Lost Sheep
Matthew 9:3-10:8

June 15, 2008


I like sheep. When I was a child I often visited my grandparents’ farm. The farm is, today, a Heritage farm; it was settled by my grandfather who came out from eastern Ontario to create a life for himself. He and my grandmother were typical prairie farmers: she bore eight children (of which my father was the oldest) and they lived on the products they raised. While my grandmother was raising the children she worked a huge garden and orchard and, during harvest, produced mountains of food which the hired hands instantaneously devoured. My grandfather was a champion hog producer. But he also raised sheep. I will always remember trying to bottle-feed the little lambs who would often latch on to the nipple and leap away as if it was a game. In the early spring it was not unusual to find baby lambs or piglets in a box under the wood stove in grandma’s kitchen. It was an early “incubator’ for these wee ones which would otherwise have died out in the cold.

Now I spin yarn out of lamb’s wool for socks and scarves and sweaters. I am fortunate to have the spinning wheel which belonged to my maternal great-grandmother; sitting at it brings her close to me, I feel.

In the gospel for today we find Jesus in the early days of his ministry. He is travelling around Lower Galilee to the villages and towns preaching the `good news’ and healing the sick. It is estimated that Capernaum, the centre of Jesus’ ministry in Matthew’s gospel, had a population of ten thousand. The region fell along a major trade route, which would have exposed residents to goods and ideas passing from east to west. Tiberius, built in honour of the emperor along the southwest edge of the sea, was a reminder of the all-embracing presence of Rome, to whom they paid taxes, and whose troops they supported. It is in this context that Jesus teaches in synagogues, proclaims the good news of the kingdom, and cures every disease and sickness.



Notice that Jesus teaching and healing almost always occur together. Jesus isn’t interested only in proclaiming the kingdom message but his deep compassion calls him to address the daily physical realities of the people he encounters. In the ancient world, with poor sanitation and limited access to clean water, disease would have been rampant. Under such conditions people’s minds are focused on the essentials of life: food, shelter and wellness. Jesus looks upon the multitude of human needs before him and finds them to be: harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.

Eugene Petersen says:
When he looked out over the crowds, his heart broke. So confused and aimless they were, like sheep with no shepherd.

Shepherding is one of the oldest professions. There is a good reason why the illustration of a shepherd with his sheep was used so often in biblical times; it was one people could easily identify with in their cultural context. Being a shepherd meant feeding the lambs and sheep, bringing them to good pasture land and water, shearing them, delivering new lambs, leading them and teaching them to stay together, going off after the wandering lost ones., and protecting the sheep in the field and in the fold. The shepherd often lived apart from society, being largely nomadic. And, unlike farmers, they were often wage earners – being paid to watch others’ sheep. The shepherd had to live with the sheep, sleeping on the hillsides with them and eating simple food. Often the weather might be stormy. Protecting the sheep from predators could be dangerous. Sheep have a reputation of not being very bright. Normally they follow the crowd, but as we know from scripture it was not unusual for the shepherd to have to go scrambling over the rocks looking for the adventurous one who had become separated from the flock. It could be boring work at times, so they might carve a flute to entertain themselves. King David was first a shepherd; some of the psalms he wrote may have come from his shepherding days.

The island of Iona lends itself well to sheep production but not a lot else. The first week that Jan and I were there was the week after they had loaded the lambs on the ferry to be taken to be slaughtered. For that next week the air was full of the bleating of the mother’s calling for their lambs. It was a heart-breaking sound. Everywhere, sheep were standing around in the fields, on the main road (there are few enclosures on the island)even around the walls of the Abbey. Lost sheep. They seemed, as Peterson says, confused and aimless.

Rainer Maria Rilke, one of the twentieth centurie’s most famous poets wrote a book entitled, The Book of Hours: Love poems to God. It contains what he felt were spontaneously received prayers , which he offered for spiritual practice in a secular world. This one seemed fitting for today:

I have hymns you haven’t heard
There is an upward soaring
In which I bend close.
You can barely distinguish me
from the things that kneel before me.

They are like sheep. They are grazing.
I am the shepherd on the brow of the hill.
When evening draws them home
I follow after, the dark bridge thudding.

And the vapour rising from their backs
Hides my own homecoming.
Rainer Maria Rilke

His words reminded me, again, of living on Iona. Returning home after evening worship we would sometimes encounter on the largely empty main street, the shepherd bringing the sheep home for the night. The thudding of their feet echoed a rhythmic chant we might have sung at evensong. And, because it rained often on the island they were often enveloped in mist. In the twilight as we crept silently off to our beds it was a comforting sight: the shepherd bringing the sheep safely home.

