Some television ads create phrases that permeate our consciousness and become embedded into our culture. If you can remember the jingle "Ring around the collar," from the old Wisk commercials, you date yourself. Other examples are "You’re soaking in it," "It takes a licking and keeps on ticking," "Have it your way" and one of the most famous advertising slogans "Where’s the beef?"

I enjoy the recent Alltel wireless commercials with Chad and the four nerdy guys; their mannerisms and conversation crack me up. But my all-time favorite wireless commercial had the phrase "Can you hear me now?" At the time of its original airing, we lived in Kenbridge, and at that time, wireless service was not as accessible as it is today. Every month we had unused minutes, because we could not use the cell phones in the house or in most places in town. Because the minutes did not roll over to the next month, I decided to take the phone one night into our yard and find a place where I had service. I walked around with a chair in my hand until I saw towers on the phone. The ideal spot was around the pitcher’s mound for our regular kick-ball games, so I slowly sat on the chair and then called my cousin.

I was enjoying my conversation under the stars, until I forgot my circumstances and turned my head only to end the conversation abruptly. Each time this would happen, I would redial and immediately say, "Can you hear me now?"

Even now when we lose a cell phone call, we will immediately redial and occasionally say, "Can you hear me now?" Yet there are times when parents may use the same phrase, but the word "hear" takes a different connotation. While with a cell phone hearing or not hearing means that voices or noise are not being transmitted through a communication device, occasionally we interchange the word "hear" with the word "comprehend." For most of us, hearing, as in receiving the verbal message, is not the issue; listening is a different story.

We have a variety of voices clamoring to be heard and while there is sound entering our ears in the form of words, we just aren’t listening. The story is told of Franklin Roosevelt, who often endured long receiving lines at the White House. He complained that no one really paid any attention to what was said. One day, during a reception, he decided to try an experiment. To each person who passed down the line and shook his hand, he murmured, "I murdered my grandmother this morning."

The guests responded with phrases like, "Marvelous! Keep up the good work. We are proud of you. God bless you, sir." It was not until the end of the line, while greeting the ambassador from Bolivia, that his words were actually heard. Puzzled, the ambassador leaned over and whispered, "I'm sure she had it coming."

Most of the people in that receiving line weren’t interested in what President Roosevelt had to say. They practiced "selective listening," a trait which unfortunately has gained popularity between spouses, between children and their parents, and also between parents and their children. Sometimes we hear what we want to hear. Perhaps we filter what we hear in hopes of gaining a tailored, specific kind of message. That is the reason that some refuse to watch the nightly news, because although the journalists broadcast what is true, it is predominantly bad news, and some would rather not hear it. Selective listening also prevents some parents from hearing negative reports from teachers, coaches, or other persons in positions of authority. We even can practice selective listening in church life, refusing to hear that something could be wrong with our facility, the ways we operate, or with another aspect of church life.

To prevent selective listening, we have to be open to hearing. I saw a button that read, "If only closed minds came with closed mouths." In our gospel text, the religious elite of the day were closed-minded and certainly practiced selective listening. Over and over, Jesus had performed miracles testifying of his identity. He taught and preached across the countryside and developed quite a following among the common, everyday persons who were being excluded by the religious establishment. John was intentional in noting the context of Jesus’ conversation with the religious leaders. The Temple was located in Jerusalem, making it the nerve-center of Judaism. This feast, one which is called Hanukkah today, was not popular among the governing Romans. This feast was instituted by Judas Maccabeus in 165 B.C. commemorating the cleansing of the Temple after Greek tyrant Antiochus Epiphanes had defiled it by sacrificing a pig on the altar. Two centuries later, the common people still recalled through oral tradition how Judas Maccabeus became a hero. Nationalistic fervor was at frenzy levels among the occupied Jews. The question Jesus was asked, "How long will You keep us in suspense? If You are the Christ, tell us plainly," was loaded with images of a conquering king like David or Judas Maccabeus unseating and thoroughly humiliating Rome.

Why do people ask questions? Some ask to receive an answer; it is a quest of learning, a pursuit of knowledge. At other times, questions become tools for entrapment. The ones posing the questions weren’t seeking to follow Jesus; they were not interested in what he had to say. Instead they wanted to corner him.

The answers to their questions were apparent to everyone who had been associated with Jesus. His actions communicated who he was, just like our actions also send messages. What we do reveals who we are. If we act like a caring, compassionate congregation, a strong message will be sent that we are a caring, compassionate congregation. If we greet guests hospitably, visitors will feel welcome. If we continue to help people who need it, we will get a reputation for being a church who cares about people. What we do reveals who we are.

To the questions regarding his identity as the Messiah, Jesus responded, "I have already told you, yet you have chosen not to believe. My actions speak for themselves. No matter how many times I say it, no matter how many times I show it, you will not get the message. How I have treated those who have not had the luxury of silver spoons and formal education should speak volumes regarding the universal love of God. Can you hear me now? The assistance I have offered to those who desperately needed it, even when it was on the Sabbath, should have communicated that love should be the filter though which our decisions are made. Can you hear me now? The openness which I have extended to the outcasts of society including the diseased, the lepers, the women, the Samaritans, and even the prostitutes should indicate the equality of the Kingdom of God. Can you hear me now? Feeding more than 5,000 people with only five loaves of bread and two fish and still having twelve baskets leftover (John 6) should communicate who I am. Can you hear me now?"

Earlier, Jesus had called himself the Good Shepherd; it is an image which most of us appreciate. Many paintings and stained-glass windows depict Jesus as our Good Shepherd. Once while visiting a person with severe dementia, a friend said, "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." The older person who was suffering with profound memory loss was able to break through the mental haziness and quote with us the remainder of the twenty-third Psalm. We are truly grateful that Jesus is our Good Shepherd.

Shepherds in Jesus’ day were a little different from shepherds today; there were no sheep dogs in first century Palestine. Instead of chasing the sheep from behind, the shepherd led from the front. Sheep followed, because they knew the voice of their shepherd. Jesus said, "My sheep listen to my voice."

To those who questioned Jesus’ identity and stealthily asked if he was the Messiah, Jesus continued, "No, you can hear me neither now nor anytime, because you are not one of my sheep. You have practiced selective listening so long that you have become jaded to what I am trying to communicate. You cannot hear me now because you don’t want to hear me; you’d rather hear the voices of your past saying, "We’ve never done it that way before," and allowing that to be your stackpole rather than running all your decisions through a filter that says, "God is love." You cannot hear me now because your insecurity is all you have to protect your sand castle religion from the waves of progress."

"But while you can’t hear me, my sheep are not only listening, they are hearing my voice, because I am their shepherd. To many I have said, "Follow me," and they have done so. They can hear me now for I am their shepherd. The Pharisee Nicodemus (John 3), the one who came to me at night in hopes that his contemporaries might not see him, asked me a question, "How can a person be born again?" I said, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life." Nicodemus now hears me, because he is one of my sheep, and I am his shepherd. When I asked the Samaritan woman (John 4) at the well to give me a drink, she asked me a question, "Why is it that you as a Jew are asking me as a Samaritan woman for a drink, for Jews and Samaritans mix as well as oil and water?" I offered her living water, and she no longer thirsts; she hears me now, because she is one of my sheep. A group of scribes and Pharisees caught a woman in the act of adultery (John 8), brought her to me in the Temple, threw her at my feet and said, "Our tradition says we are to stone this woman; what do you think we should do?" I said, "Let the one who is without sin throw the first stone," and then to the woman, I said, "Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more." That adulterous woman heard me, because she is one of my sheep, and I am her shepherd. After healing a man who had been born blind (John 9), a group of Pharisees asked him who had healed him. They wanted to know the identity of the healer because his sight had been restored on the Sabbath. They determined that I must be of the devil, but for me, helping someone was more important than maintaining a ritual. The healed man said, "I don’t know if the one named Jesus is a sinner or not; one thing I do know is: once I was blind, but now I can see." This person is now one of my sheep; he can hear me now, because I am his shepherd."

The Pharisees had witnessed numerous examples of Jesus performing the works of their highly-anticipated Messiah, yet they refused to believe. They continued to question Jesus regarding his identity in hopes of tripping him on the finer, legal points of the Law, and he continually found ways to take care of his sheep, because that is what good shepherds do.

How about us? Are we asking questions while ignoring the obvious? Are we trying to protect our turf rather than allowing the flood of God’s love to wash over others? Are we listening for the voice of the shepherd only as we are led into green pastures, beside still waters, in paths of righteousness, and through valleys of the shadow of death? Or do we still listen when the Shepherd says to do the right thing, because he is with us? His rod and his staff will comfort us, even in the presence of our enemies, even when we try to create a place for everyone to dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

As sheep, we have choices; we can become enamored with other enticing, attractive voices which sound good and which provide personal payoffs. We can employ selective listening skills to hear only what we want to hear or what makes us comfortable. Or we can trust that our Good Shepherd knows what is best for us, that he will not lead us astray, that he will help us make the right decisions. What response will you and I make when Jesus says, "Can you hear me now?"