EASTER 4:2008 In the year 165 BC a miracle occurred. The mighty army of Syria swept across much of the Middle East conquering one nation after another. Among them was the little kingdom of Israel. Antiochus Epiphanies IV claimed the throne and set about erecting a pagan idol in the Jewish Temple. He sacrificed pigs on the high altar. The Jews were outraged and rose up in rebellion. Their leader was an otherwise unknown by the name of Judas Maccabeaus. The miracle was that they were successful! They overthrew the Syrians and enjoyed a brief period of freedom. The rededicated the Temple and purified the high altar in a Feast of Lights, which we know as Hanukkah. In the Gospel for today it is December and Jesus is in the Temple to celebrate Hanukkah. A crowd of religious leaders surrounds him and demands to know if he is the Messiah. It’s a question that falls into the category of “have you stopped beating your wife?” if he says, “Yes” they will want him to lead a revolution against the Romans just as the Maccabees did 200 years earlier. If he says “No” he has betrayed himself and turned the people against him. What he does instead, is interject the metaphor of “Shepherd” to identify himself. The image of shepherd is lost in our culture as it is in most industrialized societies. How many shepherds do you know? For that matter, how much contact have you had with sheep outside a petting zoo? Nevertheless, in a great part of the world shepherds are still plentiful. One morning about ten years ago, while studying at St. George’s College in Jerusalem, I decided to experience the desert wilderness. I hiked into the area between Jerusalem and Jericho and found a rock outcropping that provided some shade and I settled down to meditate. As the sun came up I noticed a lone figure across the valley floor. He was a Bedouin shepherd. As I watched he removed brush and rocks from the entrance of two caves and began calling. Out came the sheep that had spent the night in the caves. He began walking out of the valley whistling and calling his sheep and they dutifully followed him. I couldn’t help but recall those great Biblical figures of Abraham and Isaac and Moses and David, all of which were shepherds. As I watched that shepherd I recalled those words of Jesus in this tenth chapter of John’s Gospel. “The shepherd calls his sheep and they know his voice and he knows them and they follow him.” Look at the verb he uses. The Shepherd knows his sheep. The shepherd knows the sheep so well that he names them. There’s old “hardhead” and that one over there is “wanderer” and the little one over there is “runt”. He knows all about them, their good points and their bad, but they belong to him. When he speaks their name they listen because he is the one who has given them the name in the first place. There is that peculiar bond of knowing and yet caring. There is much about ourselves that we do not retail to the public. In fact, we spend a great deal of time, energy and cosmetic creativity in marketing what we want others to see. Most of us believe that if we present ourselves as knowledgeable and successful and attractive, people won’t know the truth about us. Frank Sayre, the former Dean of the National Cathedral, once described Lyndon Johnson as a beautiful southern mansion whose structure was eaten up with termites! At the beginning of every Eucharist we say that wonderful prayer of revealed truth, “Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open and all desires are known…” You see, we are already known and it’s OK. It’s OK because we belong to the shepherd. “The Shepherd calls his sheep by name and they hear his voice and follow him.” Unfortunately, you and I hear other voices as well. I hear the voice of my father who tells me to “Grow up! Stand on your own two feet! Be independent!” That doesn’t make for a very compliant sheep. Or what about the voice that whispers in your ear that you’re not good enough. You know all those things that you have done, or not done as the case may be, that make you so unworthy. Too many of us grow up with the notion that the most interesting thing about us is our sin. We all hear those voices that try to drown out the one that says, “You belong to me – warts and all!” Listen for that voice! That’s the voice that can drown out all the others. That’s the voice that counts! Do you believe it? Can you believe it? Jesus tells the crowd in the Temple that they don’t believe because they do not belong to his sheep. When I was the Rector at St. Margaret’s parish in Carrollton I would often have Susan Hayward turn up for a service. She would always arrive late, wearing sunglasses, and slip out during the final hymn. One day I asked her why she did that. She said, “I don’t want to be conspicuous, but mostly it has to do with not belonging. I can’t belong to my husband’s church because of divorce and I’m not an Episcopalian. I don’t belong anywhere.” You see, most of us are convinced that we have to first believe in order to belong. The truth is exactly the opposite – you belong in order to believe. If you’ve come here this morning not sure about whether you believe this doctrine or that assertion, welcome to the flock. If you’ve come here with the shakiest of faith on the block, welcome. If you’ve come here with your pathetic little bag of garbage, then drag it on in and take a seat. You see, you’re in the right place. This is where you belong. You see, they shepherd already knows all about you and he calls you by name. So Mary or John, or Phillip, come on in because you really do belong and in time, you will believe. Amen.