Fourth Sunday of Easter 2024

 

Lectionary readings: Acts 4.5-12 and John 10.11-18

Around 12,000 years ago the world was emerging from the most recent Ice Age. Humans had spread through every continent. There were in total around 1 million of them, and they were all hunter gatherers. If they were going to develop beyond that, they would need to develop farming. And that required several factors (such as significant rivers) but two things in particular: indigenous cereals, to produce a food surplus freeing up some of the community to do other things; and the kind of animals you can put to work, of which there are surprisingly few. Australia had no natural advantages. Africa and the Americas, both lying north-south through several distinct climate zones, had limited cereals (sorghum, millet; maize, quinoa) or suitable animals (camel, donkey; llama, alpaca). With a temperate climate stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific, producing wheat, barley, millet, and rice, and home to the sheep, goat, pig, cow, and horse, Eurasian farmers had a distinct advantage [see A. Wilson, Remaking the World]. This is why we see the early rise of so many major civilisations—and empires—in this part of the world, growing around the Tigris and Euphrates, the Indus, the Yellow and Yangtze rivers, as well as the Nile. These are not the only major civilisations, of course, but they are the earliest.

Across this zone, settled communities developed houses: and, across the many diverse cultures of this zone those houses—from humble homes to royal palaces—took form around an internal, or interior, courtyard. Why? In part because it was easier for humans (as well as for grains and other animals) to move east-west, learning from one another. And in part because the internal courtyard offered several advantages:

it invites natural light, while maintaining privacy—walls also storing the sun’s heat for nighttime warmth (passive heating).

it encourages air movement, providing a welcome cooling breeze in warmer regions and helping to maintain thermal equilibrium (passive cooling).

It collects and stores rainwater, typically in a shallow pool, for use in drier times.

it creates relaxing space, a safe place to enjoy company, eat and drink together, discuss ideas.

The internal courtyard is a key indicator of having moved beyond surviving into flourishing.

Which is all very interesting (or perhaps not) but what has it to do with our readings from the Bible (Acts 4.5-12 and John 10.11-18)? Well, our readings bring together an image from the world of agriculture and an image from the world of architecture.

Let’s start with Jesus, and his words, ‘I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice.’ The word translated ‘fold’ is the word for an internal courtyard. It can mean sheepfold (its primary meaning in the metaphor of sheep and shepherd) but it also refers to the interior courtyard of a house or palace. Jesus brings those who come to him into his internal courtyard, where we see by his beautiful light; experience the breeze of the Holy Spirit; are cleansed and renewed in baptism, fed in holy communion; and can relax knowing that we are safe from harm. In him, there is, simply put, a rightness to the world.

Now let’s turn to Peter. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Peter quotes Psalm 118: “the stone that was rejected by you, the builders; it has become the cornerstone.” Literally, it has become ‘the head of the corner.’ The cornerstone is the architrave (the ‘chief beam’) that sits on top of, and holds together, the columns that support the roof, so that the roof—having a large hole in it to let in light and air and water, doesn’t collapse.

Peter’s experience of the church is of a dwelling—a family home, a royal palace—being built for all people around an internal courtyard: around a space that lets the light of Christ illumine our lives; a space where we can feel, and benefit from, the movement of the life-giving Spirit; a space defined by repentance and baptism, and by a common meal; a safe space where we can enjoy one another’s company in fellowship. It is certainly a place of goodness and healing, of restoration of health.

This, then, is the ‘ideal model’ of the Church, for Jesus and for Peter. Indeed, many of the earliest churches met in the internal courtyard of the homes of their hosts. This was the main and semi-public room, around a pool where baptisms took place (Paul baptises the household of a Roman army veteran in Philippi, establishing a second church in the city) and a dining table. And when Christians first began to build dedicated places of worship, they built them around an atrium (the Latin name for the internal courtyard). The shape of our buildings has evolved over the centuries, but we still see that form in the cloisters of our own Durham cathedral.

We don’t have an internal courtyard, but the metaphor stands. And, just as we have covered over the interior courtyard of our buildings, so we see patterns of behaviour at play within the Church of God that try to shut out the light of Christ, keep out the wind of the Holy Spirit, detach baptism and communion from discipleship, and lord over an unsafe place where people experience spiritual abuse.

Even as we get work done to replace the physical roof above the south aisle, let us attend to maintaining the metaphorical opening over our heads, that we may be a flourishing community within the courts of the Lord. The measure might be to ask:

Is our worship focused on Jesus, welcoming his light, and responding in repentance and joy?

Is our worship open to the Holy Spirit, the giver and sustainer of life?

Do we prepare people of all ages for baptism and to receive communion—and to live the life that flows from these sacraments—well?

Do we nurture a safe environment where people of various ages, abilities and needs can get to know one another and flourish together?

If the answer to any of these questions is ‘not really,’ how might we attend to that?

And one final thing. Jesus says, ‘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.’  Jesus goes out into the world to bring others back, with him, into his fold. We are called to follow him, where he leads, and to do the things he does. If we have found, in this place, an internal courtyard in the world, who do we know who might also find a welcome here? Whom might we invite to come with us? Whom might we speak to, whom Jesus might speak to through us, who might hear his voice and respond?

Don’t think of the fold as being tight for space, but as a gracious space, a hospitable space, an inviting space. A blessing you would want to let others in on, that they might be blessed too.