BEHOLD THE LAMB OF GOD

A SERMON FOR THE 2nd SUNDAY AFTER EASTER

There are an awful lot of references in the Bible to sheep.  In fact, sheep are mentioned more than 500 times in the Bible, that’s more than any other animal.  This is not surprising, as the Holy Land of Palestine is not merely a land flowing with milk and honey.  It also flows with sheep.  These sheep have always played an important role in the economy of the region, providing not only food but also wool for clothing.  And perhaps because of this role of generous giving, or maybe because of their faithful and uncomplaining reliance on their shepherds, the Bible frequently uses sheep as a metaphor for the people of God.

Thus it comes as no surprise when Our Lord refers to himself in today’s Gospel as the Good Shepherd.  “Be ye sure that the Lord he is God,” says Psalm 99.  “It is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves.  We are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.”  And if we are God’s people and the sheep of his pasture, then surely it is the Son of God who is our Shepherd.  Our Good Shepherd, because how could Christ be anything other than good?

And how good is he?  Good enough to lay down his life for his sheep.  This goes beyond just giving them a bucket of peanuts now and again, or whatever sheep eat.  It goes even beyond rushing out in in the cold dark night to look for the missing sheep, or keeping watch for the wolves.  Would we give our life for a sheep?  We are so far above a mere sheep, are we not?  And yet how far above us is Our Lord Jesus Christ, Eternal Word and Son of God?  And yet he claims he would give his life for us.  They say that talk is cheap, but in the case of Our Lord, we know full well that he meant what he said.  Because of course he did it.  He gave his life for us sheep, so that we could return safe to our heavenly pasture.

And here’s where all this gentle language about sheep and shepherds starts to have an edge to it.  Our Lord brings in the notion of giving his life.  Of dying, in other words.  Death.  And not just death, but violent death.  And really if we think about it, our holy scriptures seem to have an awful lot of links between sheep and death.  I’ll leave you to delve through the pages of your Douay-Rheims and find all of them.  Let’s just mention a few so that we can begin to understand the reason for this connection.

As far back as Adam and Eve we find sheep.  Our first parents had two sons, as you know.  Cain and Abel.  The eldest, Abel, happened to be a shepherd.  And he was also the world’s first murder victim, slaughtered by his brother Cain because God had preferred Abel’s sacrifice to Cain’s.  What did Abel offer to God?  The first-born lambs of his flock of sheep.   While Cain offered to God whatever he had tilled from the ground.  And the Book of Genesis tells us that “the Lord had respect unto Abel and to his offering: but unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect.”  So now we have to ask ourselves why God accepted Abel’s offering of lambs rather than Cain’s bunch of carrots.

When God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac, he stopped him from doing so at the last minute and told Abraham to sacrifice a ram instead, a male sheep.  Again a sheep.  And during the ten plagues of Egypt, when God sent his Angel of Death to destroy every first-born male in the land, he spared the Hebrews by having them sprinkle the blood of a lamb on their doors.  The children of Israel were saved by the blood of the lamb.

And on it goes throughout the Old Testament, with the bloody sacrifices offered in the temple of Jerusalem.  And what kind of lamb did God require?  “Your lamb shall be without blemish”, ordered God.  “Thou shalt not sacrifice to the Lord thy God a lamb that has a blemish or anything evil, for this is an abomination to the Lord thy God.”  Our offerings must be pure and immaculate, without spot or blemish, and only then are they acceptable to God.  And so when St. John Baptist saw the Christ, he knew him to be sinless and without blemish, and he pointed him out and said:  “Behold the Lamb of God, behold him that taketh away the sins of the world.”

Finally, the perfect sacrifice, the spotless lamb who would die for his people, the Good Shepherd who would die for his sheep.  The fulfillment of all the prophecies.  In the Book of the Apocalypse, the Lamb again appears, and the cries of the great multitude in heaven cry out “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honour and glory and blessing.” 

Thank God that he has provided such a sacrifice for us, for without this infinite and divine sacrifice, we could never have worthily repaired the damage of sin.  We poor creatures are incapable of keeping ourselves for long out of sin, offending God constantly with our attachments to our own pleasures and the things of this world.

But God reminds us today of something truly wonderful that allows us mortal men to dare raise our eyes to God and ask for his pity.  For there is one creature, one blessed human being that God has created, who is as worthy as a mortal being could ever be, and who, like a lamb without blemish, has been immolated on the altar of compassion at the foot of the Cross itself.  There is one Immaculate Virgin Mary, Mother of God and Virgin most Renowned, whom the human race can hold up to God and say:  “Behold thy Mother.”  Behold one from amongst us who is blessed amongst women.  Who has crushed the head of the serpent with her heel.  Who alone among the children of men has been found without stain of sin.”  On this day, the day before the Month of May begins, the month dedicated to our Blessed Mother begins, the month of May, let us honour that Lady Conceived without Sin. Let us remember our own poor faults, and present to God his Mother as our representative and ambassador.  And it is she who will intercede with her Son, the Good Shepherd, for all his little lambs that have gone astray, all his people and the sheep of his pasture.

THE KING OF LOVE MY SHEPHERD IS

A HYMN FOR GOOD SHEPHERD SUNDAY

The King of love my shepherd is, 
Whose goodness faileth never.
I nothing lack if I am his,
And he is mine forever.

Where streams of living water flow,
My ransomed soul he leadeth;
And where the verdant pastures grow,
With food celestial feedeth.

Perverse and foolish, oft I strayed, 
But yet in love he sought me; 
And on his shoulder gently laid, 
And home, rejoicing, brought me.

In death's dark vale I fear no ill,
With thee, dear Lord, beside me; 
Thy rod and staff my comfort still, 
Thy cross before to guide me.

Thou spreadst a table in my sight;
Thy unction grace bestoweth; 
And oh, what transport of delight 
From thy pure chalice floweth!

And so through all the length of days,
Thy goodness faileth never; 
Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise 
Within thy house forever.

By H.W. Baker, 1868

WE ARE THE SHEEP OF HIS PASTURE

A MESSAGE FOR THE 2nd SUNDAY AFTER EASTER

Good Shepherd Sunday depicts a serene and bucolic scene of fuzzy lambs grazing in a lush pasture, as their ever humble and vigilant shepherd watches over them, smiling indulgently at his little flock.  In reality, the job of a shepherd can be anything but serene.  He must brave the elements, going out when necessary into the dead of night, the driving snow, gales and thunderstorms, to rescue the more adventurous members of his flock who have wandered off into the surrounding woods.  His first duty, which he must place before his own comfort and well-being, is the safety of his sheep, and he must make sure they are not bothered by the unpleasant marauders from outside the fold—the thieves who would steal the sheep for their wool or their meat, and the wolves who would devour them.

Christ declares himself to be the Good Shepherd.  And we echo the words of the Psalmist, humbly acknowledging that “we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.”  The analogy has many levels, but it is certainly humbling for us to grasp our own place in this relationship between Christ the Good Shepherd and us the sheep.  Sheep, after all, do not have a particularly good reputation for thinking for themselves, and of course, we modern men and women pride ourselves on being independent thinkers.  We do not blindly follow those who might lead us into error or other danger.  We question anyone whose views are not completely in accord with our own.  However, we need to remind ourselves that Christ, our Good Shepherd would never lead us astray, and that if his views do not agree with ours, then it is we who must correct our erroneous positions, and not the omnipotent and all-knowing God.

Our divine Saviour is a shepherd whom we may safely follow “wheresover he leadeth,” who will, if only we stay close to him, deliver us from the stealthy attacks of the wolves, and from the snares of the dark forest of evil and lies that surrounds us.  In his loving mercy, he has provided us with a holy Church, the chief pastor of which is supposed to act as his Vicar.  What a slap in the face it is, then, to this merciful divine Providence, when that Vicar of Christ who is supposed to be our Pastor, our “good” Shepherd, deceives his sheep and deliberately leads them astray, betraying their simple trust in him whom they believe to be our Lord’s own  representative on earth.