William Willimon, a famous preacher comments on this text:
There’s a lot of work to be done. Jesus looks on a multitude of human needs (9:36). They are lost and scattered, like sheep without a shepherd. This is surely meant to be an allusion to Israel’s hope that there would one day be a messiah who would gather the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Matthew wants to show Jesus as the embodiment of that messianic expectation.

Jesus has seen too much suffering. Like his people, he longs for the promised kingdom of God. While he doesn’t see himself as the expected `king’ he has accepted the call to lead his people towards a future of peace with justice. As he casts his eye on the crowd, he comments, The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few” The job is huge; he cannot do it all alone. He needs others to help bear the burden of the work. So he calls to him his 12 disciples. Jesus knows that soon enough they will have to carry his mission without his leadership. As tools for the work before them Jesus gives them the same power they need to do the very same things that he himself does – healing, restoration and salvation. I wonder how they all felt? Were they excited? Did they feel overwhelmed? Were they confident in addressing the pressing needs?

William Willimon writes that:
Years ago I wrote a book on burnout. I interviewed dozens of pastors who had called it quits. A major reason they gave for their ceasing to be pastors was failure. The failure of the church to be the church just finally wrote them down. Take an organization, the church – which is charged by Jesus with helping to redeem the world, preach the gospel to everyone, everywhere, and to be signs of the reign of God. There is bound to be much failure. Jesus has set our sights so high.

Indeed, the bar is set high. But take a good look at who Jesus chooses to carry out his work: fishermen, tax-collectors, out-casts of every kind, ordinary folk -for all we know, untrained people, empowering them to do his work in the world. It’s such an amazing thing; Jesus calls ordinary people like you and me to do the work of bringing about the kingdom of God. Many people believe in Jesus, have confidence in his actions and in his leadership. After 3000 years of Christianity it’s certain that Jesus of Nazareth was someone who people admired and were deeply drawn to and affected by. Even in the midst of 21st century theological developments Jesus remains as a remarkable teacher, healer and prophet. The problem is not that we don’t believe in Jesus.

Willimon says that, rather, we are the problem with Jesus.

People may believe in Jesus but they have difficulty believing that Jesus believes in us! They like Jesus, but they don’t particularly care for those whom Jesus loves – the church, his contemporary 12 disciples. If Jesus is so great and wonderful, how come he picks losers like us to do his work? That’s what they want to know.

Another poem of Rilke’s reads:

Your first word of all was light.
And time began. Then for long you were silent.
Your second word was man, and fear began,
which grips us still.
Are you about to speak again?
I don’t want to hear your third word.
Sometimes I pray: Please don’t talk.
Let all your doing be by gesture only.
Go on writing in faces and stone
what your silence means.
Be our refuge from the wrath
that drove us out of paradise.
Be our shepherd, but never call us-
we can’t bear to know what’s ahead.
Rainer Maria Rilke

Be our shepherd, but never call us. We know that we need and want someone to lead us; someone to demonstrate the Way for us. But we can’t bear to know what’s ahead...There were times, we know, that Jesus couldn’t bear to know what’s ahead. For him it was taunting, an unjust trial and a brutal and torturous death like a criminal. How he must have wanted to evade that future. But he didn’t. He didn’t because everywhere he looked he met suffering, sickness and death. He could not turn a blind eye.

Called, just like the disciples we too, want to run away. As Rilke says, Be our shepherd, but never call us-

We have our own concerns, our own needs; how can we find the time, the energy, the money to help?

But, Jesus believes in us. Can you believe it? You can believe in Jesus but can you believe that he believes so much in you? We are the only body that the Risen Christ has, the only plan God has.

What is remarkable is that the 12 responded to Jesus’ call. They had the benefit of knowing Jesus personally. His was their friend and teacher. It is equally remarkable that hundreds of thousands of people have responded over the centuries past. Ordinary people, our ancestors in faith. They stepped up and served their church in a myriad of ways. That’s what we are: servants. And its an honourable job. Willimon tells the story of a recent church visit:

I visited at a large church the other day. It was a beautiful building with a beautiful and inspiring entrance into the church. Walking in, I looked down at a beautifully carved granite plaque that had been placed in the sidewalk leading into the front door. The sign said, `Servants entrance’.

The word, “apostles” means “sent out”. The first apostles were sent out to live in community taking nothing with them. Their task was to share the “good news” of Jesus gospel; to comfort and heal those who suffering; to grieve with those who had suffered losses and to rejoice with those in their joy. That’s all the job entails. We don’t need to fear the “Call’ to discipleship. As our Creed reminds us:

God is with us
We are not alone,
Thanks be to God.

Preached by Erin Shoemaker
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan