Hearing Christ’s Voice
The Rev. Dr. Seth Thomas
Our Easter Stories • Sermon • Submitted • Presented • 25:29
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· 16 viewsJesus, the Shepherd calls to his sheep. We, like children who know their mother’s voice, hear the call. The Mothering-God guides us through the joy and sorrow of life.
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At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. 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. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand.The Father and I are one.”
And now, a reading from “Little Owl Lost”, by Chris Haughton. Enjoy.
Reading from Little Owl Lost
It’s Mother’s Day. And this year, rather than skirting around it or making a soft mention, today I want to look right at it. Mother’s Day is a good day — it’s a time to remember and honor the people who mothered us through the years, raising us or mentoring us, guiding us, teaching us.
Today we’re going to look at this passage from John 10 and see how it connects with our morning Psalm reading. At the heart of Jesus’ exchange with the Jews at the temple is the question — are you the Messiah, the one we’ve been waiting for?
In their own way, the Jews are asking — are you my mother? The people walking in darkness have longed for a light. The crying children are waiting for their mother hen. The people are hoping for a revolution, a restoration of their fortunes. The Messiah is to be this answer.
How does a Good Mothering God lead us through the longings and trials of life? How do we testify to our belonging in God’s loving care, the way a mother looks after her child, the way we long to be cared for and known deeply. We face a very difficult world — we need these figures of motherhood near us, helping us along. And we need to remember that while humans struggle, the Mother God who is found in the person of Jesus the Christ — this mothering God meets us amidst all our ups and downs, our valleys and peaks.
Let us pray.
Jesus makes it plain that if you know his voice, you are his child.
When I hear the kids playing on the school playground, I can usually pull Asher’s voice out from the mix. I know his voice.
And I am sure of it, Asher knows our voices, Stacy’s and mine, through the din of this noisy world. I think it expands beyond the voice, even. The child knows the parent’s eyes, their touch, their scent. I think when we get really close to texts like this, we realize the great intimacy of belonging in the arms of the Mothering God. God knows our voices. And what we are taught here today is that we recognize the sound of God’s call to us. We know God’s voice. We hear Christ’s voice. And we respond.
Let’s look at Psalm 23 from this angle — as we encounter the Risen Christ and hear his voice, what has Christ promised to do for us as children of that way? We can look to the Psalms of King David, one who knew the intimacy of God’s voice in his devotions and prayers. How does this Psalm describe the movement of the Mothering God, sustaining us through our lives?
This most memorable Psalm opens this way…
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
First and foremost, as the sheep of the shepherd, we do not want. We have what we need. This is the first principle of a secure mothering relationship — consistency and availability. The shepherd provides for the sheep. The mother’s voice and action provide for her children.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
Christ, the shepherd mother, knows where to lead us and where to guide us to rest. There is a frivolity to this line, a sense of wonder on a mid-summer day, lying in green pastures. I think of Anne of Green Gables, lying in the fields of Prince Edward Island with her bosom friend, Diana. The Mother God provides for us and gives us places to rest.
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.
And to this end, the waters are quiet, the space is prepared for our souls to receive respite and restoration.
Now, remember we are in the Season of Easter and these texts are meant to reverberate the echo of those resurrection stories. In Christ’s resurrected life, now we also receive restoration of our souls.
And of course, in keeping with the focus on God’s mothering presence, we think about the resurrection and restoration that comes from the presence of this mothering figure.
I remember a few times in college, specifically, when I just needed to go home and rest. Have a meal with my mom.
How has the Mothering God offered you refuge and stillness? Where has God provided you with people who will encourage you to rest?
I think of a simple example here — Sharon, our Church Administrator, has had some rough health and family needs this last couple of months. I have observed many of the mothers and fathers of this congregation checking in on her, making sure she has what she needs, offering space for rest if necessary. You, who live as Christ here and now, are mothering a member of our community. Sharon’s mother died years ago. We, the community of Jesus, can serve as a mothering presence to this person. We who hear the sound of the Shepherd’s voice can also BE the shepherd’s presence as we care for one another.
Continuing on…she…
She leads me in right paths
for she name’s sake.
Let’s play with the language here, just a bit more. Yes, Lord is a masculine-gendered word and these pronouns are masculine. But if God is mother, we need to queer and transgress gender a bit to get at that point. Not to replace, but to change our vantage point. God the mother leads us in the right paths, for her namesake and the glory of that name.
