Rev. Dr. Joel D. Biermann
Ezekiel 34:7-16
May 7, 2017 Fourth Sunday of Easter
As you may have noticed, this is the suburbs. We live surrounded by development, buildings, concrete, and people. Green spaces are the exception and not the rule, and whatever green spaces there might be are tightly constrained and surrounded by development, buildings, concrete, and people. So, lacking adequate pastureland, none of you raise crops or livestock for your livelihood. None of you is responsible for a flock of sheep, or even a single sheep for that matter. In fact, you are probably absolutely (and justifiably!) disinterested in anything at all to do with sheep. Most of us don’t even eat sheep. The closest I come to sheep is the wool in my suits. So, when Ezekiel announces that he has a word for shepherds, the relevancy meter plummets and the interest level takes a dive with it. Who cares about sheep? Who cares about shepherds? Well, you should, of course. Because, after all, you are a sheep.
It’s one of the most pervasive metaphors in the Bible. God’s people, human creatures, are likened to sheep. It’s an apt image. Fragile, defenseless, prone to wander, inclined to be unduly influenced by their peers, prone to herd activity, dependent, stubborn, sometimes a tad smelly, and pretty much oblivious to all of these defining realities, people have a fair amount in common with sheep. But, it’s not just that you are like a sheep. The way that the Bible puts it, you are a sheep. You are part of a flock—you and all of your fellow believers in the promises of God are the flock. And you have a shepherd: God himself who watches over you, protects you, directs you, and provides for you. But, the sheep metaphor can be developed in other ways as well. And that’s what Ezekiel does when he aims a word at shepherds—in other words, leaders of the people who are supposed to be responsible for the people, just as a shepherd is responsible for his sheep. And since you are a sheep, what Ezekiel has to say to shepherds should be of interest to you.
It seems that the shepherds of Israel, the religious and political leaders of Ezekiel’s day, were not fulfilling their responsibilities. In fact, they were neglecting their duties, and taking advantage of their situation. The shepherds were called to provide for the flock, but instead they were eager to fleece the flock…and worse. When a sheep was lost, they didn’t care. When wild beasts attacked, the shepherds were nowhere to be found. Instead of protecting the flock from predators, these shepherds were the ones preying on the flock. They weren’t feeding the sheep, they were feeding on the sheep. The shepherds were the sheep’s worst nightmare. So, Ezekiel declares God’s judgment against these ruthless, good-for-nothing shepherds. The warning was clear: God would deal with them. God holds his shepherds accountable. And, if you’re a sheep, this is comforting. It’s nice to know that leaders who abuse their power will be called to account for their crimes. It resonates with our sense of justice. The same promise, or threat, holds today. God demands an accounting from those who are charged to lead. So, Ezekiel’s message is good news. In this case, it’s good to be a sheep and not a shepherd. What a relief to be just a sheep.
You are not just any old sheep, either. You are God’s sheep, one of his hand-picked people. He’s called you into his flock. He’s made you his very own. God himself takes care of you. He always takes care of his sheep. He loves them. That’s why he has harsh words for miserable human shepherds. When those shepherds fail, God himself steps in and comes to the rescue. Of course, that is precisely what he did by sending his own Son. For the sake of his sheep, because he loved his sheep, God joined the world in the person of Jesus Christ, the ultimate and perfect Good Shepherd. Led by The Holy Spirit, Ezekiel looked forward into time and saw the fulfillment. He saw the time when the Good Shepherd comes and takes care of his sheep. He saw the work that Jesus, the Good Shepherd does for his people. When the flock is scattered, the Good Shepherd gathers it together again. When a sheep is lost, the Good Shepherd never quits looking; he finds it and brings it back. When the sheep are hungry, he feeds them. When the sheep are tired, he finds a place for them to rest. When a sheep is injured, he binds the wounds and heals that sheep. That’s what the Good Shepherd does for his sheep. When you are one of God’s sheep, you can breathe easy and let down your guard. When you are God’s sheep life is good. In God’s flock, a sheep can rest comfortably, graze well, and grow strong and well-toned; a sheep can even achieve that healthy, “filled-out” look...you know, that well-fed, American-style, sign of well-being, prosperity, and plenty. Not gaunt or scrawny, but robust and sleek, maybe even handsomely plump. A sheep in God’s flock has it good.
So, we delight in the great privilege of being God’s sheep. We relax and rejoice in the promises he has made. And he makes some powerful promises. Hear again what he says to you through his prophet, Ezekiel: “I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, and the fat and the strong I will destroy.” Whoa. Wait a minute. What was that last part? “…and the fat and the strong I will destroy?” What’s that doing in there? Just when everything was on track and looking great, just when the promises were kicking in, and it was feeling pretty good to be part of the flock, just when everything was blooming and smiling, and things were sounding the way that they are supposed to sound, Ezekiel, or rather, the Holy Spirit, drops this bombshell. The Good Shepherd who comes for his sheep and seeks, and brings back, and binds up, and strengthens…also destroys? It’s added almost as if it is an afterthought. The lost get sought. The scattered get brought back. The broken get patched up, the sick and weak get healed and strengthened. And the fat and the strong…oh, they get destroyed, wiped out, exterminated, that’s what the Hebrew word means. What’s going on, here? What happened to the cheery, comforting words? What happened to a Good Shepherd who lovingly, tenderly cares for his sheep?
