“The Work of a Sheep”

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

July 21, 2024

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Children’s Message:

Who here takes naps? (same to congregation) I take a nap nearly every Sunday afternoon. And sometimes, I even nap during the week. Shhh. Did you know there are places in the world where everyone takes a rest after lunch? It’s not just for Kindergarten—it’s for everyone! To you, rest probably feels boring. To me, rest is the only way I can keep going.

Jesus wants us to rest because he knows we need it. We need it so that we can continue to love and serve him and the people around us. So, what is your favorite way to rest—even if it isn’t sleeping? What’s your favorite way to restore your energy? Or your favorite place to go on vacation?

I hope you get lots of rest this summer—rest and play and joy and silliness. So that you’re ready for school in a few weeks. And so that you’re ready to keep showing people God’s love.

Let’s pray. Dear God, thank you for our rest and thank you for our work. Help us remember that both are important. Amen.

Message:

They were like sheep without a shepherd. Sheep herding has been in existence for thousands of years. Shepherds now, just as in first century Israel, have an extensive job. They move the herds so that they don’t deplete the foliage in one area. They make sure they have access to clean water. They shear and milk the sheep to provide for the lives of themselves and their neighbors. They provide care when lambing or when sheep become sick. And, probably most importantly, they protect sheep from predators.

David’s skill with a slingshot was used not just to redirect his sheep but to help ward off predators who would destroy them. Shepherding, then, is an analogy Jesus uses frequently when talking about his role among the people. His sheep know his voice. He knows his sheep by name. He is the good shepherd. He will leave the flock to find the lost sheep. And he will gather his sheep from other pastures so that his flock will become one.

But what happens when sheep go untended? What happens to sheep without a shepherd?

You all probably know that I get into FaceBook arguments once in a while. It’s such a waste of time, but I get so angry at some of the things I see posted by friends and family. I don’t remember what the argument was about, but a high school classmate of mine responded to my disagreement by calling me a sheep. I could only laugh at the irony as I thought about how he, too, seemed to be following a leader without thinking for himself.

He used the term as derogatory. When actual arguments can’t be made, people turn to name-calling. And it seems ‘sheep’ is one of those ugly names. But is it ugly? Is it derogatory? Are we not sheep, needing the protection of a good shepherd?

Jesus looks at the crowds that have gathered around him. The people who have chased him down in desperation. He recognizes their sense of loss and suffering and longing. And he has compassion for them. Compassion, not pity. Pity can be experienced from afar. But Jesus feels their pain alongside them, right down in his gut. His heart breaks for them. It is visceral.

Their pain comes from being led astray. It comes from being left behind. It comes from being left unguarded from predators. He doesn’t shame them for their lostness. He begins to teach.

Now, our lectionary skips over the next two stories. We’ll pick them up, in a fashion, later. Jesus sits them down and teaches as the day passes. And as he wearies and sees their hunger, he tells the disciples to feed them. In one of the most famous miracles—the only one recorded in all four gospels—he takes the little food available, blesses it, and feeds the people. More than 5,000 people. He fed their souls. He fed their bodies. He became their shepherd. He offered them protection from those who would want to hurt them.

After they have all eaten and rested, they disperse, and Jesus sends the disciples to another location in a boat while he rests and prays and regroups. As the storm comes up, he walks across the water to join them, stilling the storm and leaving them speechless. Even after their amazing mission, after healings and teachings, after feeding thousands with a little bread and fish, they still can’t believe their eyes. They can’t believe their bodies. They can’t believe their shepherd.

As they land, more people seek out Jesus. Like the woman healed from her hemorrhaging whom we read about one chapter earlier, the people know they only need to touch the edge of Jesus’ garment to be made well. Like sheep without a shepherd, they long to be led. They long to be protected. They long to be loved—even when that love is unbelievable.

We are sheep. That is not a bad thing. The truth is, we are ill-suited to protect ourselves. We have a tendency to wander off and become lost. We need a shepherd—one who guides us, who teaches us, who helps us access what we need, who protects us from predators. We put our trust in our shepherd. This is how sheep survive. It doesn’t mean we are mindless or naïve or foolish. It does mean that who we choose to follow makes all the difference in the world.

There is only one good shepherd. This good shepherd welcomes, invites, embraces everyone. All the sheep. The wounded and the weak. The unbelieving and the disbelieving. The black and brown and blue and pink and purple and rainbow sheep. The sheep who have not yet heard the voice of the shepherd and the sheep who have forgotten what his voice sounds like. The sheep who have long been part of the fold and those who are just beginning to trust. Even the sheep who have pretended to be in charge, who have divided the fold, who have turned some away. The good shepherd’s pasture is open to us all.

Because sheep without a good shepherd are vulnerable to those who prey on their fears and their shame and their anger. Make no mistake, my friends, the world is full of false shepherds. It always has been. The landscape of society is nothing new. The false shepherds will try to convince us that some sheep will spoil the whole flock. They will try to convince us that it’s our job to protect the shepherd and protect the flock through shame, bullying, and violence. Through name-calling and exclusion and oppression.

God doesn’t need our protection. God wants our trust and our love. God doesn’t need us to make others comply with our religion. Because that’s not faith. God doesn’t need us to build walls to keep people out when God is the gate that lets people in. God doesn’t need us to decide which of us is worthy of food, of shelter, of life. God doesn’t need us to usher in God’s kingdom—not in this nation, not in this church, not in this world. That is not our job. That is Jesus’ job. He is the good shepherd, and we are the sheep. Our job is to rest in his promise—and to love God and love neighbor. Period.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE