It was the third year after the disaster. People had begun to lose hope that things would ever go well for them. The enemy had come in and walked all over their city. Many had died, others had collaborated, hoping to find favour.

Some had never reconciled themselves to the new situation. In particular, the loss of their great and beautiful Temple. It was, after all, the house of their God. Now these foreigners are worshipping their own gods there and offering sacrifices that would never have been allowed before. Revolution was brewing and burst out with a violent attack: the tyrant was overthrown and the city was liberated.

Three years to the day after the disaster, they solemnly purified the Temple. They offered the proper sacrifices, they lit the lamps, and they prayed to the God of heaven and earth that such a thing might never happen again. A festival was commanded to be kept to commemorate the occasion. It is called Hanukkah, ‘dedication’, and it falls on the 25th day of the Jewish month Chislev, roughly the equivalent of our December.

The year was 167 BC; the tyrant was Antiochus Epiphanes; the hero of the resistance was Judas Maccabaeus. Because of his courage and leadership Judas and his family became Kings. Liberating the Temple from the enemy and reconsecrating it was as close as you could get to what David and Solomon had done. So, even although he was no a descendent of David, Judas and his family ruled for 100 years. After that the Romans made Herod the Great king instead – and he married a princess from Judas’ family to show that he intended to continue the line.

So while the Jewish people celebrated Hanukkah, they not only thought about God and liberation. They not only thanked God for having the Temple back again, they also thought about kings, and how they became kings. Into this mix comes Jesus talking about the Good Shepherd, the real shepherd, the king who would come and show all the others up as a bunch of thieves and robbers. Jesus message was very controversial – the chapter ends up with people trying to stone Jesus.

Often we think of Jesus the Good Shepherd and imagine him with lovely flowers in his hair, surrounded by happy children and a few sheep. I remember such pictures from my childhood.

In using this picture Jesus was actually talking about power and rule; God’s kingdom and the world’s kingdoms; about God appointing a true king – Jesus.

I want to tell you a story about a composer and his music. A single manuscript copy was found among his papers when he died. It was clearly a piece for solo violin, but it was extraordinary: difficult, daring, probably unplayable. On it was written: to the City Guild of Violinists.

The Guild was honoured, but embarrassed because none of them could play the piece. Copies were passed out and everyone took one away to practice. There were loads of excuses. Surely the old man couldn’t have meant it to be played – his mind must have been wandering. Anyway, it seemed very strange – not much tune to it although there were some interesting passages. Everyone decided they would try it again one day. Some wondered if the old man had deliberately made it too difficult because it was all too strange and impossible. So they quietly forgot about it.

One day, many years later, an old man with a long beard came to the city. He looked rough and ready but he took lodgings in the city and it wasn’t long until rumours started to circulate about strange and beautiful music being heard after dark.

Finally, some of the guild members gathered to listen and there was no mistaking it – he was playing the music that had been dedicated to them. It was incredibly difficult to play, but not impossible. As he played it, it began to dance and leap, swell and fall. It was wild and strange and headstrong and sweet.

As it died away, some of the city Guild burst into spontaneous applause. But others were furious. “That was our music,” they said. “What right has he to come here and play, he’s not even a member of the Guild?”

The window opened and the man looked out.

“I’m his son’, he said. “HE taught me to play it and he made me a member of the guild before he died. He was its honorary president, you know’. They wouldn’t believe him though and the next morning the man was gone and the music was never heard in the city again.

In the passage today Jesus quotes a verse that has puzzled many people.  It comes from Psalm 82. God is speaking, addressing a group of people, and warning them that, although they claim to have special status, they haven’t lived up to it. They had some music given to them, but they couldn’t play it.

The status, to our surprise given that they believed there was only one God – is that they themselves are ‘gods’:

Pslam 82:6 ‘I said, “You are ‘gods’;
    you are all sons of the Most High.”
7 But you will die like mere mortals;
    you will fall like every other ruler.’

In Jesus time, Jewish scholars reckoned that the Psalm was talking about the Children of Israel at Mount Sinaii. When God gave them the law it was like a master composer leaving a piece of music for the local musicians to play. Had they but known it they were made noble, even divine, simply by receiving it; when they law arrived, mere possession of it exalted Israel to superhuman status. Although they struggled hard to keep the law, they failed miserably. They broke the law again and again. According to Jewish thinking, that was why they went into exile.

But the memory of what might have been remained in Psalm 82. Now someone arrives and begins to do things that cause people to make strange claims about him. It’s as though he’s playing the music for the first time; and they’re horrified because they didn’t know that anyone could do it, and it was simply accepted that nobody ‘could’ do it.

The implication is staggering. The union of humanity and divinity has arrived right there with them – the wild, strange, headstrong and sweet song of incarnation is not an impossible thing. Back at the beginning of the book John reminds us of the significance of Jesus coming into the world.

It is as if the composer knew all along that one day his son would come and play the music – and that if he was to be appreciated, others had to try it and fail. They wouldn’t like it, but that also was part of the plan. Right in the middle of all of it Jesus is there saying to them, “Don’t you see? The father is present in me and I am in the Father.”

Once again, the onlookers are asked to think about the signs – the things Jesus had done, and draw the appropriate conclusion. How could he do these things? Only because he and the father really were bound together in a wonderful unity that shocked and startled them then, and that still shocks and startles people today.

There were some people who looked at the evidence and decided that everything John the Baptist had said about Jesus was coming true – and they believed in him. Next week we’re going to think about the biggest clue so far, raising Lazarus from the dead. The question we face today is whether we are ready to look at Jesus with an open mind or if, like the religious people of his day, we are convinced that nothing said about him could possibly be true. So far, in John’s book, Jesus has called himself: the bread of life – no more hunger; light of the world – no more spiritual darkness; the door – he is the way to God through which we are saved; the Good Shepherd who gives himself for the sheep. If these things are not true the we’re pretty much wasting our time here – but if they are true, it changes everything. What do you think?

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