot of labor, Dorcas was an important figure in their community,
providing tunics to those who needed them. And yet, as they mourn, they linger.
They take time to wash her carefully preparing her body for burial. Even though
they call for the disciples with haste, when Peter arrives, they take time to
show him the fruits of Dorcas’ labor letting Peter know just what she means to
them. After Peter raises Dorcas, with the famous “Talitha cum,” Peter continues
this holy lingering, as he stays with Simon, the tanner. Peter’s lingering with
Simon will lead to another transformation, but that is the story for another
day.
Holy lingering such as this is important because it opens the
eyes to holy imagination. Too often I spend time in prayer just listing the
things I wish to pray for. But when I am silent, God speaks to me. Through
images and nudges, guidance to scriptures or something or someone rising to
mind who had not been on my mind before. If I do not leave the space for this
to happen, I am not open to God’s wisdom. Holy Imagination is key to the image
we see in the book of Revelation today. In Revelation chapter 6, the 6th
seal has been broken accompanied by much shaking of the earth and trembling of
the people on it, and the question is asked, “Who can stand?” But from earth
our vision is drawn heavenward and, a bit like what happens with a lens ball
where when you look at a scene through it, the image is inverted, here the
heavenly image appears to be reversed. If we contrast this scene with the
triumphal entry into Jerusalem, here we see followers of the Christ who wave
palms, but this time they will not turn against him. They
have remained faithful. Their robes are white, which is an odd image because
they have been washed in blood. But somehow in this heavenly scene, blood is
not defiling as in some ancient Hebrew scriptures, but it is cleansing.
Salvation brings healing and a sense of home.
Following the Lamb turned Shepherd has a tendency to overturn all our
spiritual expectations.
Which brings us to our passage from the book of John today.
While the image of the kingly shepherd that guides and guards the sheep is a
tremendous one, comforting and reassuring, we cannot get around the fact that
some parts of the gospel of John seem pretty anti-Semitic. When asked if he is
really the Messiah, Jesus essentially says that he is, but that they are not
open to understanding that, and that only his “sheep” will see him. This has
been read over the years as a very exclusive understanding of Christianity.
However, let’s reverse the expectations once more. What if doubt were a good
thing?
This week, the conclave selected a successor to Pope Francis. Some of you may have
seen a dramatic film that was released last year, “Conclave (2024).” In that
movie, doubt and questions do not mean a lack of faith but rather an engaged
faith. What if Jesus, rather than saying that some will doubt and be left out,
and some will blindly believe and be let in, instead means to say, when your
head isn’t following, let your heart take the lead?
We pray that Pope Leo the 14th will faithfully
guide all of his sheep and be a good example of faith to all of us and a good leader of the Roman Catholic Church.
Linger, ask the questions you need of God and of God’s people and scriptures.
Pray, pray, pray but leave space for God to speak. Leave space in your attention
to see where God is at work. Can you
imagine if Dorcas’ community had continued to grieve, refusing to believe that
she was alive? It is only when we are
open to listening and lingering to observe where God is at work that the Divine
Shepherd will have space to speak to our hearts. To give us guidance. But
here’s the rub. When you hear that guidance, you must follow. Even when it
brings you to unexpected places. Even if it brings you to the valley of the
shadow of death.
But even there, if you remain faithful, you will find yourself around that heavenly throne. You will find home. And you will be held. Jesus says of his sheep: “no one will snatch them out of my hand.” We know that God holds Jesus in God’s loving hands, and in the same way Jesus promises to hold us and allow us to rest in him.
The final verse of Psalm 23 begins, “Surely
goodness and mercy will [pursue] me all the days of my life, and I will dwell…”
(Psalm 23:6). Here, Bobby Morris points
out that “the Hebrew is literally ‘and I shall return into the house of the
Lord.’” Morris continues, “[A]s we go to
and fro in this life, for as long as our days last, God brings us back into the
divine presence from whatever would seek to separate us.”[1] Goodness and mercy pursue us in order to
bring us home. We are brought back again
and again to lie down by still waters, to linger, to wait for the Spirit to
move. For when the earth is shaking around you, trust that you will be held,
you will be cared for, you will be led to places of rest, and you will be
brought home.
Amen.
[1] Bobby
Morris, “Commentary on Psalm 23,” (WorkingPreacher.org, May 12, 2019). Available online at: https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-psalm-23-22
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