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The Cross A Pasture

Easter 4, Year B : 29 April 2012 : John 10: 11-18

When you look around our collection of stained glass windows, sure enough, there is one devoted to sheep. On closer inspection it turns out to be of Jesus as the good shepherd, which must be one of the most popular and familiar subjects of religious iconography in New Zealand churches. Given the pastoral image we have had of ourselves as a nation up until recently I guess it was an inevitable choice of subject. Usually Jesus is depicted in these windows in a mild and benign form, often as the friend of children. Sometimes these images border on the sentimental.

Which is odd given the ambiguous resonances that the image of shepherd has in our culture. Our most famous shepherd was James Mackenzie, the rustler who skilfully deprived South Canterbury pastoralists of many of their flocks. His superhuman strength, famous dog, and jailbreaks made him a folk hero, particularly to those on the margins of colonial society. Maybe the authorities got him in the end, but he is remembered forever with a vast swathe of rural landscape named after him. Here the New Zealand army often gathered on a regular basis as its preferred exercise ground for firing its artillery and manoeuvring its armoured vehicles.

That is what is missing from those Victorian images of Jesus with a lamb in his arms. It is an image of power, and of power rooted in paradox.

There was a book around in the 1970’s with a title I couldn’t stop thinking about -The Cross a Pasture. Two such paradoxical images jammed together. What was the author trying to get at?

Reflecting on today’s gospel passage has carried me some way into the meaning. Jesus, the risen one, is the Lord of our lives. Having taken his seat at the right hand of the Father he rules over the Church. He cares about what happens to every gospel community. He is vitally interested in what is happening in the lives of each one of us.

But this leadership and authority is rooted in sacrifice. By giving his life away on the cross he opened up for us the pasture ground where we may find refreshment and sustenance. The gift of community that we have received has come at a cost. Jesus did for us what we could not do for ourselves. He was glad to make this sacrifice.

It was a powerful thing he did. He somehow changed the very structure of reality. The cross, the empty tomb, the appearance to the disciples in the upper room - these show that humankind has taken a quantum leap forward in its possibilities of relationship with the ground, source and goal of Being. He has opened up for us the possibility of life together.

What is more the ground, source and goal of Being has a personal relationship with us. The Shepherd calls us by name, just as he did Mary Magdalene in the garden. He calls us out beyond our comfort zone with the kind of reassurance that we need when it seems that the world has become full of pain and fear.

Something else that the Shepherd image opens up is the nature of God’s power in the world. He works by gentleness, the follow through to that personal knowledge of us. The soft touch, the way of invitation, the courteous, gracious love that draws and attracts.

But paradox resides in this truth also. In describing himself as the Good Shepherd, Jesus draws on the 34th chapter of Ezekiel where God defines his role of Shepherd over Israel as that of ruler who judges between sheep and sheep so as to protect the weak. On the front cover of this morning’s Pebble I have quoted from verses 25 to 31 of that chapter, which describe in moving terms the pastoral bliss and abundant life of the flock that God shepherds. But this is the end result of a painful exercise in judgement and the removal of the false shepherds of Israel, those who took care only of themselves, and who exploited the flock for their own ends. For any who exercise authority over the household of God there is much to reflect on here about the high standards of accountability that they will be held to.

It is also a reminder that the burdens of leadership cannot be avoided, nor hard decisions dodged. Authority must be exercised, even in the Church, since the invisible God requires flesh and blood symbolic leaders to fill in for him in every generation. Those who get ordained thinking that the role only entails taking Services, preaching sermons, and doing the visiting, have a surprise in store for them - they must exercise leadership also. Folly must be discouraged, malice checked, wise choices made about which direction in which to take the community. Those who know the flock on a name-by-name relationship and on a day-by-day basis cannot shirk the need to make decisions about the well being of the flock, and sometimes they are difficult decisions.

Lastly, that image of Shepherd is one of powerful reassurance about our eternal destiny. Perhaps the most appropriate companion image to all those stained glass windows of Christ the Good Shepherd would be the icon of Christ the Pantocrator who looks down in stern and calm authority from the roof of Eastern Orthodox churches. Pantocrator means "Lord of all," or "Lord of the universe."

In these icons Christ often has an open book in his left hand with a text appropriate to that congregation, while his right hand is raised in an image of teaching authority. On the wall of my kitchen there is such an icon, which was given to me at Westcott house, Cambridge last year, a copy of the larger one that is on the east wall of the ordinand’s chapel. The text reads, "You have not chosen me, I have chosen you." It is a daily reminder of the privilege of being a priest, which no one can ever presume to want for themselves, but only comes by God’s invitation.

But the Pantocrator image is a reminder also that Christ isn’t just Lord of the Church, which he judges and rules from the right hand of the Father. He is also the Lord of history, the one who will have the last word on the human story, who will bring justice at the last by judging evildoers who have brought misery to the human race, and who will raise up and vindicate the wronged, and who will honour and glorify the unsung champions of righteousness. Tyrants, torturers and crooks watch out.

Yet the image speaks to us also of Christ’s sure guidance, guarding and shepherding of our slow growth to Christian maturity that will lead to our homecoming into the barns of eternity. He has his eye on our long-term goal and arrival point to be with our loving heavenly father. He knows what he is about, he has us in hand, and he will lead us home.