Gates and Latches

A sermon preached via Facebook Live Stream

Easter IV - May 3, 2020

When I was a child, my family lived in an apartment above my grandparent’s home. The house was surrounded by a large yard that was surrounded by a wooded fence. At the entrance to the yard, was a metal gate with a metal latch. One had to lift the latch to open the gate. 

As the gate closed, gravity would pull on the latch down and it would fall with a loud clang and secure the yard from unintended or unwanted intrusion by a wandering person or animal. 

My grandmother knew, just by the sound of the “clang” of the latch, just who was coming into the yard. She would hear the clang and, not even looking up from her task, would say, “That’s your Uncle Edmond. He’ll want some coffee. Get a mug out for him.” 

Or, she’d say, “That’s your Aunt Linda. I’d better lower the heat on these vegetables. She’ll say she’s only got a few minutes and two hours later she’ll finally leave.”

She even knew the sound of the two men she called “hobos”. They were not “tramps” or “bums”. They were migrant workers, many of them immigrants who would offer their services in exchange for a meal.   

Some people gave them money, but not my grandmother. She’d shake her head and say, “They’ll only spend it on whiskey.” 

In exchange for an hour or so of work, weeding her flowerbed or mowing the lawn, picking the ripe fruit off one of her fruit trees, or moving a wheel barrel of dirt around for her, or cleaning out the garage, she’d give them each a bowl of hot soup and a large chunk of homemade bread. 

Sometimes, she’d also send them off with a sandwich and a piece of pie ("for later") and a saying from scripture. Sometimes, she'd give them my grandfather's old shirts or pants that she had cleaned and mended. She knew great long passages from scripture but the psalms were her favorite. 

She often greeted people with a line from Psalm 118 (v 24) “This is the day the Lord hath made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Or, 

Psalm 121 “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.” 

The 23^rd Psalm was her favorite. She would often quote the entire psalm from memory. The King James Version. Of course.

But, she knew by the sound of the latch on the gate that it was “the hobos” and head straight for the back door where she knew that they knew to knock. 

As a young child, I hated that latch. It was heavy and I had a hard time lifting it. I remember this one time my mother had sent me on my bike to pick up a few things at the market. I loved going to the store because as a reward, I got to keep the change. 

Well, I rarely kept it. Often, there was enough money left over to buy a whole candy bar. Baby Ruth was my favorite, second only to Mr. Goodbar. 

I remember reciting the last line of the 23^rd Psalm as I finished the last morsel of my candy bar reward: "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

But, this one time, danger was lurking. 

Mr. Avila lived at the end of the block. His house was right on the corner of Jefferson and Renaud Street, where I lived. He had a dog named Rex, a German Shepherd, who was always chained to a stake in the side yard. 

He started barking at me as I made the turn from Jefferson and up the hill to Renaud, his heavy chain scraping along the grass and the concrete as he followed me on my bike for the length of his yard. 

This was nothing new. He did it every time. To every kid on a bike.

This time, however, the chain broke off the stake, and Rex was suddenly hot on my trail, his heavy chain dragging along the street pavement. 

I always had a difficult time peddling up that hill but as I looked back and saw Rex’s mouth and teeth lathered with foam and froth, I got a burst of adrenalin and made it to the crest of the hill without even breaking a sweat. 

Thankfully, the chain slowed him down a bit, too. 

Perhaps it was the combination of the adrenalin, the chain and a bit of a sugar high from the Baby Ruth, but I was able to make it to the gate, drop my bike and the groceries, lift the latch, squeeze through the gate and latch it before Rex charged the gate. 

I can still see his teeth and the pink of his tongue as he growled and bit the gate. 

My grandmother appeared from out of nowhere with her broom held high over her head, running like an ancient princess warrior to charge the barbarians at the gate. She was shooing him away just as Mr. Avila came running up the hill, cursing and yelling at Rex, who immediately cowered and whimpered. 

Mr. Avila untangled Rex’s chain from my bike, apologized profusely to my grandmother (but not me) and led Rex back to his house, muttering and cursing at the dog the whole way back down the hill. 

It wasn't until years later, when I looked back on that scene of Rex cowering and whimpreing as Mr. Avila muttered and cursed that I understood a bit better and felt compassion for poor Rex. 

My grandmother brought me in the house, washed off my scraped knees and elbows, and painted them with the wonder drug of my youth, Mercurochrome (well, besides Vicks’ Vapor Rub and Robitussin). 

Then, she sat me down and read me this passage from John’s gospel (John 10:1-10), about Jesus being the gate. She said, “Jesus is the gate. Open the gate and come into his pasture and He will always protect and defend you.” 

I was glad for the gate - very glad for the gate, in fact - but as often as I had cursed the latch, I was never more grateful for it. Because of that latch, the gate was able to protect me from Rex and his teeth. 

The weight of the latch suddenly made sense to me and I praised God for inventing gravity and giving human minds the capacity to have it work in our favor. 

“I am the gate” is one of seven “I am” statements Jesus makes in John’s Gospel. Jesus says “I am the way, the truth, and the light." ( (John 14:6). "I am the resurrection and the life." ( I am the Light of the World.  (John 11:25). "I am the Good Shepherd."(John 10:11) "I am the Bread of Life."(John 6:35) "I am the True Vine.”  (John 15:1).

Later in John's Gospel, he simply says, "I am." (Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I am.” John 8:58)

I don’t know how any of these metaphors – these “figures of speech” – work for you, or how this particular one of “I am the gate” translates in your mind.  But, when I think of Jesus as the gate, I think of my grandmother’s house and the fence that surrounded the yard. I think of that metal gate and that heavy metal latch. 

And I remember the time I was chased by Rex, the German Shepherd, and how the gate protected me from his attack but first, I had to lift the latch. And, I am filled with gratitude for both gates and latches. 

Amen.