Actually today's story has another image for Jesus. There is a wall. Walls do exist. People are separated from each other in all kinds of ways. But in the middle of this wall there is a gate. And Jesus is the gate. He is the means by which the sheep go in and out.
And it's necessary for sheep to go in and out. Outside is a place to graze and inside is a place to rest. It is part of the dailyness of life. Inside the gate, you gather at the end of the day. Outside the gate, you move on to green pastures and still waters. It's part of the rhythm of life. Since the green pastures are outside the gate a sheep that refuses to go will not get the sustenance. Likewise a sheep that refuses to go in may soon be lost in the night. So the gate is part of life. But not because it keeps us out or in. It simply marks the passage-way from one place to another. (Anna Carter Florence, Lectionary Homiletics, April-May 2008, p. 15)
Jesus is the gate.
Now sometimes we, sometimes churches think of Jesus as the boundary, the fence. We affiliate with Jesus. We're in his fence. Others who don't are outside the fence. If that were true, then the boundary seems clear enough: Jesus. So we might differentiate: saved/not saved; in/out.
But if Jesus is the gate, then everything changes. Then it's not about boundaries but about passage-ways, movement from here to there, a flow across.
St. Peter was walking down the street in heaven and realized that it seemed really crowded. Concerned, he goes and looks in the book they keep at the gate when people check into heaven. A quick look makes him feel even more certain that something is not right. In a bit of a panic he goes and finds St. Paul and tells him of his suspicions.
"Paul," he says, "this doesn't look good! Are there really as many extra people as it seems. Who are these people and how did they get here? I want you to go and find out what's going on."
So Paul runs off to investigate while Peter personally watches the gate just to be sure no extra people get into heaven and confuse matters even more.
After a long while Paul comes back to report to Peter. "You're right, Peter, there are lots of extra people here."
"I knew it!" Peter cries. "Well, where are they coming from?"
Paul grimaces and says, "Oh, it's that Jesus. He's helping people climb in over the back fence again." Jesus is the gate.
That's the way I think this passage speaks to us about Jesus, about the Church, about being the leaven in the loaf and not a slice of bread that's off to the side for only us.
But I think there are other boundaries for which Jesus might serve as the gate too...the divisions within, the divisions of our own minds.
As the PBS series on WWII was aired, I couldn't help but think of my Father...especially as they spoke about the reluctance of the young men to relate their experiences. They didn't talk about it. Oh, maybe occasionally, softly, among others who shared the experience first-hand, but not to those back home. And my Father fit that mold. Quietly, inwardly, it was a powerful experience in his life, but I never heard that directly.
Rather it was through Mom. She knew at least something of it. And I learned this story through her. Dad was on a Destroyer in the Pacific. The war was over. He and the rest of the crew was intact. They had made it safely through the ordeal. Quite an accomplishment, really. The farm boy from southern Illinois had been half-way around the world, but now was headed home. They had made it through the Panama Canal enroute to Texas when a storm came up. His best friend through these months was out on deck and evidently did not get himself tethered and was washed overboard.
That memory of my Father, never shared directly, came to mind this week as Elmhurst College observed Holocaust Remembrance week. Abner Gannet, the former Mayor of Elmhurst was on the podium, part of the delegation to welcome Ellie Wiesel some years ago to Elmhurst College. Ellie Wiesel is the writer who insists we must remember - and he has shared his experiences as a child first at Auschwitz then at Buchenwald. They engaged in conversation. Ellie discovered that Abner was one of American soldiers that liberated the camp - something Abner had not spoken about in all these years. On the podium, then and then, Ellie convinced Abner he must speak, he must tell the story, he must tear down the wall that he had built around this experience and allow the memory to be shared, not just for himself but for the world.
For what happens when we wall it off, shut it out, is that we begin to imagine it never did happen. We begin again to underestimate the tragedy of war. We begin to underestimate evil's power and how crucial it is that we be witnesses for justice and peace and how important love is to nurture. It's important for our wholeness, yes, on the inside - to be whole people ourselves. It's important for the wholeness of the world.
No, not walls, but a gate. Jesus ends this passage with a hopeful word. "I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly." No walls. A gate.
Let us pray,
Remind us again, O God, that happiness comes not through the satisfaction of our own needs. You call us to something higher, larger: the joy that comes through reconciliation, when my neighbor and I have overcome our boundaries and understanding breaks through. Come, Lord Jesus, be the gate to our sense of community with one another. Amen.
Further thoughts...
Frost: Mending Wall.
The Cross returns, following Easter. It is not just a "Holy Week" symbol of Jesus' Crucifixion. It is a reminder that the presence of God in suffering and our efforts to be Christ in the suffering of others is at the heart of our faith.