In these dark days when we no longer have a visible shepherd whom we can trust, it is crucial that we remember the words of our Lord that “Blessed are they that have not seen, yet have believed.”  We must place our faith in the unseen yet ever-present Good Shepherd, never questioning, but blindly following him towards that heaven where we know he leads us.

IN SEARCH OF THE RISEN LORD

A SERMON FOR LOW SUNDAY

Today is the Octave Day of Easter, a week since the Resurrection of Our Lord.  We know this day by many other names:  as Low Sunday, for example, to contrast it with the “high holydays” of the Sacred Triduum and Easter itself.  Or as Quasimodo Sunday, after the first word of the Introit.  A common name in Latin is Dominica in Albis.  The word “Albis” means white and refers to the white robes of the newly baptized catechumens, who have been wearing these “albs” during Easter week, and who today would finally put them aside after receiving their First Holy Communion.  In the Eastern Church today is known as St. Thomas Sunday, after the story in the Gospel of Doubting Thomas.

Whatever name we give to this first Sunday after Easter, we are reminded of the continuation of the Easter season beyond the octave itself.  In our churches, the lilies continue to adorn our altars, and white continues to be the liturgical colour.  The Alleluia, so long suppressed during the time leading up to Easter, is now used more than ever, with the Great Alleluia replacing the Gradual and Tract before the Gospel.  It is still a joyful time, and I hope this joy is reflected in your sense of peace and tranquility, knowing that the gates of heaven have been re-opened.

Our joy during this extended period of Eastertide, however, can be nothing like the breath-taking joy experienced by Our Lord’s disciples during that very first Easter week.  In the Gospels of Easter week, we see example after example of Our Lord’s apparitions to his apostles and disciples.  One of the most moving of these of these accounts is the story of St. Mary Magdalene, and the path she walked, from anguish to mere worry, and then from panic to exultation.

Her anguish of course came when she stood at the foot of the Cross on Good Friday, along with the Blessed Mother and St. John.  Poor Mary Magdalene, who seemed to spend so much time at the feet of Our Lord.  We remember her in the house of Simon the leper, the Saturday before the Passion, when she broke the vase of precious ointment, pouring it over the feet of Jesus, bathing those feet with her tears and wiping them with her hair.  Now we meet her again at the foot of the Cross, unwilling to tear herself away.  Her burning love for Our Lord makes her indifferent to everything else.  She wants him and him alone, the rest doesn’t interest her.

On Easter Sunday she cannot keep herself away from Our Lord, and returns early that morning to the sepulcher.  She immediately notices that the stone has been rolled away from the entrance to the tomb, and she is gripped by anxiety:  “They have taken away my Lord.”  So strong is her fear of not being able to find him, that she seems to become disoriented, and questions everyone she meets, repeating the same questions:  Who could have taken him?  Where have they taken him?  She tells it to St. Peter and St. John, who come running to see for themselves.  She tells it to the Angels she finds at the tomb.  She tells it even to Jesus himself, when she mistakes him for a gardener.

The other women, when they find the sepulcher open, they go in to find out what has happened.  But Mary Magdalene runs off to bring the news to the Apostles.  Then she returns.  She comes back to the empty tomb.  She isn’t really sure why, but she knows she must remain close to the place where Our Lord’s body had been, that body she wants to find at any cost.

She sees the Angels, but is so consumed with grief at not finding Our Lord, that she doesn’t marvel, she doesn’t even have room for fear in her heart, or any other emotion.  And when the Angels ask her:  “Woman, why weepest thou?” she has only one answer:  “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.”  Later, Jesus asks her the same question, and Mary, totally absorbed in her own thoughts, doesn’t even recognize him, but “thinking that it was the gardener”, she says to him:  “Sir, if thou hast taken him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.”  The thought of finding Jesus has now so occupied her mind, that in her panic she doesn’t even feel the need of giving his name; it seems to her that all the world must be thinking of him too, that everyone would immediately understand.

We think back on the Resurrection as a joyful occasion, we who have the benefit of knowing the whole story.  But imagine the worry, the panic even, of one like Mary Magdalene, who loved so much (said Our Lord) that she was forgiven so much.  One who loved Our Lord with every fiber in her body, where there was no longer any room for other loves in her soul, or for other desires, or pre-occupations.  The movements of this soul were directed solely towards God, and through all her other thoughts, words, and deeds, she did nothing but seek God alone.

