The Death of the Hired Man John 10:11-18, 1 John 3:16-24

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.”
The good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,
He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside the still waters,
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
the valley of the shadow,
the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I fear no evil,
for you are with me.
I am the sheep – the sheep who has a good shepherd,
a good shepherd who lays down his life for me.

I’m not exactly a country boy, though I’ve adapted pretty well to country life
and my recent week in the large city of Odessa, Ukraine
helped clarify my natural inclinations to a slower pace of life.
I don’t know sheep.
I don’t know shepherds.
But I do know enough of you dog lovers and horse lovers
to imagine without difficulty
the possibility of one of you risking your own life
to protect the life of your beloved appaloosa or chocolate lab.
My life is precious to me
and when I read John’s metaphor of the good shepherd who loves his sheep
enough to give up his life for them
I can imagine the depth of care, the strength of connection,
the single-minded devotion that goes into such a relationship.

I read the tenth chapter of John and the question I always ask myself is,
“Could I do that? Could I lay down my life for someone?
is there any person, any cause so great
that I would put my own life at risk
for the sake of that person or that cause?”
That’s an important question to ask ourselves.
It’s a profound point to ponder, for sure.
But I don’t think that’s the question Jesus is raising here.

I don’t think Jesus wants to know if we ourselves
could serve as a stand-in for the good shepherd.
We HAVE a good shepherd
We only need one.

I think the question Jesus is asking is not, “Can you be a good shepherd, too?”
The question Jesus is asking is, “Can you be a good sheep?”
Jesus, the Good Shepherd, has already laid down his life for us.
The question for us is this: Will we receive his gift?
Will we relate to him as to one who has already made the first move
to be intimately connected with us?
Or will we treat him as simply a hired hand, a mercenary,
one who may have ulterior motives
and who should be taken with a giant grain of salt?

One of the side effects of living in a free-market economy
is that we tend to see every aspect of our lives, every relationship,
as an economic transaction.
Do you remember back in junior high how sometimes you chose your friends
based on the idea that hanging out with a popular person
would increase your own popularity?
Or maybe you weren’t quite that desperate
but at least do you remember choosing NOT to be some unpopular child’s friend
because others might think you equally inept or uncool?

Bill Clinton’s famous campaign slogan was “It’s the economy, stupid!”
and that’s so true – so true of every aspect of our lives.
We grow up in this culture with calculators clicking away in our brains
measuring value added against resources expended
assuming that no one does anything for anyone
without expecting something in return.
And God help the poor soul whose debts grow too large.
How can you possibly show your face in public
if it’s been over six months and you still haven’t had a dinner party at your house
to pay back those who have already invited you.

The truth is, we treat each other like hired hands,
like somebody on the payroll who can’t be expected to act out of grace
without asking something in return.
Every act of kindness toward me feels like a burden I’ve got to repay.
Every expression of generosity gets entered in a ledger somewhere.
We even relate to God this way.

In 1 John we read:
Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God;
and we receive from him whatever we ask, because we obey his commandments
and do what pleases him.

To our consumer-oriented ears that sounds like a deal being struck,
a quid pro quo business arrangement.
If I obey God’s commandments and do what pleases God,
God has to give me whatever I ask for.
It’s the kind of deal you make with a hired hand,
and then monitor closely to make sure you get all you deserve.

But we are not God’s hired hands, nor is God ours.
From the beginning God has promised we will not get what we deserve,
and thank God for that!
1 John says, “We know love by this – that he laid down his life for us.”
There’s no way we deserve that.
It is God’s gift and it lifts us out of our free-market, consumer oriented frame of mind
into a whole new realm of grace.

If you enjoy the poetry of Robert Frost,
you know his poem, “The Death of the Hired Man.”
The poem centers on a conversation between Mary and her husband Warren,
about the hired man, Silas, who, like a bad penny keeps turning up.
One evening when Warren returns from town, Mary warns him that Silas has come back,
and in their conversation it becomes clear that Silas has proven unreliable,
one of those workers who promises big but has no follow through.
His one skill is knowing how to build a load of hay
but that’s a small consolation compared to the times he’s left them in the lurch.

As the conversation progresses, the hard edge of Warren’s frustration at Silas softens
and they reflect on the sadness of his life,
how he has “nothing to look back on in pride and noting to look forward to in hope.”
Is it Silas’ own fault that he has little to show for his life?
Maybe.
It does appear that he has squandered the days God gave him
always taking the easier path,
making promises,
but then forgetting those promises when something better came along.

Still, Mary and Warren come to the realization
that Silas’ past mistakes mean very little in the grand scheme things.
For good or for ill, his life is intertwined with theirs
and, in Mary’s words, he has come home to die.
Warren gently mocks her use of the word, “Home.”
What makes THEIR farm this hired man’s home?
She responds, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
they have to take you in.”
And she continues, “I should have called it something you somehow haven’t to deserve.”

At the end of the poem, Warren goes in to check on Silas
and discovers that the hired man has indeed died.
But the point of the poem is that the hired man had already died.
As Mary and Warren reflected together on the sum of Silas’ life
and realized that theirs was not longer the relationship of employer and employee
with all the burden of weighing obligations against performance,
the careful calculation of effort expended and rewards deserved.
Silas wasn’t their hired hand any longer. He was their brother. A Fellow traveler
a child of God in the human family.
The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.
Not as a hired hand, who runs away at the first sign of trouble,
because, let’s face it, there’s nothing in his job description about risking his life.

This morning we gather for communion signifying that God’s kingdom
is not a free-market economy where we get what we deserve.
Thank God.
There is a place for business deals, for contracts,
for employers and employees, but not here. Not here.
Here we celebrate the undeserved love of God
shown us in the care of the Good Shepherd.
What else can we do but resolve to be the best sheep we can be.