GOOD SHEPHERDS

Most of us know Psalm 23 by heart. We are not talking about one or two verses here. This is a whole chapter from the Bible that most of us know! This is one chapter that has given courage to so many when they were afraid. This is one chapter so many people have held onto when they crossed over to the life beyond.

Shepherd works as a metaphor for God in the Psalm. The good shepherd will never abandon the sheep. The sheep will never, ever, be alone.

In Sunday's gospel reading, people gather around Jesus and ask, "How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly." These people expected a male leader who will lead them to victory. These people expected a strongman who will destroy the Romans and restore the former glory of the monarchy.

These people expected a leader who will make sure that the people who put him in power are rewarded handsomely--with riches, with the privilege of being at his right hand.

Jesus responds by talking about sheep and shepherds. Sheep do know the voice of their shepherd. Sheep do follow their shepherd in and out of the sheepfold. Sheep do run away from those whose voice they do not know. Shepherd works as a metaphor for Jesus in Sunday's lection. The good shepherd will never abandon the sheep. The sheep will never, ever, be alone.

Our country does not need messiahs nor strongmen. We need shepherds.
Lest we forget--then and now--women make up more than half of the world's shepherds. Let's stop imagining that the good shepherd in the Bible has to be male. Rebekah, Rachel, Miriam, Zipporah and her sisters were shepherds. The shepherds who visited Jesus when he was born were probably all women. Most importantly, many faith communities celebrate Mary--the mother of the Lamb of God--as a shepherd!

Good shepherds can be women and men. Good shepherds work as a metaphor for persons whose track records exemplify love for God via service to the people. Like Sarah Elago and the women of Gabriela. Like Neri Colmenares and the men of Bayan Muna. Like Liza Maza. Like Arlene Brosas. Like Teddy Casino. Like France Castro. And like Danilo Ramos.

Friends, on May 12, let's elect good shepherds!
*Art, "The Good Shepherd," JESUS MAFA, 1973, Cameroon (available at the vanderbilt divinity library digital archives).
 

LOVE. RIGHT NOW.

In Sunday's Gospel, Peter tells Jesus "I love you!" three times. In the Greek, Jesus asks Peter if he loves him with an agape kind of love. Peter responds yes, with a filial kind of love. Again, Jesus asks... agape.... Peter again responds... filial.... On the third go, Jesus adjusts. He asks for filial love. Peter responds yes, filial.

God asks us to love unconditionally, to love the unlovable, to love those who can never love us back: agape. But like Peter, most of us can only offer what we can offer right now. Mutuality. Reciprocity. Solidarity. The love most of us know: filial.

So many among us who confess to be followers of Jesus promise to offer what we actually do not have. We will volunteer our services when we get a vacation. We will give more support when we get a raise. We will serve the church and its ministries when our situation changes for the better. The future is in God’s hands. Not ours.

Only in John do we find the source of the five barley loaves and two fish that led to the feeding of the 5000. It was from a child. A poor and hungry child. One among the hungry multitude. The child offered what he had. Right there and then.

In Sunday's narrative, Jesus adjusts. He asks Peter for the best but when Peter could not give it, Jesus accepts what Peter could offer right there and then.

My friends, what we can offer right now is better than the best we can offer tomorrow.

What can we offer right now as expressions of our solidarity with our Palestinian sisters and brothers? What can we do right now to demand justice for victims of extra judicial killings and enforced disappearances? What can we contribute right now to aid relief operations locally and internationally?

What we can offer right now is better, much better than the best we can offer tomorrow.

Especially for a world, that is like sheep without a shepherd, that needs to be fed, to be given drink, to be welcomed, to be visited, to be clothed, to be set free, to experience justice, to hear the Good News that God has left heaven to be with us.

Love. Right now.

*Art, "Breakfast on the Beach" by Peter Koenig (available from the vanderbilt divinity library digital art collection).
 

GOD REMEMBERS

 

Many imagine the resurrected body. I have heard long discussions on how resurrected bodies are supposed to look, including what superhuman abilities these new bodies will have. Sometimes, our imagination gets the better of us.

Of this, I'm sure: despite their differences (and there are a lot), the four gospels all tell us that the Risen One has a body. In Sunday's Gospel from John, Jesus tells Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side." The Risen One has a body, and that resurrected body still bears the marks of the crucifixion. God knows who is responsible for each wound.

Over 50,000 men, women, and children have been killed by the genocide being perpetuated by the State of Israel against the Palestinian People. And the murders continue. Take heart! God knows who are responsible. God never forgets.

Every single day so many of our sisters and brothers--who serve the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized--are red-tagged, abducted, tortured, brutalized, and crucified. Take heart! God knows each and every one responsible. God remembers.

God will never forget the crucified. God will raise up each and every one of them. God always remembers the marks of each crucifixion. And God knows who is responsible for each of those wounds!

Dear Friends, then and now, the resurrection requires warm bodies that embody justice, solidarity, and life-giving. The resurrection requires warm bodies that will rise up for those who have fallen, that will continue the struggle for peace based on justice, that will inspire solidarity and accompaniment.

For every one that has fallen, God will raise up ten. For every ten, a hundred. For every hundred, a thousand...

The resurrection always requires warm bodies. The resurrection requires your body. And mine.

*Art, "Jesus appears to Thomas," JESUS MAFA (from vanderbilt divinity library digital archives).

THE STRANGER

Who are the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the unwelcomed, and the prisoners that Jesus challenges us to serve, to take sides with, and to love? The stranger. 

Who are the widows, the orphans, the indigenous peoples, and the refugees that-- over and over--the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms enjoin us to care for, to hold dear, and to treat as sisters and brothers? The stranger.

Who are the daily wage earners, the laborers who survive from paycheck to paycheck, the homeless, the jobless, and the most vulnerable in a world ravaged by death-dealing structures and systems we are supposed to prioritize? Yes, the stranger. 

If we read our Bibles and pray every day, then we will grow in the realization that--most often than not--God comes as a stranger. God did when God encountered Hagar in the wilderness. God did when God shared the promise of Isaac's birth. God did when God judged the arrogance and inhospitality of Sodom and Gomorrah. God did when God wrestled with Jacob at Jabbok.

God came as a stranger when God was born in a manger instead of a palace; in Galilee instead of Jerusalem; among the odorized and the otherized; and grew up in a mud hut instead of a white house. 

In Sunday's Gospel from Luke 24, two disciples on the road to Emmaus encounter the Risen One as a complete stranger. They spend most of the day with the stranger and when they invited him to spend the night with them, verse 30 reads, "When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them". The "breaking of the bread" opened their eyes and they recognized the Lord. 

God comes as a stranger. This is why we welcome the dispossessed, the displaced, the disenfranchised. This is why we open our homes, our churches, our spaces to Lumads, to People Living with HIV and AIDS, to refugees, to Palestinians, to those whose only hope is God.

God comes as a stranger. 

This is why we always, always offer sanctuary. And during these trying times, sanctuary can mean that extra room in our house, the available spaces in our church offices and buildings, the vacant rooms in our dormitories, and, yes, that extra bed. Safe spaces. A simple meal. Even a piece of bread. 

*Art, Luke 24: 1-53, Resurrection (from The Cartoonist Bible).