April 13, 2008 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK
Acts 2:42-47 + Psalm 23 + 1 Peter 2:19-25 + John 10:1-10
This Sunday after Easter for many years ha been called: “Vocation Sunday.” It is not difficult to understand why having heard the readings for the day, but in recent years, I have heard people struggle with this opportunity because the reality of bad shepherds is no longer a remote possibility or some bad dream. You know me well enough after five years in this pulpit to know that I am not shy about the truth, make no effort to deny reality, and enjoy a good challenge now and then. On this past Friday, a Cathedral packed with people buried a Good Shepherd, and the night before, the parish church in Enid where he served as best he could in retirement was overflowing with people who recognized what a gift they had received from a faithful and gracious servant. It was not that he did all things well, but that he did them faithfully.
On Friday of this week, I will have been ordained forty years as a priest of the Archdiocese, and even though I have chosen to celebrate that with you in early June when our lives are less hectic with graduations, confirmation, first communions, and weddings, settling the arrangements for that occasion in the past couple of weeks has given me much to remember, to celebrate, and to think about. You will be hearing more about that in a few weeks, but I cannot pass up this chance to think out loud with you about these things in the context of what we have just heard proclaimed to us by lectors and deacon.
It is the end of Peter’s great sermon on Pentecost that we proclaim today. If you’ll remember I made the comment on Easter Sunday that there is little wonder his sermon was so great that day. He did not live long enough to preach on that event for forty years! I wonder if he would have managed to get away with giving the same one forty times! What amazes me however, is not what he said; but of course, the change that came over him in those forty days between Good Friday and Pentecost. What further amazes me is the response of the people: “Tell us what to do!” They cry out. Wow! have I ever wished that would happen around here! Since you have not in one voice shouted: “Tell us what to do.” when I finish here each week. I’ve decided on Good Shepherd Sunday to tell you anyway!
Take Jesus Christ seriously. Stop wishing and talking about making a relationship with him first in your life. Do it now, and make it obvious. Bear witness to that relationship by how you use your gifts. If Christ is first in your life, then the first day of the week is His and there is no other place to be than in his presence among people who worship, praise, give thanks, and accept the gift of his forgiveness and his body and blood. If Christ is first in you life, your check book ought to show that. That’s nothing to be ashamed of nor is it a secret. What you have comes from God. What you give in direct proportion to what you believe. There are people who don’t like to hear that, but it’s the truth. It is a way of imitating the generosity of God. We do it with time, with our talent, and our treasure: all three, not one or the other.
Young people, if you want Jesus Christ to be first in our life, then make it so. What Jesus would do in every situation is what matters first, not what someone else will think of you, or what everyone else is doing, unless that “everyone else” happens to be your church companions. If you have not yet decided what to do with your life, why don’t you ask what God wants you to do with your life, since God gave it to you. It is not a matter of making a lot of money, of looking good, and having everything you want. It is matter of being all that you can be, not having all you can have. I do not believe that we need to pray for vocations, or ask God to call people to generous lives of service. That’s silly and thoughtless. God has never stopped calling us by name. People have stopped listening to God, and they have not taken the courage to respond to the deepest movements in their souls.
In this parish three young people have gone to the seminary in the five years I have been here. One left after giving it a real try and have two stayed. Praise God for all three of them. They had courage. Their example raises questions. There are hundreds of young single people in this parish community. Where are they? Parents, have you left them at home when you promised to bring them up in the practice of the faith? Has the truth that there have been a few bad shepherds so spoiled the thought of generous and faithful commitment that there are only three in five years out of this huge parish? Is this culture so saturated with sex that a celibate life looks lonely and impossible empty and loveless? Has materialism and consumerism so seduced our children that we are left with an overworked, aged clergy and that continual prospect of closed churches? The fact of the matter is, we are as a church struggling with sexism, the limitations our tradition places upon us, and the painful effort of considering change while remaining faithful to the Holy Spirit. In the midst of all that, I do not believe that God has gone silent. I do believe we fail to listen.
Let me tell you a story, and then you think about it and my greatest hope after forty years of service as priest is that you will ask God: “What shall we do?”
A man and his wife came home from a short trip, and they noticed a message on their answering machine. The caller ID was from Alaska. This fact didn’t excite them because it usually meant contact with the man’s long-lost brother who called himself a prospector. Differences of opinion had created a separation between the two for years. As far as the family was concerned, the “prospector” would never amount to anything and they grew tired of him chasing unrealistic dreams with their money. They listened as a stranger’s voice on the message said that the brother had died and someone from the family needed to come make arrangements. Reluctantly, the man and his wife loaded up the car and headed north. After seeing to a funeral, they went to a small, remote cabin to claim any of the brother’s valuables before they left or the goods would be quickly claimed by someone else. Arriving at the run-down shack, they looked through the cupboards and chest of drawers, and packed up a few things they decided they should take with them. As they were leaving, they met rag-tag prospector walking up to the cabin. “You folks leaving?” he asked. They told him yes. “Well, did you clean out Artie’s place?” “We took what we felt was worth taking and we’re heading back.” The old man asked if they minded if he took what was left, and they replied, “No, help yourself.” The old man ambled up to the cabin, turned around and watched the dust roll out from under the car as it headed back to civilization. He went inside, moved a table to one side, picked up a board from the floor, and collected the bags of gold his friend had been gathering for years. “Too bad they didn’t know Artie a little better,” he said to himself.