The sheep are led by the shepherd, not on the dangerous paths, but the right paths. The mother knows the way.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff—
they comfort me.
Let’s play some more with this image of the Mothering God. What reassures us when we walk through dark times? How do we gird up our loins or set our face like flint — how do we hold fast?
I think about this season of Easter and how the disciples would still be reeling at this miraculous resurrection event and Jesus’ subsequent meetings with them. They are walking in the darkness again…and the Christ arrives to sustain them. We fear no evil when we know we are looked after, protected, restored. We do not go astray when that presence is with us.
Let’s talk about the rod and the staff, for a second, as well.
For you are with me, your rod and your staff—they comfort me.
The rod and staff — these can be images of direction, guidance, and also of protection and law.
Let’s be honest. If we are going to talk about mothers, we have to also acknowledge that mothers aren’t always the most popular with their children when they are offering direction or guidance.
Ahh, mom…but I don’t want to do it that way.
Not a dark example, but a real one for you: My son is finally learning to comb his hair after he showers. Great. The Rod and the Staff, here, are about him doing it properly. He’ll cringe and groan as we pull it across to the side, shaping a clean little swoop up front. Uggh. Mom. Dad. Ugh.
The Rod, maybe. And the staff. A guide.
Who taught you to comb your hair? Tie your show? The shepherds in our life. The mothers, the fathers, the sisters or aunts or brothers. The mothering-God gives us these people in authority of our lives not as a punishment, but as a comforting Rod and Staff of direction and boundaries. The mothering-God equips us and protects us.
Ok, two more sections here:
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
I got into a conversation about the meaning of this section with a couple of clergy friends this last week. Davi, a United Church of Christ colleague, was discussing how they were going to work with that statement — about the table in the presence of enemies. And between me and Lindsay, an episcopal priest, we explored some of the implications of this statement.
What emerged was fascinating and new, for me. My surface reading of this statement is that God sets a table for us even amidst our enemies and that we are protected as such by God’s preparation. Yes, that works. But there’s this other angle that is a little more interesting to me today — what if this is about the reassurance of the mothering-God’s presence even in the most dangerous of places. What if this is an amped up version of the valley of the shadow of death. Now, the threats are alive and real. But the mothering-God, who protects us, whose voice we know, sets us a table and anoints us — signs of providence and protection. And in it, in this place where we think our enemies would starve us or attack us as we break bread, we see that the mothering-God makes our cup overflow. There is abundance, enough, even here.
And so the Psalm closes with this reassurance:
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
my whole life long.
The mother-God, the Christ-shepherd, assures us of a faithfulness through the whole of life.
As I read these closing sentences, I’m also struck by this image of dwelling in the house of the Lord.
Whose house do you belong to?
I told some of you the stories of visiting the communities in San Salvador where the people are organizing and supporting each other amidst some pretty intense government oppression and crackdowns. We visited one home of a community mother who, over decades, has built a home for all her children to live in as they age, grow their families, and have their careers. These community mothers run the house — in that they set the tone, they offer the space, they protect their children.
Do you know whose house you dwell in?
Well, regardless of where you’ve been or what struggles you’ve had; whatever your mother stories are, whether they are lovely or painful; hear this — now, you dwell in the house of the mothering-God, the Shepherd-Christ, the sustaining-Spirit. You belong here.
Let’s go back to Jesus’ words.
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. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand.The Father and I are one.”
If we dwell in the house of God, nothing can snatch us away. Again, let’s transgress the gender here and say it this way:
What my Mother has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Mother’s hand.The Mother and I are one.”
I’ve seen the mothering instinct and know that you don’t try to snatch a kid from a mother’s hands. Whew.
Don’t get bogged down in the language shift, but truly hear this good news — the Mothering-God, who shepherds us, watches over us, cares for us — this is the God we worship. Christ, the mother hen, is with us. The Spirit, the fierce, brilliant, sharp whispering voice, speaks comfort and restoration to us.
What if we could receive this welcome, into the loving house of the mothering-God?
What if we could be this for each other, the presence of the Mothering-Christ, here and now?
May we be a people who reflect this mothering, shepherd image of Christ back to all who we encounter. May God’s love abound in us, through us, for all creation. Amen.
