Sermon: "I heard the voice of Jesus say..." (April 21, 2013)

Easter 4C

Acts 9:36-43, Psalm 23, Rev. 7:9-17, John 10:22-30

         This was one of the weeks that it is hard to be a preacher. On Monday, a tragic bombing at a beloved sporting event kills three and injures or maims nearly 200 innocent spectators. The same day, poisoned letters are sent to the president and other government officials. The next day, attempts to reform gun laws to make it more difficult for dangerous people to get their hands on deadly weapons get defeated in the Senate, bringing up tears and more pain for the families of victims of last year’s devastating shootings. Just when you try to wrap your head around all that, and how the Word of God might speak to it, the news Thursday morning brings forth another tragedy, a sudden explosion in a little community outside Waco, Texas, again killing several, injuring over 100, and devastating this close-knit little town. Lest we forget about Monday, a violent manhunt for the bombing suspects puts Boston in lock-down for a day. Violence, destruction, danger, disappointment. These are concerns for many in the world every day, and often to a much larger extent than we experience in America, yet for so many events to hit so close to home in so short a time makes us realize our own vulnerability much more poignantly. We sang at the beginning of worship the Kyrie, which means, “Lord, have mercy,” and indeed that is our prayer this week: “Lord, have mercy!

         With all that’s happened in the past week, and the past several months, the texts assigned for today seem in some ways a cruel irony, with all their talk of comfort and God’s promise to be with us in dark valleys, and hearing the voice of Jesus and following it. Comfort? Where is that? And Jesus’ voice? Who could hear it over the sound of explosions and gunshots and people crying out?

         But then again, each of our texts, from the very well-known 23^rd Psalm, to the lesser known passages we hear from Acts and Revelation, do offer a word of comfort, if we are prepared to hear it. But hearing it is the key - see Jesus’ words in John: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” It is sometimes very hard to hear Jesus’ voice, the voice of our Good Shepherd, especially in the bustle of day-to-day life, and especially in the midst of tragedy, isn’t it? So how and where do we hear it? Sometimes in silence, or prayer, sometimes in the words of a friend… and most concretely, we hear it in Scripture. In our new member class last week we were talking about the doctrine of the Word, and what it means that we call the Bible “holy.” It is not the book itself that is holy, but rather, what it points to, what it portrays. And what, or rather who, does it portray? … Jesus! Sometimes obviously so, like in the Gospels. Sometimes less directly. But any time you read the Bible, you can think, “What is Jesus telling me in this passage? Where do I hear Jesus’ voice here?”

         So let’s ask that question today: what is Jesus’ voice saying to us this morning in our other readings? What do we hear? What might Jesus be saying to us this week? Let’s go through each reading, and you pull out your bulletins so you can follow along with each text.

          Start with Acts, and the touching story of Tabitha, or Dorcas. We hear a lot of stories in the Bible about healings, and even multiple of people being brought back to life. But this one is especially tender. We know that Tabitha was devoted to acts of charity and good works, and she is in fact the only woman in the Bible to be explicitly called a disciple. When they call Peter there after she has died, did you notice what everyone, all the widows gathered there, are doing? … They are telling stories about Tabitha! The widows are showing the tunics she had made for them, some of the most vulnerable people in society. Tabitha had cared for them, and in the wake of her death, they remember her for her love, for her commitment to service. It’s not unlike what we do when people die today, is it? One of the great blessings of being a pastor is planning funerals with people, and hearing all the wonderful stories about their deceased loved one. Suddenly, there in my office, the deceased comes alive again in a new way, as people laugh and smile and remember. In the story from Acts, Peter comes and brings Tabitha physically back to life, an action by which many come to believe, but we can see that she was already alive – she was alive by means of her remembered ministry to the vulnerable in society.

         What does the voice of Jesus say to us in this tender interaction? What do you hear? What I hear is that the love you show to the weak and vulnerable matters. Perhaps it was a small task for Tabitha to make those tunics, but to these widows, it meant everything. We have no way to know what one small act we perform in the name of Christ might mean to someone else. I was so touched in the stories about the Boston Marathon bombing to hear about people running toward the chaos, about runners who, after running 26 miles, kept running two more miles to the hospital to give blood, about strangers comforting strangers in their pain. Perhaps such bravery and tenderness felt natural in the moment to those folks, but I’m sure for the recipients of their care, those actions meant everything to them. That is what I hear the voice of Jesus saying in this passage: the love you show to others matters deeply.

         Our second reading is from Revelation… which I admit is a difficult book to get a hold of at times, with its strange imagery and symbolism. So let’s break it down a bit. The first part is one unit, the main point of which is that God is all-powerful, and always wins. “The Lamb” refers to Jesus, because he sacrificed his life for us as lambs were often sacrificial animals. Because of what Jesus did, God is worthy to be praised. So all these people are gathered to worship God and the Lamb, singing praise to in a loud voice because of all that God has done for us. Then in the second part you get this shift, this question and answer piece, and it is here that I start to hear the voice of Jesus speaking to us this week. These gathered, says the elder, are those who have come out of the “big ordeal” – a great tribulation, a struggle. And what is the promise at the other end? See there in those last two verses: “They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” Beautiful! A promise, that through your struggles, whatever they may be: Jesus the Lamb will be your shepherd, guiding you not toward vengeance, or violence, or anger – though certainly all of those might be natural inclinations – but rather, toward water, toward life. Even as we feel anger and sadness about our current ordeal, whatever it may be, Jesus promises to lead us, and to wipe away our tears.

         And that brings us of course to the 23^rd Psalm, one of the best-loved passages in all of Scripture. The voice of Jesus can be heard in so many ways in this Psalm: the promise to lead us and provide for us everything we need, even to the point that our “cup runneth over” with goodness; the promise to be with us in our darkest valleys, whatever and whenever they may be; the persistent promise of comfort and protection. The part where I most distinctly hear Jesus’ voice, at least this time around, is in the last verse: “surely goodness and mercy shall follow me.” That word that is translated here as “follow” is more often translated as “pursue,” and except for this one instance, it refers to enemies – as in, my enemies pursue me. It sounds relentless, doesn’t it? Enemies, dangers, violence, destruction, unfairness, anger – these things do seem to pursue us at times, catching us at every turn. But even as these evils pursue… so does that goodness and mercy of the Lord, keeping pace and in the end, beating out the darkness and leading us into the light. Surely goodness and mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life, never leaving me alone, never leaving me to fend for myself, never leaving me to wipe my own tears.

         Because of mercy and goodness’s endless pursuit of us and our lives, all those other things Jesus’ voice says become possible: we are able, with Tabitha, to live lives that show our faith and dedication to a God of love; we are able, with those gathered at the throne of the Lamb, to trust that God will lead us to safety from pain and toward waters of life, and will wipe away our tears; and we are able, with the Psalmist, to believe that with God as our shepherd, we do indeed have all that we need.

Let us pray. God our Good Shepherd, you speak to us when we are in dark valleys, as well as when we are by still waters. Help us always to hear your voice and not only to hear it, but also to believe it. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.