Fourth Sunday of Easter

The Rev. Rob Fisher

St. Dunstan’s Church, Carmel Valley

Texts: Acts 9:36-43; Psalm 23; Revelation 7:9-17; John 10:22-30

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit – Amen.

A few nights ago, I was putting our daughter Zoe to bed.  When I had finished reading her the customary three books—our nightly ritual—it was time to turn the lights out and rock her in the rocking chair before setting her into her bed.

Just before flipping out the lights, Sarah came into the room to say goodnight.  As she opened the door, our gregarious Siamese cat, whose name is Sam, trotted into the room and just stood there in the middle of the room, purring and looking around.

Sarah stood in the doorway and called to the cat: “Sammy, come!  Come here, Sammy!”

Sam of course just stood there, looking at her.

What’s wrong with this picture?

Sarah has had our two cats, Sam and Cleo, for nearly ten years now, but she grew up with dogs and old customs remain.

Being a cat, Sam did not understand the concept of coming when called.

We all laughed as she scooped him up and whisked him out of the room.

***

I wonder if God looks at his children, and feels a little bit like one who herds cats

God calls to us, and so rarely do we come when called.

As the Psalmist says, “O that today we would hearken to his voice!”

In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of us as sheep and of himself as the shepherd.

He says, “My sheep hear my voice.  I know them, and they follow me.”

This may not be what we do all the time when we are called by God, but this is what we are meant for.

We are meant to hear the voice of the Lord when he calls out to us, to recognize his voice, and to follow.

***

Sometimes I believe we are guilty of listening with the wrong part of our bodies.

This is the case for those who claim that God does not exist because they have thought about it and can prove it, logically.  They are trying to detect God’s presence not with their ears, nor with their hearts, but with only their minds.

God does not make sense to them, and therefore God cannot exist in their opinion.

Approaching it in this way is a little like listening with your elbow.

God is not provable, but is knowable.

God is not containable, but is knowable.

And it is good news that we can know things that aren’t containable or provable!

You can’t contain the love you have for those in your life whom you love, nor can you explain it rationally, but you can know that love.  In the same way, you can’t contain God in the reason of your mind, but you can know God with the knowing of your heart.

Hearing God’s voice is like hearing the voice of your beloved.  The ear delivers the sound straight to your ear, but it does not really known until it reaches your heart, and you rejoice in the recognition of that voice.  When you hear the sound of your beloved’s voice, you find that your whole being resonates

***

In the Gospel of John Christ speaks of himself as a shepherd, saying:

“The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep….and the sheep hear his voice.  He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out…. He goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice.”

They follow because they recognize his voice.  And recognition is a form of resonance.

It is like the strings of a guitar.  Each string is tuned to a given note.  And when that same note is played in the room where a guitar is present, when that frequency is present in the air, it will cause the string to start to vibrate.  It resonates because it is tuned to the same note.

I imagine that this is like our response when we hear the voice of the shepherd who is ours.

We recognize the voice, and our hearts resonate, just like a guitar string.

We belong to this shepherd.  We know him and he knows us.  And in this case, knowing whose we are is to know who we are.

***

The Christian writer and poet Rainer Maria Rilke writes about the voices of strings being drawn together in his poem, titled “Love Song.”

How shall I hold on to my soul, so that

it does not touch yours? How shall I lift

it gently up over you on to other things?

I would so very much like to tuck it away

among long lost objects in the dark

in some quiet unknown place, somewhere

which remains motionless when your depths resound.

And yet everything which touches us, you and me,

takes us together like a single bow,

drawing out from two strings but one voice.

On which instrument are we strung?

And which violinist holds us in the hand?

O sweetest of songs.

Like the way music resonates our entire bodies, and physically links us through the vibrations in the air, the calling of God is heard from deep within us, rather than merely by our ears.  We become unified with God through the Holy Spirit, which is the breath of God, carried upon the invisible air.

When we listen to the spirit, we have to still ourselves, to relax our busyness, and to let go of our biases.  Only then will our hearts be ready to resonate as we are enfolded by the Spirit.

When we let ourselves be moved in such a way, and we listen with the deepest part of ourselves to God’s call, we will become the instruments of God’s peace.

—Amen.