March 19, 2023 – Fourth Sunday in Lent

On Friday, I presided over the funeral for a man who had many friends when he was younger, but most of his family and friends had predeceased him. While there were only 11 of us in church, it felt like those who were present were just who needed to be there. Have you ever been at a funeral where there are just so many people that it feels overwhelming? On the other side of the coin, have you ever been at an event where there is no one else there, and you feel utterly alone?

The pandemic has served as a magnifying glass for the loneliness that was so pervasive already in our culture. According to the Surgeon General of the United States, we are suffering a pandemic of loneliness. At least 60% of Americans report feeling alone, and that number rises to 75% when we talk about young people. Loneliness can be more threatening to our lives than cancer – just look at the statistics of suicide among teenagers during the pandemic. In the United Kingdom, the government has appointed a “minister of loneliness” to combat the problem of isolation.

When humans are isolated, every kind of suffering is compounded, for we are cut off from the compassion and help that others can offer. The causes for our loneliness vary – from social anxiety to the burdens we shoulder that keep us locked out from others, from our own mental health to caregiving requirements, demanding schedules, and even our own sickness and disease. Others feel alone in a room of people or alone in their marriage or family or because they worry that people won’t accept them for who they really are.

If you’ve been following our Lenten Resources, you’ll notice that this week’s readings and meditations were all about pity on ourselves. We started with overwhelming days, went to not being able to catch a break, suffering alone, feeling forgotten by God, and feeling utterly overwhelmed. 

On a day where we are reminded to rejoice by the rose vestments, it may seem weird that I began by talking about funerals. I mentioned funerals earlier because today’s appointed psalm is Psalm 23, which is most often read at funerals. Psalm 23 offers a vivid picture of how God comes to be with us as the Good Shepherd who seeks and finds the one who is alone and brings them home. Unfortunately, many of us are not sure what a healthy, comforting household should look like. Even if we can take pictures and make our house look perfect, just like we see in those home improvement magazines, every family has a complicated story.

The Good Shepherd helps us to imagine what being at home in the family of God is like. The household is a safe place for you to be yourself – with all of your fragility and dependence and imperfection. There is a caring person who is in charge of protecting you and the others in the house. But don’t worry – you won’t go unnoticed. The caring shepherd knows every sheep who lives there in perfect detail. You only must hear your name and follow the call to come home. The doors are always open (Jn 10:25-27; Mt 7:7-8). Once there, you will lack for nothing – you “shall not be in want” (Ps 23:1). There will be food to eat and water to drink, and you will rest easy, knowing that the shepherd will guide you “along right pathways for his Name’s sake” (Ps 23:3). But even when you face suffering and evil, you will not walk alone (Jn 14:16). The shepherd will accompany you into the darkest moments of life, and will celebrate with you during the joyful ones. 

You are welcomed into the fold of God, for nothing can separate you (Rm 8:38-39) – not your pain, not your mental anguish, not your disease, not what burdens you, not your doubt, not your fear, not what you’ve done, not what you’ve left undone. Nothing. You – just as you are – are welcomed into this household. Come and feast at the table of God, together.

My friends, REJOICE! For you are covered with love, mercy, and goodness by a Good, Good Shepherd. At home in the family of God. You belong here. Thanks be to God!