This sermon originally included the names of a lot of real people, which was fine when spoken but is inappropriate on the Web.  With the exception of my brother, his wife and the Japanese potter Takeshita Shikamaru, all the names in this written version have been changed to invented names of the same ethnicity as the originals.  I don’t know any people who have these names, and if I have invented a name of someone you know it’s purely coincidental.

Acts 10:44-48 | John 15:9-17
I had thought this sermon through before I realised that I’d be giving it on Mothers Day, …

Psalm 23 | John 10:11-18
I’ve always found the sheep stories in the Bible a bit hard to take.

Partly, I’m sure, its something to do with the suburban life that I live. My encounters with sheep are limited, brief, and mostly from a distance. Apart from the very occasional visit to the Easter show, sheep for me are basically white blobs which dot the hillside – and my encounters with shepherds are rare still. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a conversation with a shepherd, not sure I’ve even met one.

Of course it made sense for David, and Jesus, to talk about shepherds and sheep. That was the world they knew, the world they experienced. It’s not mine. Not, I’m guessing, yours. Not likely to be Nathan’s, when he grows up.

But that’s not my main problem with the sheep stories. We know that the Bible presents us with problems of context, of making sense, in our modern age, of stories told in an ancient world. It’s part of the struggle of reading scripture – and it is testament to the incredible power of the Biblical narrative that despite all the changes in the world since the words were first written, they still ring true for us today.

No, my problem with the stories of God as shepherd and us as sheep is basically this: sheep are stupid. I mean, maybe I’m wrong, as I said, I don’t know a lot of sheep, but as far as I can see, the main thing you can say about sheep is that they are not the brightest animals in the field.

Psalm 118:19-29 | John 12:12-16
The Passover festival was approaching, the high point of the Jewish year, the one time that every Jew who possibly could, would come into the city, and come to the Temple. Jerusalem was packed – every inn full to overflowing, every street packed with stalls, animals, and people, people, people. The air was full of the sounds and smells of life.

But Jerusalem, in the days of Jesus, did not belong to the Jewish people. As Jews came to the Temple they could not miss the watchtower, the Roman military building built to overlook the Temple, to watch over the holy places of the Jewish faith. As the faithful entered to worship, they could see Roman soldiers looking down upon them. Resentment against the Roman occupiers ran high, and the Jewish revolutionary zealots found in this resentment an ideal opportunity to recruit for their cause.

For Passover was a religious festival, but it was more than that. At Passover the Jews celebrated the event which had defined them as a people; God setting them freedom from slavery in Egypt. Passover was not just a celebration of the Jewish religion, but of being set free from oppression; set free by an unlikely leader and the hand of God. And there were many who longed for the same to happen again – for freedom, this time from Rome.

And the Roman authorities were well aware of this – of the meaning of Passover, of the political implications, of the stories of the people being set free from oppression. And they had no hesitation in stepping in to crush even a hint of rebellion.

Now add to the political tension, another layer. Human nature being what it was, Passover was also a commercial opportunity. Animals had to be purchased for sacrifice, money had to be changed (because Roman currency was not acceptable for offering at the Temple), rooms and meals had to be purchased – and there will always be those who are ready to provide these services at a healthy profit.

Put together the massive crowds, the political tension, and the money involved – and the city of Jerusalem at Passover was a tinderbox – a mass of frustration, and resentment, with sporadic violence and, never far from the surface, the possibility of riot.

Ephesians 2:1-10 | John 3:14-21
Surely the best known reference in the Bible, John 3:16 has been used over and again as a one sentence summary of the gospel: For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
And with good reason. For in this one verse are captured some absolutely core truths of the message of Jesus: that the mission of Jesus was motivated by the love of God; that God’s response to human need is to give; that God’s deepest desire is that all might share with God in the joy of eternal life.

Or, as Rob McFarlane put it on facebook earlier this week, “Grammatically and theologically this shows that God’s love is greater than wrath; God’s fundamental purpose is to give life”.

As John continues, God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world… that wasn’t the point. Judgement wasn’t Jesus’ agenda… but in order that the world might be saved through him.

Those who believe in him are not judged, but those who do not believe in him are judged already because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God.

Suddenly it’s all a bit more messy, a bit more complicated.

Exodus 20:9-11 | Mark 11:15-19
I wonder if you recognise these words:

God is love, and whoever lives in love, lives in God.

Brothers and sisters, let us love one another, for love is the fulfilling of the law.

Or what about these?

I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies

Woe to you, blind guides, hypocrites, For you cross sea and land to make a single convert, and you make the new convert twice as much a child of hell as yourselves