May 6, 2001
4th Sunday of Easter
Year C
Title: Now What? The Resurrection Of Our Divine Connection
Theme: In a world of competing voices, how can we recognize the voice
of Christ—the one who will connect us to God? You and I will know that
true and authentic divine voice by the goodness it calls forth from us.
As we begin this third part of this sermon series for Eastertide, this
sermon series I’ve called NOW WHAT? THE MORNING AFTER, which of
course is referring to the morning after resurrection, I wanted to begin
with a question that someone asked me the other day while we were
talking—he asked the same question that we struggled with during the
“Queer As Christians” sermon series a few months ago. When we were
talking about his own personal struggle with coming to terms with being
and Christian, he asked me something probably many of us have asked
over the years: “How do we know we are right about this?” When I
preached a few months ago, I pointed to the fact that being wrong or
right is not really the point—because what really matters is that God is
right about us—right about our goodness, our wholeness, our beauty,
and our worth as lesbian and gay people. Sounds awfully esoteric, I
know, but it’s not an uncommon question for us Christians to ask about
this issue or a whole lot of issues. How do we know that we are right
about the goodness of being Christian and gay? Or even how do we
know that women are called to serve the church as ordained ministers,
even though there are times when Scripture seems to dismiss that
possibility? How do we know that slavery is morally wrong, even when
Scripture says its OK to own and enslave another human being? How do
we know that we have made a divine connection, that the voice we are
listening is God’s voice, rather than our own voice, or even worse, that
we are listening to the voice of evil rather than the voice of good?
Well, I think the truth from that we arrived at during the sermon series
earlier this year still stands—getting lost in being right or wrong, worrying
too much about our correct belief, is to miss the fundamental fact that
God doesn’t love us because we are wrong or right about anything, but
God is right about us as God’s beautiful and wondrous creation. Still,
the question I was asked the other day still rings in my head, perhaps
because the passage today has Jesus being asked essentially the same
question. Jesus in the passage today is asked by some of his listeners,
probably some of his enemies, whether they would be right or wrong in
declaring him the Messiah. Now, keep in mind that we are going
backwards now, that we’re wading back into the life of Jesus before he
was crucified. They are asking Jesus whether or not he is the Messiah
that they have been expecting for so many years, the one who would set
them free from Roman rule and give them back their sense of dignity as
God’s chosen people. Jesus’ questioners here are used to a new
Messiah of the week coming down the pike every few months, usually
with disastrous consequences. The Romans, you see, didn’t like
competitors, especially would-be Messiahs that might upset their political
and social control of Israel, and so the streets of Jerusalem would often
run red with the blood of these would-be Messiahs and their followers.
So they ask, they ask this seemingly new Messiah of the week, “So, are
you it? Are you the Messiah? Are you the one with the divine
connection, the one we’ve been expecting for centuries? Are we right or
wrong about you?” Perhaps his questioners at this moment want to
believe that he is indeed the one, but they probably don’t—but they do
want to know whether they are right or wrong about Jesus and they want
to know what Jesus has to say for himself. The interesting thing is that
the passage before us today is found at the end of a very long speech
where Jesus talks about being connected to God and his followers, and
he talks about being a shepherd to his followers and how he has truly
shepherded those who knew his voice, unlike those who had led others
astray only to kill and destroy them. In ancient times, this metaphor of
sheep and shepherds would have made sense because shepherds and
sheep filled the countryside much like billboards filled our own
landscape. And sheep, sheep know the voice of their shepherd; they
become familiar with it, just as we become familiar with the voices of our
mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. It is a familiar voice, the voice
they trust to lead them out of danger and into a secure place.
Jesus, in his reply to their question of whether or not he is the divinely
connected Messiah, grows a little impatient—and I think I would to if I had
spent hours and hours talking about this very issue. “Look! Do you just
NOT GET IT? I’ve told you and told you and you still don’t get it. Alright
then, enough words. What I’ve DONE with my divine connection, with my
connection with my Father, my divine parent, should be enough proof. I’
ve healed, I’ve changed water into wine, I’ve brought dead people back
to life—and still you need more proof that I’m the One. Maybe its
because you can’t hear my voice—you WON’T hear my voice, because
you are not destined to be my followers. My sheep, the people given to
into my care—they know me and they will never be taken away from me.
My Father, my Mother has given me these ones, and they know me and I
know them.” Jesus response probably comes out of his frustration with
EXPLAINING the truth—and people never getting it. And then he just
points to the obvious—“look at my life? What does my life say to you?
Does the Messiah heal and make whole? Does the Messiah tell the truth
about caring for the poor?!” It reminds of a quote by Mother Teresa that
we at the Cathedral have taken as our own in the past couple of years—
she says, “Enough words. Let them see our work.” And I think she got
it, unlike Jesus questioners those hundreds of years ago, questioners
that would pick up rocks to stone Jesus only moments after Jesus said
these very words because what he said to them angered them so much.
