- John 10: 22-30

One of the classical images for Jesus is the Good Shepherd. Jesus is the shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep. He is the risk-taker whose extravagant love seeks out the one lost sheep. He leads the flock beside still waters, restores souls and knows every one of his flock by name.

All this leaves us with warm and fuzzy feelings, except that if there is a shepherd then there must be a flock of sheep. The wisdom of comparing congregations to sheep may be questionable these days because most of us suspect that sheep aren't the most flattering animal metaphor. Sheep have an image problem. They are believed to be mindless and generally devote their lives to one of two purposes: getting sheared or making one-inch thick lamb chops medium rare grilled just perfectly!

Your may be surprised to know that one of your pastors actually has some first-hand experience with sheep. That would be me. They're not mindless. During my senior year in college I had a job at a veterinary research laboratory. One experiment had something to do with liver flukes in sheep little flat worms. I wish I could tell you about my hidden scientific talent, but this part of my former life had nothing to with working in a laboratory with microscopes, arcane tests and publishing research papers. I was on the lower end of the food chain, which meant that one of my jobs on the weekends in January and February (that would be winter in a state with real winters) was to wake up every hour on the hour in the middle of the night to see if any lambs had been born. Then I would have to take a blood sample before the lamb had a chance to suckle so that he (or she) would not be contaminated by some such thing from the mother sheep. In blinding snow storms and howling winds, your future pastor had to outwit some pretty wily sheep. They're tough and protective. They're loud and opinionated. Maybe the metaphor does work.

I had other jobs related to the sheep and sheep by-products, but midnight in February drawing lamb blood was the most unpleasant. During the day, I also had to herd them from one pasture to the other.

Now as I said, sheep are not stupid. The dumb sheep rap has been perpetrated by cattlemen who had a lot of rangeland at stake. Despite what the national beef council says, sheep are not dumb. With cattle you have to herd from behind, pushing, yelling and cracking a whip. Sheep don't work that way at all. If you try to get behind a herd of sheep and yell, scream and threaten, all they will do is run around behind you. Sheep can't be pushed, they prefer to be led. You push cows and lead sheep. Sheep will go a particular direction only if someone else goes that way first, namely their shepherd, who goes on ahead to show them that everything will turn out right.

Sheep also have an amazing ability to recognize the voice of their master. A particular whistle or a clap of the hand is all that is needed to say that water is up ahead or the pasture is greener on the other side or it's time to settle down for the night. Shepherds, in turn, know how to distinguish between a bleat of excitement or a bleat of pain. They know each individual sheep. Shepherds and sheep develop a secret communication among themselves.

When several flocks mingle together like when they are all brought down from the mountains to get away from impending winter storms, so that maybe a dozen smaller flocks are combined into one giant carpet of fleece, each shepherd can issue his distinctive call and the flocks will sort themselves out and follow their shepherd home.

Which is why Jesus used the shepherd/sheep metaphor in the 10th chapter of John. The story is one in a long series of controversies that Jesus has with his opponents over whether he is the Messiah, the chosen one, the deliverer of Israel.

In chapter 10, the conflict emerges during the feast of the dedication, what is now called Hanukkah. The feast celebrates the military victory of the Maccabean Jews over the Syrians in the second century before Christ. Before that victory, the Hebrews had suffered a pretty miserable time for most of six centuries under the imperial foot of one empire or the other. The Maccabean Revolt was a bright spot in Israel's history and a good reason to hold a feast. During the feast of the Dedication Israel became stoked with political electricity.

Jesus' opponents, seeking to entrap him, demand to know whether he is the Messiah. "How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly." They want a simple, straightforward answer to their question. Some are confused and lost and really can't stand ambiguity. Some are threatened politically. Some have seen more than one charlatan coming down the lane and are just plain cynical and think he might be another joke.

Jesus has tried to show them what he is about, but they just don't get it. Some have believed. Some have witnessed his work and heard his words and recognized the Christ among them. Others have looked and just don't get it.

Jesus refuses to answer their question directly. One reason is that, particularly during a feast that celebrates political liberation, he didn't want them thinking that he was claiming to be a political messiah who would suddenly marshal the forces and grind the Roman scum into the dirt.

Another reason that he refused to answer directly is that the question, itself, was the problem. Even if he had answered simply they still would not have gotten it. He had already lived among them for years teaching, preaching, and living the faith and they were still clueless. A simple, "Yes, I am the One" wouldn't have worked either. So he didn't waste his breath. He instead tells them that they are not in relationship with him and uses the metaphor of the shepherd and his sheep. "You do not believe because you do not belong to my sheep."

Why are some able to believe and some are not? I have no idea. Jesus didn't spend any time trying to figure out why some of us have a difficult time believing. In today's gospel, he simply says that he is the shepherd and that his sheep hear his voice and know him. They believe because they are his sheep. They are his sheep because they believe. The argument just goes around in a circle. "My sheep know who I am and believe and if they don't, they're not my sheep because they don't know who I am and therefore don't believe."

But believing is the hard part. It is possible that you are one of those persons who never has doubts. More power to you. I'm glad faith comes easily for you. But for many of us - for me - it's not all that easy. Take Easter, for instance, where a dead man talks, breaks out of a grave, and suddenly appears out of thin air when bread is broken. Come on. Let's admit it. Even some of the disciples who were right there witnessing his deeds had a hard time figuring out what the heck was going on. So if you sit here today struggling to believe, this Scripture lesson ought to remind you that it has been that way for a long, long time.

I think it's really easy for most of us to think that because everyone else here is in the church, praying, singing, slipping a check into the offering plate, maybe serving on a committee and saying a creed that our own doubts are the exception. We assume that everyone else believes all the time with great confidence that God is alive, that life is clearly purposeful, and that we shall never be snatched away even in the valley of the shadow of death. We assume that everyone else around us clearly hears the Shepherd's voice. But sometimes, maybe many times we don't, and we wonder if we are really in the flock.

The flocks have come down from the mountaintop and mingled all together and hearing the shepherd's voice is downright confusing. You don't know where you belong. There are so many flocks to choose from, so many choices on the religious menu. Plus life is hard and there are so many questions. Sometimes you know where to go and who to follow, but sometimes you don't. Sometimes you hear competing voices calling and you wait for that moment of recognition that you really belong, but it doesn't come. The individual flocks collect around their shepherd and move on and head home, but you are left feeling lost and wondering, "Where do I belong? Who will reach out and enfold me into their care? What do I believe?"

"You do not believe," Jesus says, "because you do not belong to my sheep." Ouch, that hurts. Most of us want to believe and all the time. We want to have clarity, comfort and peace. We want to be on the inside of the flock: confident, safe and joyful. But some times, many times, we doubt whether we really belong because we wonder whether we believe or believe enough, or believe the wrong things.

A good part of the problem are our assumptions about belief itself. We think that the true believers are always rock sure, always able to say precisely what they believe, with nary a waver, conflict or doubt. But that's not the way it is with us.

Or we may think that to everyone else worship is always a meaningful experience. That people all around us stand up and say the creed and no one crosses their fingers when we get to that part about Jesus descending into hell or some other doctrine. But that's not the way it is with us.

Or we may think that if we are really a part of the flock, then we would always be close to God. We assume that our prayer life should be constant and that there should be this perfect two-way connection between God and ourselves. We guess that everybody else in the church must have that kind of relationship, but that's not the way it is with us. We only get static and a lost connection.

We give ourselves a hard time, thinking that everyone around us, - particularly those perfect pastors - believe perfectly, without doubts, and that we with our uncertainty and confusion never can hit the high mark. Our will power is too weak. Our questions are too unorthodox. Our life is too confusing. So we place ourselves outside the flock.

"You do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep," Jesus says, but listen to what he says. He does not say we are in or out of the flock based on the strength of our belief, but just the opposite. He says that our ability to believe depends on whether we are in the flock and we are because you and I are here, woolly, bleating and wandering.

What that means is that on some days we are here and believe with confidence and other days we are here and haven't a clue about anything. Some days we feel the power of the faith surging deep within the veins and propelling us to go into the world to live compassionately, spreading hope, doing justice; other days we only can go through the motions, mumble the words, sing a note or two off key and try to live as best we can, one day, one step, one breath at a time as "though it were true."

Our belief swings hot and cold but we are in the flock not because we are always certain of who God is, but because God is certain that we belong. No doubt, no obstacle, no one can take us away from God.

Sometimes you will hear the shepherd's voice. It will be clear and strong, gentle and affirming, leading you besides still waters, restoring your soul. There may be days when you cannot hear the shepherd's voice. Sometimes there's just the pounding of your own panicked heart. Sometimes there's the noise of a hundred competing demands and temptations. Sometimes there is only silence.