The Voice

John 10:22-30
4th Sunday of Easter
Sunday, May 12, 2019

They ask Jesus, “How long will you keep us in suspense?”—an unlikely source for such a good question.  The religious leaders corner Jesus, looking for something religious leaders always wish they had: clarity.  They want black and white, like we all want it black and white.  But if you’ve met Jesus in any way, you know that’s not what you’re going to get, right?  

“How long will you keep us in suspense?” they ask Jesus.  At least, that’s how the Greek is translated in your pew Bibles.  As language translation goes, of course, sometimes it isn’t completely clear.  Sometimes you need to look at clues from the context to get a more-precise translation.  In this case, there are a couple of ways you can go here: one is the way we read it.  The other is more like, “How long will you annoy us?”  Hate to say it, but Jesus can be vexing.  

You can see how context might play a role in how that would get translated, right?  But here’s the thing: it’s actually hard to tell.  The verses right before our reading today say, “Again the Jews were divided because of these words. Many of them were saying, ‘He has a demon and is out of his mind. Why listen to him?’ Others were saying, ‘These are not the words of one who has a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?’”  Which crowd was this today?  Was it the friendlier group or the annoyed one?  Honestly, from the context, there is no way to tell.  

If you like clarity—if you like things like the Bible to be black and white—this is not going to be your day.  Sometimes Jesus will still confound us; sometimes what Jesus calls us to do and be is not so black and white.  The religious leaders corner Jesus and ask him to just speak plainly and sometimes we think, “I know, right?”  

Fortunately, we are reminded of something important today: our Risen Savior doesn’t just call us to understand; he calls us to listen and follow.  

You may notice that, when the Gospel of John refers to “the Jews”, I tend to call them “religious leaders”.  I do this on purpose for a couple of reasons: first, John does not mean it in an anti-Semitic way.  John doesn’t have a problem with Jewish people, and neither does God.  Seems like I shouldn’t have to say that, but you never know.  So for clarity’s sake, I am careful to indicate which specific group of Jews the Gospel of John is talking about: John is talking about a specific group of religious leaders.   But also, I call them “religious leaders” to point out that we’re often more like them than we want to admit.  As I said, for whatever reasons, they are looking to Jesus for clarity; just like us.  We want a plain and simple Savior; we want a plain and simple understanding of Scripture; we want a plainly understandable God whose actions in the world can be plainly explained to those around us.  In fact, we want those things so badly that we speak sometimes as though those things are actually plain and simple.  But the trouble with talking plainly about the things of God is that the things of God are anything but plain.  When we begin speaking with certainty about God, it is a sure sign that we are no longer actually talking about God.    

And because it’s in my “religious leader” nature to do so, I feel the overwhelming urge to ask the question: why doesn’t Jesus just speak plainly?  Wouldn’t it have been easier?  They come to Jesus and ask him if he’s the Messiah and he says, “Yep.”  Story over; everyone goes home happy.  But of course, that is not at all what Jesus says.  

There’s a Jesuit priest named Anthony DeMello who wrote a parable he called "The Explorer".  It’s about a person who left his home and his village to explore the faraway and exotic Amazon River.  When he finally comes back home to his village, his fellow villagers are understandably captivated as the explorer tries to describe his many experiences.  He tries to tell them about this seemingly alien world: the thundering waterfalls, the beautiful foliage, the extraordinary wildlife, along with its many dangers.  But no matter how much he described his journey, there were so many things he just couldn’t put into words: there just weren’t words to tell them about things like the feelings that flooded his heart when he heard the night sounds of the forest or the sense of danger he felt as he flew down the rapids.   

So in the story he finally tells them they simply must go and visit the Amazon and experience it for themselves.  So to help them with their journey, the explorer draws them a map. Immediately the villagers pounced on the map.  They made copies of the map, so that everyone can have his or her own.  They framed their maps for prominent display in their town hall and in their homes.  They would gather regularly to study the map and discuss its many features.  These maps became so central to the villagers that many began to consider themselves experts on the Amazon itself.  For did they not know the location of every waterfall and rapid; do they not know this river’s every turn and every bend?  But are they really experts?  Do they really know the Amazon?
I suspect that the reason Jesus doesn’t just speak plainly to us is because he knows us all too well; and what we want is not always what Jesus wants for us.  We want to know; we want to have all the answers; we want to solve all of the mysteries.  But Jesus wants something else for us: Jesus wants us to follow.  Jesus calls us to walk with him and experience him for ourselves.  They ask Jesus if he’s the Messiah and his answer can’t be found in a simply “yes” or “no”; it is found in what he does; it is found as his sheep hear his voice and follow him.  Which is maybe not the answer we were looking for, but it’s the answer we need.  Today we remember that we are sheep; and sheep follow.  The only thing a sheep needs to know is the voice of the shepherd.  

As it is Mother’s Day, I often find myself mindful of the mothering people I’ve had in my life.  This morning I’m thinking about Alice.  Alice was my grandmother, my mom’s mom.  I may have mentioned her to you before.  I may have mentioned that, without hearing her voice, her presence would make a palpable change in the atmosphere when she visited our house.  Honestly, I remember sitting in my upstairs room on a Thanksgiving morning and feeling the air just change.  She was a gracious woman who brought Jesus to the very least in our world, but man, that woman had a presence!  

I was sitting in my room, feeling the atmosphere shift, wondering what happened, and then I heard it: the laugh; cackle, really.  She had this laugh you could hear from space.  It rings in my ears sometimes.  It was a laugh that was unlike any laugh I had heard before or since.  You could feel her presence, but her laugh confirmed it.  She had a voice.  

Jesus tells the religious people something that religious people should keep in mind today too: listen for the voice.  Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand.” Jesus does not call us to perfect understanding; he calls us to listen for his voice and follow.  We are called listen for the voice of our Good Shepherd who will care for us forever.  We are called to remember who we are as God’s beloved sheep.  Let us strive to listen for our Savior’s voice as we seek to be his faithful sheep.