Red Heads and Whiskey

Red Headed Women and Whiskey!

Imagine this: there is someone willing to give their life for you! Mother bears are known to be fierce if someone were to come between her and the cubs. Mothers and fathers will often set themselves in harm’s way when their children are at risk. 

But what about you? Me? What about the vulnerable in our midst? Or the rejected and sinful? The lonesome, the elderly, the poor, the sick, the foreign born? The unloved of the social order? Is there someone who will give their life for them? For you? Whoever you are?

Today’s Gospel gives us an unequivocal answer to that question. Jesus did. This is why we have Good Shepherd Sunday. We proclaim that whoever you are and whatever you’ve done, whatever your status, whether upright and righteous, or a miserable sinner, there is Someone who will give their life for you.

Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. And again; “I am the good shepherd…And I lay down my life for the sheep. And I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.” Ever wonder, as I do, who those “other sheep” are? It seems Jesus continues to gather us in ever widening circles of God’s inclusive love.

And yes, the Good Shepherd knows the sheep each by name. I’m still working on that and your name tags and the photos I’m taking at coffee hour are helping enormously. Thank you. 

I once met a real shepherd from Greece years ago. I was involved in community organizing efforts in Hyde Park during the Busing Crisis. I met this fellow at a meeting then, and discovered that he had been a shepherd boy as a youth, I asked him what it takes to be a “good” shepherd. He was a grizzled, short, stocky fella. He was well worn in years and attire. He responded to me in an instant;

“Tree tings; First, you gotta know de sheep’s namzz. Dey don’ trus you ‘cept you know dey namzz. Two; dogs…you gotta have dogs. Trained dogs. Dey keeps de sheeps togeddah. Tree, every once ‘en a while you gotta whacken de sheeps upside de hed when dey steps outta line.”

That last one reminded me of my family elders. They taught me to keep a low profile. And they taught me to mind. 

Jesus is our Good Shepherd. And he gives his life for us. Think about that. You. Your life is worth the Savior’s life. God’s only son! Period. Full stop. Each and every one of you. The constitution says we are equal to one another. But in God’s Kingdom, your citizenship confers much more than mere equality. Each one of you is infinitely precious to God. You are not just equal but infinitely and unconditionally beloved of God. Got that? Not up here intellectually, but in here in your heart of hearts!

Jesus is your Good Shepherd. He knows you each by Name. He loves YOU so much he will lay his life down for you. Say that, pray that every day of your life until you believe that!

Likewise John tells us in today’s Epistle; “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us-- and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.” Now, as a parish priest, I am certainly willing to take some reasonable risks, but I have a wife and family and giving up my life for the likes of you? (A shrug of the shoulder here.)

In point of fact, my life has been threatened twice during my professional priesthood.  The first time, I was in Hyde Park, Boston during Phase Two of the Busing Crisis. On the eve of my first Sunday on the job, I received a phone call and the woman on the other end of the line said; “You say one word about busing and we will kill you.” It was a very hot summer’s night, and the next day was hot and humid as I began my first service at Christ Church. There was but a handful in church. I will admit to you, I was downright terrified.

The second time was different. Allow me to tell this story.

When I was at St. Mark’s Church in West Virginia, I found myself in the hotbed of controversy over the building of a homeless shelter. Our church operated what was called Christ’s Kitchen, a free breakfast and lunch program for the poor in our midst. There were a number of homeless folks who ate there and who lived along the riverbank and under a bridge. One especially stormy night a small band of homeless folk put together a makeshift shelter of cardboard boxes. They set a fire to keep warm. Things got out of control and when the smoke cleared three people had died. 

The press came by to investigate. We went over to the site of the fire and in what was one of the most shameful things I’ve ever seen, I watched as a garbage truck from the department of Public Works cleared the scene of all the worldly possessions of the homeless and the police gave tickets to them for littering and vagrancy. Not only had they lost their friends in the fire, all their worldly possessions were gone and they were facing court action and fines for the crime of being homeless. The reporter and I documented and published the sequence of events.

We went back to Christ’s Kitchen to collect ourselves in the aftermath the trauma. And then in a moment of inspiration, I said to the remaining band of homeless folk; “Give me your tickets!”. The reporter and I went out to the front steps of the church and I brandished the tickets in front of a camera and announced that the police had harassed the homeless at the direction of city authorities, and that I had taken the tickets into my possession and if the courts wanted to collect fines they’d have to get the money out of me. The story hit the front page of the Charleston Gazette.

The response from the city was predictable. The next morning I arrived at my office to find my secretary in tears and she told me that the President of the City Council had called and and was in a state of outrage. He said to her and I quote; “Those Irish, the only thing they brought to this country was red headed women and whiskey”. The press were there waiting for a quote from me. I was ready;

“I’ll have one of each!” 

The conflict in the early stages was palpable. Nobody wanted a homeless shelter in their neighborhood. I faced the fury of the NIMBY syndrome and even a lawsuit. One night Cindy received a phone call from an especially hostile person, and the voice said; “We’re going to kill your husband.” Cindy being Cindy, replied as only Cindy can; “Yeah, take a numbah, I want to kill him too sometimes!” We both laughed heartily if also somewhat nervously. She did seem to take some of the steam out of the threat. 

Thus began a sequence of events that led to the building of a homeless shelter. I shall never forget all the parishioners, community leaders, lawyers, police, civic leaders and so on who became a part of a collaborative effort to build that shelter. What had begun in controversy and confrontation, eventually became a galvanizing rally point for constructive cooperative ministry.

Folks, we hope it doesn’t always come to the “last full measure of our devotion”, but truth be told we may have to put our lives on the line for our neighbors, our families, and especially the vulnerable in our midst, and God knows there are plenty of those these days.

Salvation come to us in the willingness to love one another as Jesus loves us. So lets be careful when today’s lesson from Acts tell us; “There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved, but the Name of Jesus.” Let’s be clear, we are not talking about two syllables; “Je-sus” that is to say the name alone, we are talking about what that Holy Name stands for, namely, the Holy One who lays down his life for us. And so too we are called to lay down our lives for one another if in fact it comes to that. Salvation then, is living the life Jesus lived as the Good Shepherd of his people, willing to put ourselves on the line for the God’s flock.

There are those times when we face the fury of those who feel threatened by our willingness to love the unlovable. Whether it is in a busing crisis, or the homeless, or the many more who find themselves outcast in our contemporary social order. We are not alone either in these moments of personal risk or even in the long last road of our suffering. The Good Shepherd is always with us. When Barbara Bush faced her long last hours she did so with grace, humor and above all, faith. 

For as the magnificent and stirring words of the Psalter say; 

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me…Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.”

In the Name of God, the Most Holy, Undivided and Everlasting Trinity. Amen. 

Fr Paul