Fourth Sunday of Easter
Text: John 10:1–10; Acts 2:42–47
The Rev. Dr. Sandy Selby
This may sound strange, but the other day, I looked at my refrigerator door and thought, “Ya know, Sandy, that refrigerator door is a microcosm of your life!” Attached to the front and the side of my refrigerator are many magnets. Some of those magnets are souvenirs from favorite trips, here and abroad. Several of the other magnets hold photographs of beloved family, friends, and cats. Still others hold verses from Scripture written on an index card, or the words of an anthem cut out of our church bulletin. All of these items are attached to my refrigerator because they are meaningful to me. But frankly, I don’t often notice or pay much attention to them because I am too distracted, too busy. Like my life, my refrigerator door can be overwhelmed with clutter.
Life can be like that—-there is so much noise, so much clutter, so many distractions, that we can lose our bearings, and lose sight of what is really important, and meaningful. Which is why I need to stop and pay attention to one particular quote attached by a magnet to my refrigerator, this one a question raised by pastor and biblical scholar Bonnie Thurston: “To whom, and to what, will you listen?”
“To whom, and to what, will you listen?” That is the question Jesus raises in today’s gospel when speaking to the Pharisees and others around him, in Jerusalem. Jesus had just healed a man who was born blind. Instead of welcoming and encouraging him, the Pharisees interrogate the healed blind man and expel him from their community, refusing to believe that Jesus and his healing work come from God.
Pastor Elisabeth Johnson says it this way:
They are more concerned about guarding their power and authority than about the well-being of the people. For the blind man, salvation is not only receiving his physical sight but also spiritual sight, recognizing who Jesus is, believing in him, and becoming part of his community. He followed the voice of Jesus before he could see him, and it led to new life. His days of isolation are over; he now knows himself to be a valued member of Jesus’ flock, cared for and protected.1
In something resembling a parable, Jesus uses the metaphor of a sheepfold to interpret the story of the blind man he had healed. In ancient times, shepherds would bring their sheep through a gate into a sheepfold, an enclosure with stone walls, so that the sheep could spend the night there, in safety. Jesus says, “The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them and the sheep follow him because they know his voice.” Jesus goes on to say, “I am the gate,” and, “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me.”
The shepherd can protect and sustain the sheep because he is in a relationship that is built on trust. What’s more, the relationship between the shepherd and the sheep is one of intimacy. These sheep know things. They know that the shepherd calls each of them by name. They know and recognize his voice. Because of that intimacy, that relationship with the shepherd, that knowledge that this shepherd cares deeply about them and will protect them, they follow him. Those who follow Jesus, the good shepherd, can trust in his promise of guidance and protection.
Jesus also names a harder truth: not every voice is trustworthy. “There are thieves and bandits,” he says—voices that lie, voices that scatter, voices that steal life rather than give it. We know those voices, because we hear them all around us today, in the media. They are the voices that tell us we are not enough. The voices that tell us we do not belong. The voices that divide us from one another. The voices that promise security but deliver fear. The voices that reduce life to survival, competition, and accumulation.
“To whom, and to what, will you listen?” Some years ago, when I was at Chautauqua, the British theologian Karen Armstrong was the guest speaker for the day. During the question-and-answer session following her speech, someone asked her this question. “There are a lot of people, today, who say they have received a message from God, a message that says what God wants us to do, as individuals, as a community, or as a nation. So my question for you is, ‘How do we know that the voice that is being heard is actually the voice of God?’” Karen Armstrong replied: “If the message that was heard calls us to act with love and compassion for others, it is of God. Otherwise, that person is speaking out of his, or her, own agenda.” How important these words are for us, in our world, today.
Jesus does not deny that other voices, those he calls “thieves and bandits,” exist. But he insists they are not the voices to which we should listen. He says, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”
Commentator Karoline Lewis says,
These words of Jesus, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly” are his interpretation of the healing of the man blind from birth — a man begging for his next meal, a man constantly exposed to the elements, a man without community, alone to fend for himself. By restoring this man’s sight, Jesus does much more than making him able to see again. In the healing of the man born blind, protection, provision, and presence are now his — and forever. That’s it. Not affluence. Not luxury or lavishness. No, it seems that abundant life, according to Jesus, is knowing that you will be safe and sound, trusting that your basic needs will be met, and believing that you are never alone…The blind man is now a sheep of Jesus’ fold, part of Jesus’ community, with Jesus always. And when you know and experience protection, provision, and presence, how can your life not be abundant? 2
In this morning’s reading from the 2nd chapter of Acts, we have a picture of what that abundant life looks like, as lived out by the early Christians, in Jerusalem. Let’s set the context. After his resurrection, Jesus has been among the apostles for forty days. He tells them that they will receive the power of the Holy Spirit, then, as they watch, he ascends into heaven.
Immediately after that, we are told that Peter addressed the believers, who numbered one hundred twenty people, as the apostles prepared to choose someone to replace Judas; they chose Matthias. Then, on the day of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit came among them like the rush of wind, and the Jews of Jerusalem, filled with the Holy Spirit, started speaking in languages that were not their own. Peter then addressed the crowd, and 3,000 people were baptized that very day.
Luke, the author of the Book of Acts, then tells us what life among those early Christians is like. They share what they have. They eat together with glad and generous hearts. They praise God. They care for one another so deeply that no one is in need. This is the abundant life that Jesus promises, and to which he calls us—the abundant life of faithfulness, community, compassion, and generosity. This is what life begins to look like when people start listening to the right voice. It is what happens when people pass through the gate that is Christ and begin to live together as the Body of Christ, choosing abundance over scarcity, compassion over competition, and community over self-sufficiency.
Notice what these two readings from John and from Acts have in common: In John, the sheep are gathered and protected. In Acts, the people are gathered and sustained. In John, Jesus promises abundant life. In Acts, we see a glimpse of what that abundance looks like. In John, the sheep know the shepherd’s voice. In Acts, the community embodies that voice—through generosity, presence, and joy.
The early church did not just believe something—they lived differently.
Their faith took shape in shared meals, open tables, mutual care, and in daily rhythms of prayer and presence. They became, in a sense, a living sheepfold—a place where people could come and find safety, nourishment, and belonging. Protection, provision, and presence.
“To whom, and to what, will you listen?” Jesus, the Good Shepherd, is calling us, today, to hear his voice, and walk through the gate into a new way of life. A life where fear does not have the final word. A life where no one is left outside the fold. A life where abundance is measured not by what we keep, but by what we share.
So, good people of Faith Lutheran Church, may we listen to and recognize the voice of Jesus. May we have the courage to follow where he leads. And may we be, together, a community where abundant life is celebrated, and shared.
Amen.
1 Elisabeth Johnson, Commentary on John 10:1-10, 5/7/17, working preacher.org.
2 Karoline Lewis, “Abundant Life, 4/30/17, workingpreacher.org