Sermon: "The Way of the Shepherd"
The Right Reverend Charles G. vonRosenberg
Third Bishop of East Tennessee

[This sermon by Bishop vonRosenberg was delivered using the following notes.]

Today is Good Shepherd Sunday, on which we remember one of the most-loved images of Jesus - that of the Good Shepherd. The collect for today addresses God Almighty in these words: "Jesus is the Good Shepherd of your people." I suppose that there are more Sunday school pictures of Jesus as the Good Shepherd than in any other role. Comfort, caring and protection all are conveyed within this most-loved, most-familiar depiction of our Lord. And this childhood image continues its prominence for most of us, even as adults.

In the Gospel reading, Jesus' disciples apparently did not fully understand the image of the shepherd, and so, he compares himself also to the gate of the sheepfold. That is, he is the necessary way to green pastures, as well as the way back home to safety. He says, "I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture" (Jn 10:9).

Thus, whether we have a shepherd to lead us or a gate through which to come and go, the sense is that Jesus provides us with the way to nourishment, to safety and to ultimate security in this life. Indeed, Jesus is the way.

All of this, though, is the easy part of the message from today's readings. Jesus is the Good Shepherd who leads us to green pastures and back home again. Further, Jesus is the gate - the way - that we travel the journey of this life. However, there is more to the way that Jesus provides than green pastures and safety. In today's second reading, we hear of certain complications in following the way of Jesus Christ.

The passage from the First Letter of Peter actually is addressed to slaves, as practical words of guidance. In fact, the sentence just prior to our reading is this: "Slaves, accept the authority of your masters with all deference, not only those who are kind and gentle but also those who are harsh" (2:18). What comes next, though, applies to us all who seek to follow the one who came "not to be served, but to serve" - that is, Jesus, who came as the servant, the slave, of all. Peter writes, "It is a credit to you, if, being aware of God, you endure pain while suffering unjustly" (2:19). And that surely speaks to all of us at some point in our lives. However, the primary example of unjust suffering, of course, is Jesus himself. Again, from St. Peter, Jesus "himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed" (2:24).

I suppose that one of the greatest challenges to faith for most of us involves unjust suffering - tragedy that is not deserved. In the face of such tragedy how often I have heard people say, "I cannot believe in a God who would allow this." Thus, for many people - and for all of us at some level and at some point - unjust suffering results in more than the tragedy itself. It also brings about a crisis of faith.

Yet, in the shadows of our faith crisis stands the cross of Jesus Christ. The one that we call "Lord" endured suffering unrelated to justice. The tragedy of Jesus' death most certainly was undeserved. And the cross of Jesus stands there - as a response to the reality of unjust suffering and as a confirmation of God's eternal "Yes" to our lives, in spite of everything else to the contrary.

Let me share with you a personal image in this regard. Just following college, I spent a summer in England - working part of the time in a poor district of London and traveling for the rest of the summer. I need to add that at this point in my life, I had gotten away from active church participation. Perhaps it was the times - the '60s - or the time in my life, or an overdose of required chapel at Sewanee, or an inability to reconcile the world's suffering with a loving God - or some combination of those factors. But I had not been attending church for a while. Anyway, during my wanderings in England, I was walking one day along the roadside in remote Dartmoor, in the midst of a rather nasty, misty, fog. Unexpectedly, there was a dramatic break in the dense forest by the roadside, and there, the light shown through the fog and the gloom of the day. I took a picture of that scene, trying to capture the walls of the forest, the fog and the shaft of light, leading up a fairly indistinct hillside.

After I returned home and had my photographs developed, I was showing them to my parents. When we looked at the particular one I have described, my mom asked, "Do you see that tree right in the middle?" Well, I had not seen in previously. However, in the center of the photograph, there is a tree - with one branch on the left of the trunk and one, on the right. And for me, that tree has come to symbolize the cross of Christ in my life - even when I do not see it or acknowledge it. There, in the fog of my life, the cross is present.

I had a copy of that photograph blown up and framed. And I have kept it with me in the churches I have served through the years. In fact, that photograph sits now on a bookshelf in my office. The photo has faded with time … and actually, you can no longer see the dim tree any longer. However, I know it is there. The cross is present, in the fog, even if I cannot perceive it. Indeed, in the midst of the tragedy and sadness of the world, the cross of Christ is there!

Therefore, in conclusion, it is also to us that St. Peter writes, Jesus "himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. For you were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls" (2:24-25). Amen.

Copyright © 2008 The Episcopal Diocese of East Tennessee