Fourth Sunday of Easter
May 11, 2025
John 10:22-30

“At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon” (John 10:22-23). What’s the festival of the Dedication? What’s the big deal about the temple, what’s a portico, and why was it named after Solomon? All perfectly legitimately questions. And truly, they are really important to understanding this whole passage. 

So I was trying to think of how to describe this setting – think of this way – it was Mother’s Day, and Jesus and his pals were having brunch at the Galvez. 

You get what I mean, right? I don’t have to describe Mother’s Day to you, you already get it. I don’t have to tell you what all is involved with brunch at the Galvez – you get it. Just as the Bible doesn’t have to describe that festival for people who already understood what was going on. So, allow me to elaborate.

First of all, the temple. The temple in Jerusalem was the heart of ancient Judaism. The portico of Solomon was a big, giant porch along one side of the temple, open to the public. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of the temple in ancient Judaism. It’s where the people worshiped, it’s where they gathered for big holidays. It’s the sign, the symbol, the very center of their nationality. When you drive down the Seawall here, you see the Galvez. This giant, pink edifice that dominates the beach. When you went to ancient Jerusalem, there you would see the temple – on the highest point in the city, glimmering in the sun, towering above everything else. 

But, this temple, this temple that Jesus knew, was the second temple. The first temple was one of the wonders of the ancient world. It had been built during the time of King Solomon – as in the portico of Solomon. But that first temple had been destroyed by the Babylonians five hundred years before Jesus. This was devastating to the Jews. It was like having the heart ripped out of the community. 

But somehow, the Jews were given new hope. After being exiled in Babylon, they come back to Jerusalem. And they rebuild the temple. Amazing, right? 

But no. Because four hundred years after that, that second temple was desecrated by the ancient Greeks. The ancient Greeks did unconscionable things in the temple. They sacrificed to the pagan gods. They lit fires in the temple. Ugh. Like having your heart ripped out again. Now, we have a story about this, in the book of the Maccabees. It goes like this. 

A band of Jewish soldiers have won a battle against the ancient Greeks. And those Jewish soldiers go into Jerusalem. Those Jewish soldiers see the sanctuary desolate, the altar profaned, the gates burned. Bushes are growing up through the cracks in the in the stones. And the Jews tore their clothes and lamented and wept. The very soul of their people, their nation, is in ruins. 

But they decided to rebuild, to restore, to rededicate. They cleaned the temple, they raised a new altar, they made fresh vestments, they offered incense and sacrifices. The book of the Maccabees says, “there was very great joy among the people, and the disgrace brought by the Gentiles was removed” (1 Maccabees 4:58). That cleansing, that restoration took place in the year 164 B.C. And from then on, the Jews celebrated the anniversary of that cleansing at something called, “the festival of the Dedication.” What we now call Hanukkah. That is a celebration all about rededicating the temple to the One, True, Holy God after a time of devastation. 

Back to our gospel lesson. “At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon.” You can imagine then, this is a big deal. Like Mothers’ Day at the Galvez, everyone was there. It was packed. And everyone there would have felt that history in their bones. There were layers of emotion, of pathos, of spirituality, of history, of hope and horror, all swirling around. For centuries, for nearly a millennium, the Jewish people gathered in Jerusalem. They had built and rebuilt and rebuilt again. They came from far and wide, year by year, to that temple, to worship. To praise. They came to that place. This place meant the world to them.

And so Jesus is walking the very ground that had been destroyed, remade, desecrated, rededicated. And what Jesus says is like an electroshock to the whole system. “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27). It doesn’t seem like much, but it’s everything. 

See, instead of going to the temple for prayer; instead of going to Jerusalem as part of being Jewish; Jesus is calling them to follow him. He, in himself, is the new temple. He is the place of worship, he is the object of praise. It is no longer the stones and the altars and the porticoes that matter, it is Jesus himself. It’s not about going to the temple anymore, it’s about following him. 

Jesus is saying that true worship is in spirit and in truth (John 4:23). Jesus is saying that worship of God and gathering with other believers will not require anyone to go to Jerusalem. They can gather wherever the spirit of Jesus draws them together, wherever the sheep hear his voice. Instead of coming to Jerusalem to know God, they will follow Jesus wherever he calls them to go.

I know, we hear this good shepherd stuff and we love it. We read Psalm 23, we sing all these great shepherd hymns. We hear this story and we love the good shepherd stuff. We think of cute, fuzzy little lambs. 

But this stuff is subversive. It’s upending the whole culture and religion of the time. Jesus is saying that this building will not give meaning to your lives, but following him will mean everything. So this comes across as betrayal, like Jesus is betraying his own people. Again, put yourself in their shoes, in the shoes of the people who loved that place. Think of how distressing this would have been to the people who put their everything onto that building. Little wonder than the crowd turns on him, and that he is crucified. Because in a way, Jesus is saying that the heart and soul of their community isn’t what they think it is. It’s not the temple, it’s not the porticoes, it’s not that building, even though they were all there that day to celebrate the Festival of its Dedication. 

But of course, it’s a call to dedicate ourselves to the Lord God. Jesus was not so concerned about the Festival of the Dedication as he was about his followers dedicating themselves to him. 

As we gather on this Mother’s Day, as we gather on this Good Shepherd Sunday, the message is all the same. Dedication. Today we mark and celebrate a mother’s dedication to her children, maybe with some flowers and brunch at the Galvez. This day is dedicated to mothers and to those who have been as mothers to us. We mark their dedication. But more than that, we gather to rededicate ourselves to the Lord God. To hear this voice, to follow. 

But there’s something else. Because, come to think of it, we are like that ancient Jewish temple. Over the course of a lifetime we’ve been built, broken down, raised up again, hurt and traumatized again, restored yet again. Life is a continuous cycle of building up and breaking down. Thanks be to God that our Lord is like the mother hen, gathering her brood under her wings (Luke 13:34). Thanks be to God that our lives are built on a firm foundation, built even firmer than that temple, built firmer than this temple; our lives are built upon the one who is dedicated to us. 

That’s the good news, that’s the grace of the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd is the one who lays down his life for us, the Good Shepherd is the one who calls to us, leads us through all the upheavals and blessings of life. Through his ministry, his life, his crucifixion, Jesus showed the lengths to which he is willing to go for the sake of the flock, for your sake. Today is the Festival of the Dedication alright. The Festival of our Lord’s dedication to you.