In many ways this week we are reaching the climax of the story of our salvation.  We have been reflecting on the death and resurrection of Jesus for 5 weeks now, trying to let it settle in.  To get our minds, and our souls, wrapped around the idea that we do not have to fear sin or death because Jesus defeated sin on the cross and defeated death in the resurrection.  And we, by being incorporated into Jesus through the sacraments, share in his victory.

And, now, at the climax of the story, before Jesus ascends into heaven, he gives us what he calls a “new commandment.”  

He commands us to “love one another.” 

If you stop here, his command makes no sense.  It’s not new.  It’s all over the Old Testament.  Love of God and love of neighbor is the theme of the Old Covenant.  

What is new about this command?  You have to keep reading: 

I give you a new commandment: love one another.

Just as I have loved you, you also must love one another.

Ah!  There is the new part.  "Just as I have loved you," he says.  Jesus does not command us to some nebulous kind of love, not some non-specific kind of positive regard, not some simple tolerance on one side, or fuzzy appreciation on the other.

He commands us to love each other—just as he loved us.  God became man, and walked among us, to give us an example of the kind of love we are called to live.

So let us look at the kind of love that Jesus is commanding us to live.

1^st it is Generous.  It truly wants the best for the other.  Jesus’ love was the kind that delights in giving gifts to others.  He made 120 gallons of delicious wine to make a good party better.  But Jesus-love does not only delight in giving gifts to friends and family—it overflows the bounds of natural connections.  He fed the hungry, cared for the needy, visited the lonely, spoke words of tenderness to the outcast.  And we are called to live this kind of generous love that cares for itself, and treats the needs of others as seriously as its own.  Do we feel called to living more generously?  Volunteering some time or resources to helping those who are in need?

2^nd, it is Non-judgmental.  Now don’t get me wrong.  Jesus style, non-judgmental love does not suffer from moral ambiguity or confusion.  Jesus style love knows what is right and is not willing to compromise on principles.  Jesus style love does judge actions and denounce sins, but it does not judge people.  Jesus love, being a human kind of love, is comfortable with its limitations, and understands that only God knows the heart, only God knows all the circumstances.  Is there someone, or some group of someones, that you judge unjustly?  Is there someone that you need to accept, as a person, even if you see their sin? 

Connected to this is the 3^rd characteristic, Jesus love is Forgiving.  It seeks reconciliation with everyone.  It seeks healing in relationships, even those torn by selfishness and sin.  Jesus, from the cross, where he won our salvation, was even willing to forgive those who were at that time crucifying him.  We are called to be so full of Jesus love that we have the ability to offer forgiveness even to those who do not deserve it.  That does not mean trusting them, or foolishly depending on them, but forgiving them—that is, seeking to heal the relationship if possible, and not seeking revenge.  Is there someone that Jesus is calling you to forgive?

The 4^th characteristic of Jesus love.  It is Transformative.  It takes in sin, suffering, denial, rejection, and pain—and it gives back holiness, comfort, acceptance, and love.  It’s like a spiritual vacuum cleaner that sucks up bad stuff and gives out good stuff.  Now this does not mean that we are to cower under pain and suffering, or that we allow people to viciously abuse us.  Jesus does command us to turn the other cheek, but this is most certainly not cowardice.  It is the defiant refusal to let the evil of someone else control you and to make you give back in like kind.  Is there some suffering, denial, rejection, or pain that you are being called to take on in the name of Christ?  The pain of daring to share your faith, or speak against sin, with people who might reject you?  Is there some relationship where you have greater spiritual and emotional resources—so you need to just take it on the chin and respond with courageous love instead of simply fighting back?   

The final characteristic of Jesus style love is that it is Sacrificial.  The 1^st Letter of John says: “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.”  Of course, this could mean literally.  It could mean that our deep realization of our freedom from sin or death leads us to give our life for another.  But for most of us we are not faced with this kind of martyrdom.  But we certainly have opportunities for sacrificial living.  When we deny ourselves the things that we want, so that others can enjoy something.  On the natural level, parents do this when they choose to give up the best of things—time, money, resources and pleasures— for their kids.  Then later in life, the children returning the favor and caring for the needs of their elderly parents.  But Jesus-love calls us to extend this sacrificial generosity beyond our natural obligations.  Denying ourselves extravagances so that we can give some money to the poor or to charities, on our own terms, not just because we get taxed.  Is there some way in which you are being called to give up something that you want, for the good of your family?  Your friends?   For God?

It is only when we focus on living these five characteristics of Jesus love: being generous, non-judgmental, forgiving, transformative, and sacrificial—that we begin to fulfill Jesus parting command—to love one another, as he loved us.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled.  
You have faith in God; have faith also in me."

[standing next to altar, holding up candle topper] 

Everyone calls these little glass things on top of the altar candles “wind protectors” and I guess that’s an appropriate term.  

If you carry the candles outside they certainly would protect the little flame from getting blown out by the wind.

But why do we have the “wind protectors” on the candles inside the protection of the Church [inclusive gesture], next to the altar, where there is no threat of a wind?