How far removed is this from our own state.  How regrettable it is that our own love of God is so lukewarm in comparison with this woman’s.  How it must wound Our Lord, bitterly, when he hears our poor excuses why we don’t desire to be holy, or at least to be without sin, when we consider someone fanatical because they want to go to daily Mass or receive Holy Communion as often as they can.  And yet we make these excuses all the time.  We’re too pre-occupied, too busy with other “important” matters for intangible things like “Sacraments.”.  As if anything could be as important as God.  As our salvation.

Keep this picture of yourself in your mind.  And then compare it with the picture of Mary Magdalene dashing around in her panic to find Our Lord.  How ashamed we should all feel at our lack of true love for God, our lack of desire and enthusiasm to find Our Lord. 

There is a story about a holy monk who lived in Egypt. One day a young man came to visit him. The young man asked: "Oh, holy man, I want to know how to find God." The monk was muscular and burly. He said: "Do you really want to find God?" The young man answered: "Oh, but I do."

So the monk took the young man down to the river. Suddenly, the monk grabbed the young man by the neck and held his head under water. At first the young man thought the monk was giving him a special baptism. But when after two minutes the monk didn’t let go, the young man began struggling. Still the monk wouldn’t release him. Second by second, the young man fought harder and harder. After five and a half minutes, the monk pulled the young man out of the water and said: "When you desire God as much as you desired air, you will find God."

The key to finding God is simply how much you desire to find him.  St. Mary Magdalene, on that first Easter morning, wanted desperately to find her Lord.  And when the man she thought was a gardener spoke to her, calling her by her name, “Mary,” she finally recognized him, and fell once more at her familiar place, at the feet of her master.  The Good Shepherd “calleth his own sheep by name, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice”.  When Mary hears her name, she recognizes the Lord and cries out, “Master!”

At that moment she was perhaps closer to God than she had ever felt before.  Her Lord was risen from the dead, he was truly God.  And she must have reached out to clasp again those feet over which she had so recently poured ointment and dried them with her hair.  But this time Our Lord pulled away and said to her gently:  “Noli me tangere” – “Touch me not”.  He is God, the Most Highest, the Most Holy.  There is always an infinite distance between the Creator and his creature, between the one who is, and the one who is not.  And the nearer the soul comes to God, the more it is made to realize (as Mary Magdalene was so very gently reminded by Our Lord that first Easter Sunday) that there is this infinite distance, and so is born in us a profound sentiment of reverence for the supreme majesty of God.

Today Our Lord is asking us the question he asked of St. Mary Magdalene.  “Whom seekest thou?”  Can we reply that we are seeking him alone?  Look in the mirror and ask yourself the question.  Could it possibly be that your answer is something like:  “Well, yes, I’d like to find God, but if I don’t I’m not going to lose any sleep over it.”  How far removed is this from the desperation of St. Mary Magdalene, or the young man with his face in the water gasping for air.  He wanted to be a saint.  But this wasn’t the answer he was looking for.  He thought the monk would tell him to recite a list of prayers, or give his coat to some poor beggar, but this?  This desire to breathe so strong he has no ability to think of anything else… 

We are not entitled to heaven.  We cannot be so simple-minded as to believe that all God requires of us is to believe what happened in the Bible.  We must take it a step further.  He died on the Cross for us, not so that we can just smile and say thank you, but so that we will learn by his example that it is in a life of struggling against our fallen nature, struggling to carry all our heavy pains and sufferings (our crosses), struggling to practice virtue in the face of the persecution and mockery of others, and in the face of the lukewarm and selfish appetites of our own poor flesh, it is only in all this that we may learn to find our risen Lord.  And we never quite get there, there is always that infinite distance between us and him.  But if we desire it, we will do what it takes.  We will struggle.  And we will persevere until we find him.  And how great will then be our joy when our loving Shepherd calls us by our name, and we can finally lie down at his feet for ever.