Weapons of Sin
April 17, 2005 (Fourth Sunday of Easter)
By
The Very Rev. Terry White,
Dean
(From The Lectionary Page)
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
My mother was a language arts teacher and in my hometown nobody advanced from the freshmen to the sophomore year without a passing grade from Mrs. White – including her two sons. To be sure, you will hear in homilies yet to come the trials and tribulations of having a parent for teacher, just as I hope to be entertained in years to come by Tim and Rebekah extolling the perils of having a father for a priest.
But there were some advantages to having a parent for a teacher, and one such advantage surfaced at this time of year. Boys being boys, and girls being just as ornery, when warm weather settled in, squirt guns came out and came to school. And if those squirt guns went into Mrs. White’s classroom they rarely came out. For several weeks in April and May my mother would accumulate quite a cache of water pistols, and the collection was impressive.
There were the tiny ones that fit nicely in the palm of your hand and were hard to detect, thus giving the attacker the element of the surprise. At the other end of the spectrum was the large pistol, not easily hidden, but able to soak your opponent long after a tiny pistol was empty.
This was before the super-soaker bazooka-size water shooters of today, so I never enjoyed the really big size, but nonetheless I enjoyed the spoils of war. Inasmuch as my mother knew me quite well, I did not receive the confiscated items until the last day of school had ended.
Imagine such a time when getting nailed by a squirt gun was one’s biggest fear.
As we get older, weapons which frighten us change. Making someone uncomfortably wet gives way to verbal and physical attacks of various kinds. Relentless personal attacks of any kind eventually take a toll of some kind – on the victim obviously, and on the attacker often less obviously. For example, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me” sounds awfully hollow to people who have endured the disdain and hate of those who employ pejorative labels to refer to a victim’s ethnicity, skin color, sexual orientation, economic status, religion, or physical or mental challenges. If only a freshman English teacher could take away the weapons that inflict those attacks and lock them forever in her desk drawer.
From the attacks by those we can see, to the more disembodied fears created by war, economics, sickness, ended relationships, and growing older, we crave not only the days when squirts guns were our biggest fear, but days when a picture of Jesus the Good Shepherd was enough to calm our fears and ensure a good night’s sleep. It is not an easy thing to admit, but at times in my life, the Good Shepherd image has felt toothless, impossible to relate to. I would have preferred a shepherd pumped up, on natural substances of course, because that was an image of strength I could find comfort in.
Yet, the strength I most often need comes in the form of forgiveness, acceptance, justice which includes consequences for my actions, and the assurance of a sure and certain place when I can rest, feed, be healed, be inspired, and from where I am sent out to do what God would have me do- which is pretty much to give to others what I had just received.
Today’s Gospel is not about a verdant green pastoral hillside bathed in warm sunshine as the sheep feed serenely. Our Lord speaks of thieves and thugs who try to breach the sheepfold in order to harm or kill the sheep. They cannot because of the resolve of the shepherd. And when things get confused and hectic, give the sheep some credit, Jesus says. In spite of all that is whirling about, Christ’s people won’t follow just any voice -- they follow him because they know his voice.
We have all experienced knowing Jesus’ voice in the midst of turmoil. When we speak our convictions, when we do what is right, when we choose not to be safe but to do what God would have us do – it is because we hear the Shepherd’s voice.
As the Body of Christ, you and I have the baptismal responsibility to speak the voice of Jesus to the world. When people hear and see that we care, that we are committed to building a quality of life based upon respect, when we live a servants to this city, when we put into action both compassion and passion, the voice of Jesus becomes heard above the din, and other sheep find their way into the fold. Living with grace, courage, conviction, and purpose. That is what Eastertide is about.
Life begins when you see life not simply as an unexpended bit of time, a balance remaining in your savings account with dangers, chances, and fate all taking their part. Life begins when you realize that by removing the fear of death, Christ has given you, for the first time, full possession of your own life. What you have always had, you now own. [And that’s a huge difference]: what you have always had, you now own. It is yours, free, full, and clear. (Peter Gomes, Sermons, pp.76-7.) Those who were here on Easter Day will recognize those words of Peter Gomes.
Life begins for us when we realize that we possess it, but more than that, life flows into this city when we repel the thieves. A beloved hymn, the King of Love My Shepherd inspires us to follow the One whose death and resurrection has defeated the greatest thief of all. Now death is no longer an enemy, but a gate to eternal life. And we are to be gates through which people pass from rejection to acceptance, from despair into loneliness, from the ravages of strife into the peace that passes all understanding.
The story is told of a wise man among the
Native Americans in the Midwest who was asked by his grandson about
the conflict and discord in the world today. The elder reflected for
a moment and then replied, “My child, there are two dogs battling
within my heart. One is full of anger, hatred, and rage. The other
is full of love, forgiveness, and peace.”
The old man paused, and he and his grandson sat for a moment in
silence. Finally the boy spoke, “Grandfather, which dog will win the
battle in your heart? The one filled with hatred or the one filled
with love?”
The old man looked at his grandson and replied, “The one I feed will win.” (F. Hegedus, Worship That Works.)
My sisters and brothers, with hearts filled with love let us be instruments of life and health. We must fight through the many voices, the many distractions that would divert us from being more loving, forgiving, and compassionate. Our squirt guns have been replaced, and the effects of weapons tearing at our spirit can be felt, and there are times I wish that a 9th grade teacher could collect those weapons and lock them away forever in her desk drawer.
But then the Good Shepherd speaks to us: I have already destroyed the ultimate weapons of sin and death. The rest I leave up to you. Take away those weapons yourself.
May we rise to our calling. And feed the right dog.