When
I was very young I loved Romper Room. I planted myself in front of the TV daily
to watch Miss Beverly and the lucky children who got to play with her in her TV
classroom. Whatever she said was gospel to me. I was a staunch proponent of the
Do Bee concept, ever wary of the Don’t Be. My grandmother loved to tease me and
sing the Do Bee song backwards, “I always do what’s wrong, I never do anything
right,” just to see me get apoplectic. I loved everything about Romper Room.
But the moment Miss Beverly picked up her magic mirror at the end of the show
was unfailingly a moment of despair for me.
She
would begin to name all the children watching at home whom she could see
through her magic mirror: Bobby and Cathy and Barbara and Jimmy, Lucy and Davy
and Billy and Nancy, and on and on. Every day I sat holding my breath waiting
for her to see me, but she never saw me. My mother told me once how hopeful I
looked, listening and waiting, and how disappointed I was every time.
It’s
nice when they know your name. If Miss Beverly had called my name just once, I
would have pledged myself to her for eternity. But, alas, she never saw me. She
never knew me.
I
think it’s fair to say that knowing someone, really knowing them, involves at
the very least knowing their name.
That’s where we begin, usually.
It means something to us, when someone remembers our name. Aren’t you always pleasantly surprised when
someone you only barely know actually remembers your name? I know I am.
Some
years ago, I had a pastor who did not know the names of the children in the
church. He knew the adults all by name,
but he never bothered to know the children’s names. That always bothered me, that he didn’t seem
to care enough about them to know their names.
How could he be their pastor, their shepherd, if he didn’t know their
names?
The
shepherd knows his sheep and calls them by their names, Jesus says in this
parable. And they follow him because
they know the voice of their shepherd when he calls their names. Just as Mary Magdalene knew the voice of
Jesus when she heard him call her name in the garden.
In
this passage of John’s gospel, Jesus seems to be speaking to not only his
followers, but also some Pharisees, some men who have just finished grilling
the young man Jesus cured on his lifelong blindness. Some Pharisees who are
blind themselves in some very critical ways, and who may be deaf as well, as
they wouldn’t likely hear the voice of the shepherd calling their names. And
so, it is little wonder that these Pharisees did not, as the text tells us,
understand what Jesus was saying to them.
So,
he tried another metaphor, saying “I am the gate.” The one who guards the sheep
in the enclosure, the means by which you may come in or go out, the gate by
which one may enter the kingdom of God. Whether it is as the shepherd or the
gate, these Pharisees were unable to comprehend his message to them. They did
not see him for who he was.
Whether
it is the shepherd or the sheepfold gate, it is clear to us that Jesus is
identifying himself as the one who watches over us. He is the one who is strong
enough to protect, the one who cares enough to save us. Jesus can be trusted to
guide us in and out of the sheepfold. In our coming and our going, we may rely
on the one who would lay down his life for us.
This
is the gospel message: we have a savior who knows us because he chooses to know
us; he loves us enough to suffer on our behalf for the sin of the world so we
have life, and life abundant; he cares for us enough to send an advocate, the
Holy Spirit, who will continue to be with us, watch over us, and guide us in
his path. Amen?
It
gives us comfort to know that we have a good shepherd watching over us. But, as
the little boy who was frightened by the thunderstorms said to his father, “I
know Jesus is with me, but I need Jesus with skin on!” We need to warmth, the
firmness, the tenderness of flesh and blood companions who care for us.
I
know Jesus loves me and Jesus saves me. I am more concerned about whether there
are people who know me, love me, care for me, and are willing to protect me if
need be. I know I have a friend in Jesus. I am more concerned about how many
true friends I have in Jesus’ church. And what’s more, I am concerned about
whether my love is great enough to be a faithful friend in Christ’s name – a
friend to my brothers and sisters in Christ, as well as those who are outside
the sheepfold.
I
am concerned that we rest too comfortably in the knowledge of Christ’s saving
love and let it go at that. The hard truth is that there is nothing Christ did
for us that he does not also ask us to do for others.
As
followers of Christ we must ask ourselves how well we are doing at providing
this kind of love and care to others. Do we know one another’s names? How well
are we doing at knowing one another and the needs of each one? Jesus assured
his followers and even those who didn’t follow him that he will know them and
care for them individually. Jesus needs us to do that.
And,
actually, we have some great ways in which we do that at Faith. There was an
interesting conversation a few weeks ago at the roundtable that I want to share
with you. The conversation started with someone telling us about an
acquaintance who came to visit one Sunday. And when we got to sharing our joys
and concerns, this woman was surprised. She was a member of a much larger
congregation, where they don’t do such things – it’s really not feasible for
very large congregations to do it. So I guess it seemed bizarre to her and she
said something like, “Really, does anyone actually care about Aunt Tillie’s
toe?”
And
the answer was, yes. We care. Because we care about one another as members of
this flock. And if you are worried about your Aunt Tillie’s toe then we are,
too. We share the joys and concerns of each one in common. The sharing of joys
and concerns, and the prayer chain in which all these concerns are recorded and
shared more broadly, is one important means by which this congregation
demonstrates this loving care Jesus speaks about.
And
what’s really cool is that by practicing this as a congregation we have sort of
woven a safety net of love. If a stranger walks into our sanctuary and worships
with us, and this stranger shares concern about their Aunt Tillie, we will
care. Even if we don’t know them. Because it is an expression of who we are.
This
is an important thing that we do. We should keep doing this thing we do. But
let’s also take it a step farther.
Jesus
is able to assure his listeners that he will be watching over them because he
is expecting us to pick up this mantle. Jesus is expecting us to care for his
sheep. He is expecting us to watch over the most vulnerable and needy of his
children. And to do it with the confidence of the sheep who know their good
shepherd is guiding them, feeding them, and watching over them.
There
are many people in this world who have, in one way or another, bee gravely
harmed by the church – a church that has twisted the gospel into a message of
discrimination and hate and rigidity and exclusiveness. There are spiritually
hungry people in the world who are wary of the church, who do not trust the
church, because of how we have failed them in the past.
What
are we willing to do for them? Are we willing to earn their trust? Are we
willing to love them unconditionally, showing them the grace of God and the
care of the Good Shepherd? Do we care enough about them to learn their names and
their stories? Are we willing to watch over them and protect them from harm?
Christ
offers himself as the good shepherd and the gate. He lays down his life for us
and everyone else. He calls us by name, and he expects us to be able to do the
same. Let us follow in Christ’s example for this world, to know one another by
name and watch over one another in his name.
photo: two friends, Niki and Megan, watching over each other
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