The word seems out of place. But, there it is: “Destroy.” There’s no way to wiggle out of it. There’s no clever interpretation to make it go away or blunt its force. The message is dreadfully, disastrously direct: the well-fed, good, solid, healthy, strong, sleek sheep, precisely those sheep, the Lord God promises to destroy. This is no idle threat. God does exactly what he says he is going to do. The sleek, strong, sheep get it—and, it’s not their anticipated reward, a pile of rich blessings and sweet luxuries that they get—no, they get destroyed. Make no mistake: the sleek and strong are not just fat-cat billionaires or powerful politicians and policy-makers who deal in influence and prestige. This is not one more swipe at the self-serving shepherds that God hates. No, the fat and strong sheep, the buff and sleek sheep are simply all the sheep who are not lost, or scattered, or broken, or sick and weak. The sleek and strong sheep are the decent, solid folk who do their best with what they’ve got, and make a genuine effort to make things a little better. It’s people who work hard to do their fair share and who manage to get ahead and do all right for themselves. It’s people who get their work done, meet their responsibilities, and are able to enjoy some of the fruits of their hard labors—but no more than they have coming to them—just their fair share. Does any of this sound familiar? Do you know any sheep like that? I won’t presume to speak for you, but this text terrifies me.
And yet, the wonder of this text, the impossible and surprising beauty of this word from God, is precisely its unsettling incongruity and dissonance. You see, the hard reality is that God has no need for self-made men. He has no use for the well-fed and the healthy. He has no interest in the man who’s learned to pull his own weight and make a real contribution. God does not want sleek sheep, he does not want pleasantly plump, strong, fit, muscular sheep. He doesn’t want sleek sheep because sleek sheep don’t want him. It’s true. Sleek sheep are self-sufficient and self-confident. Sleek sheep are certain of the privileges they’ve got coming to them. Sleek sheep are able to make their own way and take care of themselves. That’s why God does the loving thing: and destroys them. He destroys the sleek sheep because he loves the sleek sheep. It’s only when they’ve been destroyed that they are ready to be part of his flock.
Think about Peter. Peter was one robust, solid, healthy, sleek sheep, wasn’t he? He was Jesus’ hand-picked disciple. He had great insight into Jesus’ identity. He spoke with confidence for the entire group of the apostles. And when Jesus warned the twelve that they would all deny and desert him, he was adamant: “Lord, even if all the rest turn and run, I’m your man. I’m sticking with you; you can count on me.” So, what did the Good Shepherd do to this sleek sheep? He destroyed him. He wiped him out and brought him to nothing through the challenge of a servant girl. “I don’t know him!” Peter swore it…and then went out and wept bitterly. Peter had been killed, destroyed by his own self-sufficient sin. And, then there’s Paul, another, perhaps the ultimate, good, strong, healthy, righteous sheep. An Israelite from the tribe of Benjamin, a Pharisee and rabbi, a persecutor of heresy, a man who got things done: Paul was a strong, confident, sleek sheep. And what did the Good Shepherd do with this fine specimen? He knocked him flat. The flash of light, the words of rebuke, the humbling, crushing blindness: Paul was destroyed. Self-sufficiency and self-righteousness were wiped out—a merciful action by the Good Shepherd. The sleek are destroyed so that they can be ready, finally, for God’s work in them. They are destroyed so that they are ready to be bound up and made new again by God himself. Destroyed sheep are ready to be re-made into real, God-created, sheep of God’s flock. They are ready to be sheep who know their need, sheep who are made whole by God. God only cares for broken and weak sheep. Grace is only for those who are weak and sick and lost and torn apart. And, grace is what weak, lost, sick, and destroyed sheep always get. It was that way for Peter. Broken and shamed, he got grace, and then he was sent out to be a shepherd himself—a remarkable twist in the plan of the Good Shepherd. It was the same for Paul. Torn apart and humiliated—repentant, indeed—he received grace, and then he was sent out…another shepherd to care for God’s flock. It is the same for you. Broken and humbled, brought low by the awareness of your own sin, you are self-made, capable, strong, and sleek no more. And then, in your inability and great need and finally aware of that fact, the Good Shepherd comes looking for you. He finds you. He binds your wounds. He builds you up and brings you back to the flock, and you are his. You are not a sleek sheep, you are his sheep, and his sheep you will remain. Amen.