Fourth Sunday of Easter

We are his people, the sheep of his flock.

Shepherds were the truck drivers of the ancient mid-east. They were hard-working, dirty, under-paid, illiterate peasants who made the whole system work. Sheep provided meat, milk, cheese, wool for clothes and blankets, skin for leather and paper. Not much went to waste. But sheep, already domesticated for eight thousand years or more, were helpless in the wilderness. They had lost all their instincts for survival. Shepherds had to protect them against hunger, thirst, predators and thieves.

But shepherds were like truck drivers in that, despite their rough ways, they were admired. Kings and emperors styled themselves as shepherds who cared for their sheep, the common folks. Jewish rulers, especially, recalled David the shepherd-king. The coming messiah would be a good shepherd-king in the mode of David.

So Jesus has been called the Good Shepherd. He never leaves his flock untended except when he dies to save the flock.

In today’s gospel, Jesus says:

My sheep hear my voice;
I know them, and they follow me.

As I understand shepherds of every village usually brought their sheep into town each evening and kept them in a common corral, safe for the night. In the morning they returned and took the sheep back to their pasturage. The sheep sorted themselves out by listening for the voices of the shepherds. Each fellow sang to the sheep, they knew his voice and followed him through the gate and into the wilderness.

(Before the advent of mass production in noisy factories and ubiquitous electronic entertainment, people often sang while they worked. It was a way to ease themselves through back-breaking hardship. Catholics even sang in Church in those halcyon days.)

We learn the voice of Jesus in our public worship and private devotion. He kindly speaks to us with the voice of authority. We hear his voice and follow him, often out of dreadful straits. His voice is music to our ears; we love to hear him speak, especially when he calls us by name.

Many people feel abandoned by God because they do not attend to his voice. They miss both their daily prayers and their Sunday worship. But they hear the relentless voices of others gods demanding their attention and fealty. Eventually, because we human beings are sheep with trusting natures and flocking instincts, they follow these false gods into sloughs of despondency, patches of briars and bears’ dens. The Good Shepherd still calls to them but they can barely hear his voice over the cacophony of this world.

To hear the voice of Jesus we must train the ears of our faith. We pray, associate with prayerful people, read appropriate literature, keep a leery eye on trouble, and listen continually for the voice of the Good Shepherd. We pray that, when that Day comes, we will hear his familiar voice calling us by name. We will come leaping out of the corral of death and into his heavenly pastures.

On this Good Shepherd Sunday, pray for vocations to leadership in the Church, especially for priests and bishops.