Because that’s not what they do here.  They do not protect the flame.  [place topper on candle and pause for the flickering to start]

The same guard that protects the flame from threatening winds outside, actually makes the flame flicker when inside.  The guard disrupts the way the air can get to the wick, making it dance, so we actually keep the candles guarded to keep the flame troubled, because it looks more beautiful that way.

Some of these same dynamics are at play with our hearts.  Under threats we need to guard the love our hearts give off from the winds that can destroy the fragile little flame. 

When the winds of hate are blowing, in the storm of a separation or divorce, under the gust of death, or the gales of suffering, we need to protect our hearts and the little flame of love that they support. 

But these same protections, when all is calm, only serve to trouble our hearts.  

Like the flame, a guarded heart is safe, but it is troubled.

And this trouble is not beautiful in our hearts like it is in the candles…and in today's Gospel, Jesus is calling us to have untroubled hearts.  That means hearts that are unguarded, vulnerable, trusting, and generous.  The protection of our faith in God and in Jesus [inclusive gesture] protects the flame of our love so that it can’t be blown out.  And we are called to drop our guard, to dare to trust, to move beyond our fear of rejection, and to illuminate the world around us with untroubled light.

In the gospel today Jesus refers to himself as the Shepherd. The early Church was very fond of this image. One of the earliest images we have of Jesus is found in the Catacomb of San Callisto. It is a fresco from the early 3rd century. It depicts Jesus as the Good Shepherd with a little lamb on his shoulders.  He is carrying a bucket in his right hand.  He has a youthful face and short hair.  

Jesus, who perfectly understands us, was sacrificed as an innocent lamb, so that he could arise as our Shepherd.

When the early Christians, who were steeped in the Old Testament, heard Jesus call himself their shepherd they would have immediately connected to several passages in the Hebrew Scriptures in which God says that he himself will shepherd Israel. 

Especially they would think of Ezekiel 34. Where God promises: "As a shepherd seeks out his flock when some of his sheep have been scattered abroad, so will I seek out my sheep; and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness. I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will give them rest, says the Lord GOD."  It is a tender and touching image. The shepherd seeking and finding the little sheep that is lost in the fog and darkness—afraid, alone, and vulnerable. And bringing it back safely to the flock, where it can feel safe and rest.

When the people of the 1st century heard Jesus call himself a shepherd they would have been able to draw not only from Scripture, but also from their own experience to know what that means. Most contemporary Americans probably have very little experience of sheep or those who care for them, but for the person Jesus was saying this to it would have been something they were very familiar with—and even depended on. 

When I was recently in Austria, my friend and I were hiking along a mountain path. We came to the top of a hill and found a peaceful valley below us. We decided to take a break and eat our sandwiches there. While we were eating we had the opportunity to witness an interesting scene. First I heard a very odd sound. I had no idea what it was. Eventually I found it was the sound of hundreds of little bells ringing. Little bells attached to hundreds of little sheep. I finally saw, in the distance, on the other side of the valley, off to my left, a herd of sheep come spilling over the mountain top on the other side. They wandered down in neat little rows towards the valley bottom. A few minutes later, I heard the volume increase, off to my right, and saw another little flock of sheep appear. They also spilled into the valley, mixing with the other sheep. My friend and I were intrigued by the scene, wondering if this was the same herd in two parts, or not. And if they would have to separate them. I wondered if this was a mistake. But I watched the little shepherds, small as ants, walk over to each other with their dogs, seemingly calm. We finished lunch, but decided to stay and watch. After some time had passed, the shepherds decided to keep the flocks moving. They each went to opposite sides of the valley and gave a series of whistles and calls and started walking away. The sheep, knowing exactly which one was their shepherd, gradually separated themselves and headed off in different directions.  It was an amazing scene.

The sheep knew which shepherd was their own. They knew they could trust him because he had proven himself faithful. They didn’t know because they were born knowing. They didn’t know because someone had told them. They knew through association. They had spent so much time with their shepherd that they knew his voice, they knew his call, his whistle, they even knew his walk. He would whistle when he led them to food or water. He would call to them when he would bath them or give them medicine. He would call to them together when the predators arrived. When they were lost in the fog, they would see his peculiar stride appear in the mist to comfort them and lead them home to the flock. They knew him and they associated his call with food and safety—so they followed him.

Jesus is our shepherd.   And we know his voice.  And we learn his voice through familiarity.  We hear his call when he feeds us with the Eucharist and washes us in baptism.  We know the whistle he gives when he heals us with confession and sacramental anointing.  It’s his voice that protects us from harm through the moral teaching of the church.  It is his voice that gathers us together today—to worship. And we have to struggle to remain united so that we are not vulnerable.  To be strong we simply must unite into one flock, under the one shepherd.  But mostly, we have to pray, spend intimate time alone with God, so that we can hear the peculiar whistle that he gives, and hear his words of encouragement.

So that in weeks like this, or any time when the clouds and fog of confusion, pain, suffering, exhaustion, and fear, descend on us—even if our vision is obscured, we can recognize him walking through the mist to come and find us—and he can lead us out of the fog, towards courage, forgiveness, and peace.  And we are able to act with confidence in following him, just like those sheep on that Austrian hill that day.