Easter IV 05/11/25
The Still Point
A Time of Meditation and Reflection
The Fourth Sunday of Easter:
Good Shepherd Sunday
... At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance... T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton
Peace on each one who comes in need;
Peace on each one who comes in joy.
Peace on each one who offers prayers;
Peace on each one who offers song.
Peace of the Maker, Peace of the Son,
Peace of the Spirit, the Triune One.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen.
The Lord is Risen indeed. Alleluia!
Opening Prayer
O God, whose Son Jesus is the good shepherd of your people: Grant that when we hear his voice we may know him who calls us each by name, and follow where he leads; who, with you and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The Gospel John 10:22-30
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."
Poem: "May" Kerry Hardie (b. 1951)
The blessèd stretch and ease of it -
heart’s ease. The hills blue. All the flowering weeds
bursting open. Balm in the air. The birdsong
bouncing back out of the sky. The cattle
lain down in the meadow, forgetting to feed.
The horses swishing their tails.
The yellow flare of furze on the near hill.
And the first cream splatters of blossom
high on the thorns where the day rests longest.
All hardship, hunger, treachery of winter
forgotten.
This unfounded conviction: forgiveness, hope.
Meditation
Today's Gospel and psalm are both rooted in the world of the pastoral Redeemer and in Christ as the Good Shepherd. Our poem, too, paints a lovely picture of a May landscape, giving picturesque context to the "unfounded conviction" of "forgiveness, hope". Indeed, it's tempting to read the beloved Psalm 23 mockingly or mawkishly, or to shrug at its pastoral beauty, at its almost cruelly cozy tone. Our poem for today only adds to the sweetness, with ‘hardship, hunger, and treachery of winter forgotten,’ and everything painted in a haze of forgiveness and hope.
Spoiler alert: nothing seems further from us than the beauty of the green meadow right now, and most of us, if forced to choose a metaphor for the current vibe, would come up with something like 'pit' or 'fiery abyss'.
So what do we do when it feels like we’re at the bottom of an ever-growing pit? What do we do in a world where the strength of our democracy, the health of our planet, our ethical and equitable treatment of others, and our own hope, all seem to be slipping away from us?
It might help to reconsider Psalm 23’s apparent tranquility. Psalm 23’s soul-reviving, comfort-giving, table-spreading shepherd is, despite the mental image we may have, an earthy, human redeemer who does all of the messy tasks that any shepherd would do, from watching out for poisonous plants, to shearing the sheep, to keeping one step ahead of diseases, to the bloody yet blessed event of lambing in the spring.
The psalm shows us comfort and relief only within the real world: the valley of the shadow of death, the presence ‘of those who trouble me’ remind us that danger is literally present. The threats and enemies will continue - the shepherd’s job is to provide dependable protection, not elimination of woes. Even our poem, despite its beautiful vision, includes emblems of pain and ugliness in its weeds and thorns. For me, the way forward is to remind myself that I'm the sheep in this metaphor: I'm stumbling, sometimes helpless, susceptible to dark moments, dark valleys, and my own dark shadow. I must acknowledge my muddy, bloody reality of my existence. I must acknowledge that, even if my default mode is ‘lone wolf,’ I exist within a flock of other broken humans who need each other. I also must acknowledge that in the midst of my deepest sheepiness, there’s a voice that calls me, that there’s something within me that is lovely, that is worth saving, that needs protection, and that deserves being surrounded by goodness and mercy not because of something I’ve done, or because of my gender or my last name or where I went to school or my zip code, but simply because I belong to God. I belong to love. I belong to that good shepherd whose very effectiveness depends on my trust, my hope, my sometimes robotic listening to the voice. This shepherd is not asking me to change who I am, but rather, to be a sheep and to be loved by Love.
Questions for Reflection
In your sheepiest moments, how do you hear the shepherd’s voice? And what is that voice saying today? Perhaps it is calling you to do that thing you’ve been putting off, to say that thing that you’ve been meaning to say for a long time. To reconnect with that loved one. To mend that broken heart.
If you are more prone to see weeds and thorns instead of flowers, what are the buds that you imagine starting to grow in your life right now? How can you nurture those slower?
If you are more prone to ignore the weeds and thorns, what actions do you feel called to perform to tend to them?
Which of the many metaphors for Jesus resonate the most for you? Is it "the Word"? "the Bread of Life"? "the Good Shepherd"?
Prayers
We bring before God someone whom we have met or remembered today
We bring to God someone who is hurting tonight and needs our prayer
We bring to God a troubled situation in our world
We bring to God, silently, someone whom we find hard to forgive or trust
We bring ourselves to God that we might grow in generosity of spirit, clarity of mind, and warmth of affection
We offer our thanks to God for the blessings in our lives
We name before God those who have died.
Gracious God, you hear all our prayers: those we speak aloud, those we hold in our hearts, and those prayers for which we have no words. Hear the prayers of your people, and grant them as may be best for us, for the sake of your holy name. Amen.
Accept our thanks for all you have done, O God. Our hands were empty, and you filled them.
May Christ’s holy, healing, enabling Spirit be with us every step of the way, and be our guide as our road changes and turns, and the blessing of God our Creator, Redeemer and Giver of life be among us now and remain with us forever. Amen.
Reflections this month offered by: Matt Bentley