So, if we are God’s resurrection people, God’s people called to
wholeness and hope, joy and peace, how do we know that the voice we
are hearing is the one that will lead to those very things—to peace, to
hope, to joy, to hope? How do we know that we are hearing the voice of
the Good Shepherd, rather than our own voice or an even more sinister
voice? How do we know that we actually have a divine connection,
rather than simply a human connection? Jesus answers that here in this
passage with those he has been teaching in this passage—we know that
we are hearing the voice of the good shepherd, we know that we are
making our divine connection when that voice produces a life filled with
the goodness that is God. In the end, when he finished talking, Jesus
pointed to his life as proof that he was who he said he was. For Jesus, in
the end, truth is more lived out than spoken about—a million words will
not take the place of simply living a life that is good and whole—and a
life that constantly chooses grace over judgment, hope over despair, life
over death, resurrection over crucifixion. The way we know we are on
the right track, the way we know that we are hearing the voice of life and
not death, the voice of Christ rather than some other voice, is what
choices that voice calls us to—choices that bring healing and wholeness
and goodness.
I knew a guy in college, who eventually became a friend of mine a couple
of years after college, who was one of the most uptight, conservative
people I knew. He actually was a Southern Baptist minister in rural
county in Alabama, and was the roommate of a friend of mine, who
happened to be gay. Long story about how that happened, but
nonetheless, Richard was one of the most conservative people I knew,
both theologically and politically, and anytime I found myself over at my
friend’s apartment, Richard and I would somehow start talking politics
and it would just end up being a heated argument. Richard was the kind
of Young Republican that had pictures of Ronald Reagan and George
Bush senior on his bedroom wall, and he was actually the local leader of
the CHRISTIAN COALITION in the rural county he lived in. The thing
about Richard that stuck with me the most was how measured he was,
how uptight and tense he always seem to be. He just seemed like a
bundle of nerves and he never seemed to be able to relax, to just let go
and be himself. Years later, after not really seeing him for a few years, I
received a phone call from him when I was in seminary in Atlanta. In a
long, late night conversation Richard came out to me, and told me his
story of his struggle, of life long struggle with coming terms with being
gay, despite the fact that he was the pastor of the First Baptist church in
the town he was living in. He asked me that night what I thought about
being gay and Christian and we talked deep into the night about that
issue. He wanted to know whether he was listening to right voice in his
spiritual life, especially about this emerging belief, this emerging voice
that was telling him that he was loved by God as he was, as a gay man.
And as the months and years have passed, I’ve seen the results of him
hearing that voice, of paying attention to that divine voice, the voice of
Christ, that said to him, “It’s alright, Richard. You’re loved for who you
are, the way I created you, not for who others want you to be or who you
even want to be. You are loved, period.” It was a remarkable thing to
witness him listening to that divine connection, to the voice of the Good
Shepherd, because it produced a different Richard—it produced a life
transformed by the truth. When I saw him again, he was incredibly
relaxed and at peace—he laughed and had a sense of humor and
playfulness I had never seen in him. It’s as if the tension just seeped
away and what it revealed in its place was this kind and gentle man—who
had a tremendous sense of humor. I remember thinking that there was
no way I could have convinced him that night years ago that the voice he
was hearing which called him to be truthful to himself and others was the
voice of the Good Shepherd. But I don’t think any one could now doubt
the goodness of that voice and the transformed life that voice had
produced. Who he was now was deeper and more whole than anything
any of his friends had ever seen, even those friends who didn’t agree
with him regarding his homosexuality. What the divine connection
produced in his life said more than a thousand words. Jesus knew that
truth as well, and in the end, he pointed to his life, rather than offering
his detractors yet more words.
Whatever way we are struggling, whatever way we are seeking to find
God’s good and holy voice, the voice of the Good Shepherd, the only
way that we know for sure whether the voice is God’s voice is by what it
produces in us. Trusting that the authentic voice of Christ ALWAYS,
ALWAYS leads to a life filled with goodness and hope, joy and peace, is
a hard thing, especially when the voice calls us to do some scary and
painful things so that we can get to the goodness and peace, the hope
and the joy. . Jesus calls us to follow him and he leads us to a cross,
sometimes asking us on the way there to leave behind the old, death-
dealing ways. But, in the end, we will find ourselves resurrected again,
finding the road to our hope going right through the cross into the
resurrected lives filled with the goodness that you and I were meant for.
The divine connection, listening to the voice of God, is a tricky thing, but
we’re asked to listen, we’re asked to be sheep, forever listening and
trusting the familiar voice of the Good Shepherd, the living Christ. And
we will know that it is a familiar voice because of what that voice
produces in us, in our lives—freedom and hope, life and laughter, truth
and authenticity, lives that reflect the goodness of God—things my friend
Richard found when he stopped listening to the voices of those who
wanted him to be something other than what God had created him to be.
The one who asked me that question about whether or not we are right
about sexual orientation may not be asking the same question you are
right now, but the answer Jesus gives us here remains the same.
Whatever voice you are struggling with right now, whether its about your
sexual orientation, your career, your spouse, your future, your finances,
know that you will recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd because
the voice will call you and I to reflect the very goodness of God, which is
grace and goodness and truth. Jesus points to his life when confronted
by those who doubt him—so too must we point to our lives, whenever
anyone doubts whether the voice we hear is from our Good Shepherd.
Whatever our struggle, we’ll recognize the voice of our Shepherd when it
calls us to goodness and wholeness—the things we were created for, we
who are God’s resurrected people, we who are no longer in tombs, but
we who are incredibly and wondrously immersed in God’s good and
wonderful world. Amen.
