May 6, 2001
Fourth Sunday of Easter

The Voice I Know

You remember the story well. You've heard about shepherds from those early days when you memorized the 23rd Psalm. You know that the shepherd was critical for the protection, the guidance of the sheep. I know you've been told over and over again in Sunday School Classes and in sermons about the ways in which shepherds at nighttime would sometimes gather the sheep together into a corral made of stones. They would very literally become, for the sheep, the gate to the place where the sheep were kept safe. Sleeping in the opening so that no one could come in or come out. Sometimes, all the scholars tell us, there were times where more that one shepherd would bring a flock to that place. The next day, in order to sort out all of those sheep, the shepherd would call out and the sheep, having developed a trusting relationship with that shepherd, would respond to the one voice, hear it, and follow their shepherd. Not one of the other shepherds, but only their own shepherd.

Most often, when I talk with you, I Eke to stress the ways in which God addresses us as a congregation, as a people of God. Certainly we are God's flock. But as individuals we are also God's sheep, and we respond to the voice of God. To the call of Jesus, not only corporately as a congregation, but also as individuals in our lives. As I was thinking about this passage that I have preached on many times before, the question that came to my mind was, "What is the voice that I hear? What is the voice that I follow?" go I share that voice with you this day, hoping that it will prompt some thin-king on your part about the particular ways in which Jesus is your shepherd, in which you hear the voice of God calling to you in your life.

The earliest times that I can remember dealing with the questions about the presence of God and the meaning of life, was probably in those single digit years. I remember trying to comprehend a world in which there was no God. That is a pretty abstract idea. As I tried to play out what it meant, I wondered, what if something happened to our planet? What if something caused the planet to disintegrate? To blow up? To burn up? Would there be something left after that? If there was no God, there would be nothing left. Not only would there be nothing at all left, but there would be no one to remember all of us. No one to remember human history. No one to remember the things that happened on this planet. The more I tried to comprehend the void, emptiness, the scarier it became for me. In the middle of all of that, I came to the affirmation that there was something beyond all the material world. Something that was lasting. Something that was God. In that existential struggle I heard the voice of God saying, "You are not alone."

I went to Sunday school from before the time that I can remember. I went to the Sunday school classes, joined together in the singing with all the adults beforehand. I remember my Sunday school teacher and I still remember, in second or third grade, learning the books of the Bible, with the help of a tune that I now lose half way through. I want to share it with you today, hoping that maybe you'll remember some things that you learned when you were only so high. Or maybe some of you know the rest of the tune and can re-teach me so that I can put the rest of the Hebrew testament back together. It went, "Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Ruth, and first and second Samuel. First and second Kings. First and Second Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah. Esther, Job, the Psalms, and Proverbs. Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon. And there it tapers off. Any of you know the rest of the tune? No? But I remember those days. I remember enjoying Sunday school and I heard the voice of God saying, "You are loved."

Beginning in sixth grade, summertime also meant a week at church camp. Camp Tamarack was the name of the church in North Central Wisconsin. The sandy area resort part of the state. A small lake at the bottom of a hill. The cabins perched along the hill side. Every year I looked forward to going to that church camp. Looked forward to that experience, in part because it gave me an opportunity to be in a community that would accept me for who I was, not who I had been, or what they thought about me. At camp I was not judged by opinions developed in school over the years. I could come to this place and be accepted in a community, for who I was. That was a powerful thing. I could also join together with all of those people in reading Scripture, in worship, in playing games, swimming, and taking hikes. The sense of community was so strong that each year, when the time came for me go back home I grieved that experience for a couple of weeks before I was able to get back into daily routines. In those times at church camp, the voice of God spoke to me saying, "You belong."

When Cindy and I got married, we had a variety of pieces that we pulled together for our worship service. Cindy grew up in the Catholic Church, Catholic grade school, and Catholic girls high school. It was appropriate to find a priest that could be involved in our wedding service. I also wanted to include the minister from my home church. We decided to have the service in the United Church of Christ church building. We had not only a priest and a minister officiating, but also invited some seminary friends of mine to participate in the service, some friends of Cindy's to share in some readings. We had people from a variety of backgrounds, young and old. We had people from the Muslim faith and the Jewish faith and the Christian faith. Ecumenical and interfaith. People from different countries, different races. As I reflect on it now after these 25 years, it is still a surprise to me, the gathering that we brought together. Now, because we were not in a Catholic Church, we were not able to have a communion service. The priest was not allowed to consecrate elements. But tradition also provides an opportunity to share in something called an agape feast. In the Scriptures there are places where you can read that people gathered for a meal without it having the sacramental quality to it. At our wedding service we had both grape juice and bread and people were invited to come forward and share. They did it as part of the community that day. All those who were gathered from different faiths, from different backgrounds, all came together to share in that meal. As we gathered together the voice of God spoke clearly to me saying, "All are welcome."

The first church that I served was a small church outside of Council Bluffs, Iowa, across the Missouri River from Omaha, Nebraska. There was a farm couple that became our early friends. Vi and Orville were the ones that hosted us when I went to interview with that congregation. They came up to Milwaukee for my ordination. We enjoyed spending time and talking with them. I had not been at that church very long, little more that six months, when Orville died suddenly in the middle of the night. Vi called me at two or three in the morning and said, "Orville has just died. Will you come?" So I went to the house, not knowing what I was going to say, or what I was going to do, but knowing that I was needed there as a minister and as a pastor. In the days that followed, we planned Orville's service. His four sons, all growing up on that farm and working with their father, gathered around with their circle of acquaintances, all the people who had loved Orville and knew his family for all of the years that they had lived in that area. They were some of the German settlers that had come up in the 1860's to settle in that area. We shared together in a jam packed church with overflow crowd, down in the basement of the church and in the Fellowship Hall next door. Then the pall bearers carried the casket downstairs as I led the procession out into the graveyard behind the church, and stood in my pulpit robe in 10' below zero. I spoke the words of faith. That death would not be the final victor. That God's power and God's love could overcome all things. In that experience, God's voice spoke to me, saying, "We are all woven together."

Now in these experiences that I have shared, I haven't said a whole lot about Jesus the good shepherd. But if there was a weaving, a tapestry that has been shaped in all these experiences, then Jesus has been the warp. Up and down, thorough out the whole weaving. What I know of God, I have learned primarily through what I have read and what I have prayed and what I have experienced about Jesus and his life. I have said often to you that if I were to find God's truth revealed in the Buddhist faith, or Hindu faith, that I would never leave where I have been and go and become a Buddhist or a Hindu, or Unitarian, or Muslim or a Jew. In all those things I would carry with me what I have learned. The nurture that I have received from the church. The sense of belonging, the voice of God that has come to me as a Christian. As a follower of Jesus. You know also that I do believe that God speaks to humans in many different ways. The Truth of God is revealed, I believe, in all those world faiths. But whatever I learn from any other people, will only add to what I know already as a Christian. If I were to become caught up in one of those other faiths, I would always be a hybrid. I would be a Christian-Unitarian, or a Christian-Buddhist, or a Christian-Muslim. The voice that I have heard has been the voice of the Shepherd, the voice of Jesus, the voice of God, speaking through the Christian faith. I pray that you will spend some prayerful time considering how the Good Shepherd has spoken in your life. How God has called to you. How that affects both who you are and who you are called to be. We give thanks for the Spirit of God moving in our lives. Amen.