About Ewe
Psalm 23; John 10: 11-18

May 11, 2003

When the musical and then the movie appeared of “Jesus Christ Superstar” it was a revelation and a joyous event. Andrew Lloyd Weber and Tim Rice had found a way to retell the old old story in a beautiful, dramatic, and faithful way. I still get goose bumps listening to Mary Magdalene’s “I Don’t Know How to Love Him.” There’s only one thing about which I want to quibble.

Despite his prominence in world history, Jesus is not a superstar. I know the world only considers you significant if you appear on the evening news or on the front pages of The Globe and Mail, if you establish your credentials before the academy, are interviewed by the most renowned journalists, and give lectures to university audiences. Instead of being a star, a luminary, Jesus was a shepherd and there is a rationale for why the angels appeared with the star over Bethlehem to shepherds.

A shepherd is the opposite of a superstar. A shepherd is not the kind of charismatic leader every society, every church for that matter, yearns for. He or she is someone who lays down her life for her sheep. They don’t get to talk to too many human beings, forget about all those interviews, and I don’t know whether the sheep are interested in listening.

Shepherding was considered the lowest of occupations. The fact that the angels did speak to them first in Luke and that the greatest of all kings of Israel, David, was originally a shepherd is intended to demonstrate that God does not pay attention to our socioeconomic statuses.

The church has more or less picked up on the idea and incorporated into our language. Our favourite psalm is the 23rd, “The Lord is my shepherd.” The minister or priest is a pastor watching over his flock of sheep in the fold and in the pews. We know that language.

Sheep are, however, seldom kept for pets. They have two purposes: to be fleeced for their wool, and to be slaughtered for their meat. I must admit I do like lamb and wool sweaters. Do you still want to be the flock in this congregation under those terms?

The shepherd in the Biblical sense of the occupation is someone who is willing to be fleeced for his sheep. Like David, facing lions and bears and probably not winning. Not superstar status, but infinitely more dangerous.

During World War II, a German Lutheran pastor kept his nose to the grindstone. He took care of his people faithfully and tried not to rock any boats in the troubled sea of Nazi Germany. Until near the end of the war, he preached a simple sermon in which the phrase “God is my leader” was repeated a number of times. An innocuous phrase, “the Lord is my shepherd” is a close equivalent.

But in Deutsch this phrase is “Gott ist mein Fuhrer.” Nothing neutral and pastoral about that, for there was only one Fuhrer allowed in Germany then and the meek pastor was shipped off to a concentration camp along with the Jews, Poles, Catholics, homosexuals, and sectarian Christians.

Forty per cent of all Lutherans in the United States live in Minnesota, the Lutheran Utah as it is sometimes called. There are a good many small college towns in Minnesota where it is difficult not to be a Lutheran. In one such town in the 1950’s, there was only one huge Lutheran congregation with a pastor brought straight over from Germany. The time came when the college admitted its first African-American student. Confronted by the perception that there were not a lot of black Lutherans out there, the church elders were marshaled into action and debate. The issue was a pastoral one: should they serve communion to this black student, or wouldn’t it be better if he were able to share communion with those of his own kind in a major city not too far away? How to get him there would take some coordination, for they knew that his receiving communion was important to his spiritual welfare.

A congregational meeting was called and the vote was about to be taken to defer this student’s communion elsewhere, when the pastor got up to speak. This is one of those inside church jokes: he knew what it meant to be a Herr Pastor. “If this black student is not allowed to take communion here,” he said, “then nobody will be allowed to take communion in this church, for you are all going to hell!” A pastor making sure his flock does not get lost at the risk of his being run over by all those sharp hooves. The black student received communion at that large Lutheran church. Those German pastors could certainly declare the courageous word and lay down their lives for others.

The Academy Award-winning actor Charles Lawton was once attending a dinner party in the posh area of Los Angeles. After dinner, someone asked him if he would recite something from memory. Lawton recited the 23rd Psalm with great dramatic flare. The others were awed, and got into the spirit themselves, each offering some poem or other piece from their youth. Eventually, it got around to the aunt of the hostess of the party, a stone deaf older woman. She obviously hadn’t heard all that had gone on, so she too began to recite the 23rd Psalm. Not as well either, in a halting voice she forced out the words. At first the others were embarrassed over the circumstances, but then the pathos of her voice overwhelmed those in the room and there literally was weeping.

When the aunt had finished, one of the guests turned to Lawton and said, “You recited the Psalm so well, but why is it that we are so affected by her reciting which did not come close to yours in speech?”

Lawton did not hesitate, “I know the Psalm; she knows the Shepherd.”

We are really not called to be sheep. We are summoned to be shepherds, lowly of estate, uncharismatic, willing to work without notoriety and fame, willing to sacrifice for our sheep, and willing to be fleeced. After all, you will know the real shepherd, for I walk through the valley of the shadow of death and fear no evil, for You are with me.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan