LAKE JAMES

NORTH CAROLINA

Easter IV C + April 29, 2007 + St. Paul’s Church, Lake James

+ In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Today’s nickname is “Good Shepherd Sunday” because the reading from the Gospel in each of the three lectionary years refers to Jesus as a shepherd. Along with Christians of several other denominations, we Episcopalians are used to that title. Three parishes in this diocese have that as their name, the chapel of the seminary in Long Island of which I am an alumnus bears that name, as does the chapel of our friendly rival seminary in New York City. For Anglicans, the title is familiar, it’s comfortable, and I think, not particularly controversial – which, in itself, these days, is almost a rarity in the Episcopal Church!

Please indulge me for a few minute if I may seem to digress. This time of year reminds me of the death of a good friend, a priest I first met in 1952. Although he was then only in his 30s. he had been called to be rector of what we used to call “a very significant parish.” In that parish, he had two curates, one of whom was a bright young priest named Father Bill Weinhauer who later became bishop of this diocese. My friend lived in a large, gorgeous rectory with his wife and six children, and had just bought a wonderful summer home on the coast of Maine. He was a caring pastor to his flock, popular not only with his parishioners, but also with other members of the clergy and community leaders. His life seemed to be all that any priest could possibly hope for. As a college student, getting to know George gave me a good part of the role model I had of priesthood. I’m sure that, in the back of my mind, I hoped that someday I might be as fine a priest as he was. After I entered seminary, we corresponded back and forth for a while, but then, as so often happens with friends, communication faded away in the face of the many other things in which each of us was involved. That winter, I was startled to see his picture on the front page of the New York Times with a headline proclaiming “Priest excommunicates bigots!” For the next few days, the story continued to unfold in the pages of the newspaper. My friend had indeed invoked the seldom-used power of excommunication. The offenders were several of his parishioners who, as officers of an exclusive Country Club, had refused to permit a particular young man to serve as an escort of a young lady who had invited him to be her date at the traditional Christmas holiday dance held each year at that club. The reason given for vetoing her choice was that, while the girl herself was acceptable (her family were club members and Episcopalians) the boy was not, because although one of his parents was an Episcopalian, the other was Jewish. The decision, and the reasons behind it, caused great hurt, both in the parish and in the wider community.

When he learned about it, the Rector got up at the Sunday Eucharist and announced that those responsible were not welcome to receive Holy Communion until they had repented and sought forgiveness. It mattered not at all to him that the people involved were among the largest contributors to the parish. Given what they had done, they were excommunicated until they changed. The bishop of the diocese was firm in his support of the priest, and so were the editorial writers in the public press. My friend was considered to be a hero, and I was proud of him! God seemed to be smiling on this golden child and all was well.

But soon after, it was discovered that his wife had cancer, and one of their children had a different but also life-threatening disease. At the same time, a small number of parishioners who shared the bigotry of those who had been excommunicated began to cause intense strife and division in the parish. The stress of it all took its toll on George and, in a moment of depression, he abruptly resigned as rector, even though he had no other place to go. The unfairness of all that had happened was hard to take for those of us whose image of God was that of a good and loving shepherd, a God who was supposed to reward good people and punish bad ones. As a young seminarian, I struggled to cope with what had happened, and to understand where God had been, and was, in it all. However, soon after, I heard that my friend had been called to be the rector of one of the largest and most prominent parishes in the whole country! It meant relocating to Texas and the uprooting of much that had been his world, but to me, it said vindication! Reward! It felt as if God had intervened and good had won over evil! For a while, all seemed to go well, very well. His wife’s health improved, and so did that of his young son. He was in great demand as a preacher and his name began to appear on lists of nominees to be bishop in several dioceses. But then, a conflict with one of his multimillionaire parishioners threatened to split the parish, and, unwilling to let that happen, he resigned. Fortunately, he was quickly called to be rector of a fine, though smaller parish in another diocese, and, along with his many other friends, I heaved a sigh of relief. But the roller coaster ride was not over. His wife’s illness returned, and soon after, he himself was diagnosed as having an inoperable form of cancer.

I have taken all this time to share some of my friend’s ups and downs with you because I think most of us can identify with them, either in our own lives or the lives of loved ones or friends. So often, things seem to be going well in life – and then, everything goes haywire! Health, relationships, job, or other meaningful parts of life change from being positive to being horribly painful. It all seems so unfair, so wrong! It’s as if the Good Shepherd has gotten tired of us, or his attention is elsewhere, and we wonder about God. Does God really care? Are we being punished for some terrible sin? Is there really a God at all?

According to a mutual friend who was able to be with him during his last illness, George faced his death not only with dignity, but with tranquility. I learned that, until his strength failed, each day he went to the Altar to celebrate Mass, doing so with a radiance which inspired all present. He was a wonderful example to his family, friends, and parishioners, showing what it meant to be a faith-filled Christian and Priest. I don’t mean to suggest that he never had moments of being “down” or that he had suddenly become perfect. What did happen was that, strengthened by God’s grace, he trusted that he was part of Christ’s flock, that Jesus was a loving shepherd – his shepherd.

In the collect for today, we prayed that, when we hear the voice of Jesus the Good Shepherd, we may know him who calls us each by name. Not if we hear his voice, but when!

Do you believe that? Do you expect, as the collect says, that Christ will call you by name? That he will lead you so that you can follow him? That really gets to the heart of things, doesn’t it? It’s a kind of very proper Anglican translation of the question our evangelical brothers and sisters are apt to pose when they ask “Do you know Jesus?” It’s also virtually the same question we heard asked by the devout Jews in today’s Gospel, namely, “if you are the Messiah, say so plainly!”

It all boils down to the question of who Jesus is, or, perhaps more precisely, who we believe Jesus to be. Is he the eternal Son of God, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity? And, if so, is he “the Good Shepherd of humanity?” Is he concerned about us, concerned about ordinary people like you, and like me? Is he concerned enough to call us each by name, and in the many perplexing situations which we may face in life, to let us know what we should do and how? In other words, does it make sense to pray for God’s guidance, expecting that those prayers will be answered?

In preaching, I often find myself quoting a former assistant of mine, a truly insightful priest, who, after hearing the sermons of some clerics, used to ask sadly, “what was the Good News being taught in that homily? I must have missed it!” The Good News I want to share with you right now is that Jesus is “the Good Shepherd.” He is concerned with your life and mine, guiding and leading us if we will let him. Those are not just pious words, not simply the official “Christian party line” – they are true!

The Paschal candle which burns at all services during the great 50 days of Easter is a vivid reminder of the presence and power of the Risen Christ, the Christ who rose from the dead – not just for himself, but for all of humankind as well. So, today as the Church places before us the image of Jesus the Good Shepherd, let me ask you to ask yourself: “So what?” Is it all just some nice words, or - is it true?

+ In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

The Reverend Alfred T. K. Zadig, Sr.

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