Easter 4 Year B

What are you willing to die for?

John 10:11-18

We have all heard people speak of dying for a cause. . . dying for freedom . . . dying to protect rights . . . dying for the constitution. We’ve even heard people say they would die for a piece of that cheesecake.

But Jesus comes along and tells us in the 10^th Chapter of the Gospel of John, through one of the most stunning metaphors in all of the Bible, that he would be willing to die for a bleating, noisy, stubborn, dependent, greasy – and – shall we say – significantly malodorous flock of sheep.

It might actually boggle the imagination if it weren’t for the fact that Jesus’ entire life and ministry was centered firmly in affirming the great worth of every individual, especially those that righteous people might be willing to toss aside as less than worthy. There were no tiers or levels in Jesus’ evaluation of our worth. 

Jesus asks us to forgive the unforgiven because there are no people that are not forgivable. Jesus asks us to love the unlovable because, as hard as it might be to believe, there are no unlovable people in God’s eyes. 

He asks us to accept the unacceptable because, in fact, when it comes to God, there is no one who is finally unacceptable. It’s like Jesus is asking in this parable of the Good Shepherd, What part of love your enemies do you not understand?.

Now I preach and write about this radically inclusive God and Christ all the time, and I pat myself on the back for having such wonderful insight into the challenging nature of the Gospel. I hope that most of you feel pretty good about it because it makes sense, and it really does seem to be what Jesus wants.

But is that enough?

John Dominic Crossan, a great biblical scholar, and one of my heros, has literally unearthed a Jesus that is so radically embracing of humanity as to render him nearly impossible to follow fully. Crossan wrote an article in the Christmas 1991 issue of the Christian Century.

In this article, he included an imaginary discussion that he had with Jesus about his most famous book on Jesus that clearly showed Jesus to be a radical peasant revolutionary who knew no boundaries between the sacred and secular, the clean and unclean; between woman and man, social elites and social outcasts; saints and sinners, insiders and outsiders; they were all blurred over so badly as to be unusable.

And Jesus says to Crossan, I’ve read your book, Dominic, and it’s quite good. So now you are ready to live by my vision and join me in my program?

Crossan responds, I don’t think I have the courage, Jesus, but I did describe it quite well didn’t I, and the method used was especially good wasn’t it?

Thank you, Dominic, for not falsifying the message to suit your own incapacity. That, at least, is something.

Is it enough Jesus?

No, Dominic, it is not.

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I guess that before I pat myself on the back for, once again, being true in my description of Jesus’ mission, I had better realize that it isn’t enough to write about it or preach a sermon about it, or to listen about it and agree with it.

I had better at least try to forgive someone I’d rather not forgive. . . someone I especially can’t forgive. I had better actually love someone who couldn’t be any more unlovable.

I had better embrace someone who couldn’t be any less acceptable, because according to the Good Shepherd, those are our describers and limiters – Not God’s.

And we would probably do well to remember that nowhere does Jesus say,Tolerate your neighbor. Jesus says, Love your neighbor.

I had better be able to actually do all of those things; otherwise, I’d probably be better off taking up golf on Sunday mornings.

I talk and write about inclusivity and universal love all the time, and you digest the message ever so patiently all the time, but I’m not sure that’s enough.

I am reminded of the little girl who was working very hard and could not be induced to stop and rest. This was before the invention of the electric light.

When asked, Why do you not stop and rest? 

She replied, I have just one little candle, and it will soon be burned out. I wish to do what I can while the candle burns.

I suppose this could be a metaphor for our day. I suppose we are called to actually do as much as we can for people for whom we’d rather do nothing. We have a short candle and a long way to go.

Jesus isn’t asking us to die for a cause or the constitution. Jesus isn’t asking us to die for a cause or a concept, or even for that last piece of cheesecake. 

Jesus is asking us to die to that part of ourselves that just can’t bear to tear down another beloved boundary.

Jesus is asking us to die to that part of ourselves that says there are just some people I won’t accept, and, WORSE YET, that I know God won’t accept either.

Someone estimated that our bodies are worth more than 46 million dollars when broken down into usable fluids, tissues and infection fighting ability.

But Jesus isn’t asking us to die for bone marrow, livers and a few thousand white blood cells that fight infection. . . he’s asking us to die for lives… real lives upon which God has placed an intestimable value. Real lives that hurt and laugh and share; and love and cry and get excited; and grow disappointed… real lives that go astray like sheep, and smell just as foul. . . in more ways than one.

I preach and write this a lot Lord, That’s a good thing isn’t it?

It’s a good beginning, Bill.

But it’s still not enough, is it?

No, Bill, It’s not enough!