The ongoing sequence of Easter Sundays presents resurrection appearances--but this one gives a glimpse of a much earlier time, a time in Jesus’ earthly ministry, in Jerusalem, at the Feast of the Dedication, doubtless better known to us as Hanukkah. Most of these seven Sundays of Eastertide present the Risen Lord, a powerful demonstration that he is the Christ, he is the Messiah, he is the Savior, and, as Thomas perceived, he is God himself, God Incarnate. Here we see a time, an encounter, when all of that was very much doubted, questioned, and usually in a skeptical, even hostile way. Good Shepherd Sunday each year presents the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd. It is an image that is, rightly, one of the most beloved and treasured images in the Church. It has, sadly, often been sentimentalized. It is a sweet image, granted, but not sugary sweet. It is tender and reassuring and comforting, but not silly. A shepherd in the Holy Land was a rugged, tough, resourceful type, dependable and consistent, who cared deeply, often personally for his sheep in a harsh and uncompromising landscape, with dangers on every side. A decent shepherd took serious risks to protect and care for his sheep. The Good Shepherd said he would even lay down his life for the sheep, which he did. So, an image, a way of picturing our Lord, that is tender and gentle and, well, good, and not really something that should ever have been sentimentalized. Treasured, appreciated, revered but not so domesticated. Now, the image may be sentimentalized if we insist, but the context and content hardly can be, no matter how hard we try! When Jesus is presenting himself in the image of the Good Shepherd, he is all the while saying some very unsentimental, even startling things. He is uncompromising, not mushy, more intent on being clear and direct, than appealing and endearing. The religious authorities want to know, does he claim to be the Christ. He refuses to say. He reminds them that the things he has done, the way he has behaved, and what he has taught, should be answer enough. And if they do not believe on that basis, he says flat out, they will not believe on any basis. And it may well be that it is all because they are not really part of the Kingdom of God, by their own decisions. Now that is not sentimental. We who do believe, who do wish and seek and try to follow, and are not in suspense as to whether he is the Christ, we have an unsentimental suggestion given to us as well. It seems Christ does calmly admit that you either believe or you don't. And that’s it. And if you don’t believe, you have only yourself to blame for that, not his lack of specificity of clarity. He has given us all the proof we need to believe, we cannot forever be demanding more. Also unsentimental, but warm and wonderful and precious is his further declaration that no matter what, we will never be snatched out of his hand, we will never have salvation taken away from us, we will never be cheated or tricked out of redemption by anyone, by force, any circumstance, any accident, any tragedy, any thing whatsoever. The unsentimental aspect of that is that he never misleads us into thinking awful things can never happen to us, he is at pains to remind us over and over that he will suffer and we will to, that we will share, as he does, in life’s sadness and heart-ache as well as its hope and glory. We will face some sort of crucifixion of our own before we join him in a resurrection like his. Beyond all the comfort and kindness that Good Shepherd Sunday presents and so very well, it also quietly, with great honesty, reminds us just how much is up to us. The Good Shepherd will care for us, love us, protect us, lay down his life for us. But he will not convince us by argument, win us over by brilliant speechifying or clever argumentation and divine disputation. That much is clear from his encounter today on that winter’s day in Jerusalem. We believe on the basis of what he has offered, or we do not. He will not charm us into faith, maneuver us into conviction. That is our part. I believe the Faith does hold together intellectually, stands up to finest academic inquiry. Minds far finer than mine feel the faith makes sense, is rational and convincing. But here Jesus is saying that all that is a little beside the point - either you believe or you don't--his works, his life, his example is what convinces, not his titles or descriptions. Works not words. He refuses to tell his antagonists plainly that he is the Christ, declines to end for them their phony suspense. He says: “You have seen the works that I have done, and still you do not believe. Obviously, if I declare it to you, that will make no difference.” Humans, devout people, maybe even you among them, will always have questions, sometimes for some people even doubts, serious doubts, even a time, perhaps, or disbelief. Jesus is saying that is both to be expected and utterly beside the point. No one, and no worries doubts, will snatch us out of his hands, we are safe there. The suspense the Pharisees worried about is never really, fully gone. We always wonder--we do. As humans who care, we worry about others. As humans who fret, we also worry about ourselves, sometimes. All of this is expected, and incidental, says Jesus here in this Gospel, this glimpse into that time before his Resurrection. He is the Christ. He does not need to say that, his works, his life, his love have drawn us into his salvation and established us in belief and trust. And nothing and no one will change that. We are his and are in his shepherd-like keeping forever, no matter what. For me that Hanukkah appearance in the Portico was just as compelling, powerful, and glorious as any of the Resurrection Appearances in upper rooms and on Galilean beaches.