Sermons

Unready as a Shepherd

Anne Emry
St. Matthew's Episcopal Church
December 2, 2007

Do you ever feel like a shepherd? I mean one of the shepherds that Luke tells us about in the Gospel (Luke2:8-20). A few people out on a hill in the dark, watching the livestock with nothing more than a small campfire for warmth. Then suddenly there is brilliant light and a heavenly vision, and an angel telling them to hurry to Bethlehem to see a miracle: the Creator God, Love Divine, come to be with us.

Do you think they were ready for that?

The next thing they knew they were stumbling over rocks and brambles in the dark, pushing their flock as fast as they could, out of breath and shot through with adrenaline. Their eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark again when they reached the stable, where they nearly tripped at the door, stunned by what they saw. Their ears had heard the news, but their hearts were unprepared for Jesus Christ.

Do you ever feel like that? Would it help to have a little time to get ready; to know what is going to happen between you and God, and what it will be like?

Begin today. This is the first Sunday of Advent, the season to prepare for the coming of Jesus Christ. I could even say Happy New Year, because this Sunday marks the beginning of the church year. But you may not be ready to hear that either. We have some time yet: a moment, so we can step back from the doorway to the manger and ready ourselves for what is about to happen.

And there is another shepherd for you to think about to help you get ready. The shepherd named Nicholas. He was born in Patara, a village in what is now Turkey, but was then part the Roman empire. He lived in the fourth century and is remembered for his generosity; he was especially kind to young people, and to the poor. You are already way ahead of me aren’t you? Of course I’m talking about St. Nicholas. But did you know he was a shepherd? No? Yes? He was a particular kind of shepherd – a bishop. A shepherd’s crook is one of the traditional symbols of a bishop, and it indicates not only that a bishop leads our church, but it shows HOW a bishop should lead us. A bishop leads us from among us – there is no separation, no difference in importance between one sheep and another. The words “pastor” and “pastoral” derive from this image of care and kindness that is central to Christian ministry.

There is a beautiful African American carol that I have sung with delight all my life – maybe you know it too. One verse says: Leave your sheep and leave your lambs, Rise up, shepherd, and follow. Leave your ewes and leave your rams, Rise up, shepherd, and follow. It’s a wonderful song, but there is one thing wrong with it. A shepherd cannot leave the sheep. A shepherd cannot leave his sheep. His sheep were all he had – his job, his survival and his family. And the sheep needed the shepherd just as much, for their survival, to find food and water in a dry and barren land, to stay safe from predators. Everyone in the ancient world knew this – they knew more about shepherds than we do. Jesus spoke of himself as the good shepherd, because he knew the people would understand what that meant. A shepherd is defined by his relationship to those sheep, and they depend on him. A shepherd never leaves his sheep.

St. Nicholas, the bishop of Myra, was a shepherd in many ways. The stories about St. Nicholas tell us about his leadership and ministry -- that he gave hope to the faithful during a time of persecution; that he was a person of great spiritual authority and compassion; that he was selflessly dedicated to God, and the people of God. The connection with children seems to be the most powerful part of the legacy of St. Nicholas, which accounts for his modern incarnation as Santa Claus. But you might wonder why being kind to children was so unusual that we talk about it sixteen hundred years later.

Today’s Gospel goes right to the heart of the subject. Jesus saw that the disciples were trying to discourage people from bringing their children to Jesus for a blessing. Now why would the disciples try to keep people away from Jesus? Why children in particular?

That is a very 21st century question.

In the time of Jesus – as in the time of St. Nicholas – children had the lowest status in society. If they were too young to work, they were a burden on their family until they were older. If they were girls, they posed the additional burden of a dowry. Children were kept out of the way until and unless they proved to be useful. No music lessons, no soccer games, no presents from Santa. Their parents cared for them, but the community showed no interest in them whatsoever.

Jesus has a way of teaching that turns everything you thought you knew upside-down. He saw what was happening and cleared all of the adults out of the way, including his friends. The Gospel says he was indignant, outraged! And he said “Let the little children come to me.”

I’m sure there were children, and that their parents gratefully, if hesitantly, brought them forward to see the teacher. But he wasn’t talking to the children when he said “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” He was talking to adults who were looking down on the children as unimportant, as dust.

Those children stood before Jesus representing all of us when we are the least, the last and the lost in the reckoning of this world. Jesus reaches out to you whether or not you have a job, or a family. He will touch you in your ill-health, your worry, your grief, and even in your doubt. “And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.”

“Blessed are the meek.” Blessed are those who approach God with a humble, expectant heart. That is how to enter the Kingdom. Children have an immediacy of hope for generosity and kindness. When our hope seems remote, when we don’t really believe there is a treasured gift waiting for us, we can remember that he blessed children and we can look at Jesus with hope for a blessing ourselves.

No matter how unready we feel.

As we stand at the door of the stable, on the cusp of Advent, we know what happened to that infant child. We know what the world did to him. But do we really know what he did for the world? Do we know what that means for us? We have heard the news of Jesus, and our hearts yearn for him. Let us listen to our hearts, as we ready ourselves to celebrate the Nativity, to receive the gift that is greater than anything this world can offer: the gift of being known and loved by God, the gift of being forgiven and accepted, the gift of His presence.

What did the shepherds see when they stood at the door of the stable? An ordinary scene: a human child who had just been born in poverty. But they had words to speak. They told Mary and Joseph that they had been sent by angels. Jesus comes to us in our ordinary lives, then and now. It is where ordinary life suddenly meets glory that we start to see the kingdom of God. We think we are going to see sheep, and we meet with angels.

Sermons

Unready as a Shepherd

Anne Emry St. Matthew's Episcopal Church December 2, 2007

Anne Emry
St. Matthew's Episcopal Church
December 2, 2007