4th Sunday of Easter 2020
Acts 2:14, 36-41; 1 Peter 2:20-25; John 10:1-10
It is generally considered that sheep are daft. “Talking is cheap, people follow like sheep” sang the Tremeloes, turning a Four Seasons’ B side into a massive hit. The stupidity of sheep is legendary.
But is this justified? In both the Lake and Peak districts I have seen sheep trampling over picnickers in order to rummage in open bags where they suspected, usually correctly, that food was concealed. Bad mannered they may be, but stupid? I am not so sure.
Indeed, if Our Lord’s claim about sheep is correct—and He knew far more about them than a townie like me—His claim that “they never follow a stranger but run away from him; they do not recognise the voice of strangers”, then sheep are considerably less stupid than human beings.
Abraham Lincoln may have been correct when he claimed that “you can’t fool all of the people all of the time”, but remember that he prefaced that conclusion with the build up: “You can fool all of the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time...”. How applicable his words may be to the present situation in his own country, I leave you to decide.
To move from politics to the less contentious world of advertising, it is worth mentioning that I grew up behind, and over, my parents’ sweets and tobacco shop. My father used to dread a new bar of chocolate or a new brand of cigarette being advertised on TV, because he could guarantee that, next day, he would be swamped by requests for the novelty in question, from people who had been persuaded by the slick marketing techniques of the advertisers that this was a “must have”; that their lives would be unbearably impoverished without it. As often as not, within a fortnight they would have returned to their old brand, and the newcomer would languish unsold on the shelf.
Not so with sheep, says Jesus. Why not? Because they know their shepherd, and the shepherd knows them. They are not fooled by outsiders, no matter what is on offer. Transfer that assertion to the human context: how well do you and I know Jesus? How well do the people of God in general know Him? Do you and I spend time with Jesus, learning to recognise His voice in our inmost being, in the scriptures, in the sacraments, in the events of our lives? Do the priests among us encourage God’s people to do the same?
Do the people, the sheep of God’s flock, hear the voice of Jesus in our words, recognise His presence in our attitude towards them? These questions are addressed not only to priests, but to all God’s people, because each of you, in your own sphere of influence, has a shepherding role.
To what extent do we know the flock of the Lord? Leaving aside the present problem of social distancing, that question is becoming more problematic for priests because of numbers, and because of changing social patterns. It is no longer feasible to trot around the parish, armed with our census book, expecting doors to be opened to us. Increasingly, though, the question must be asked of the laity: do you know the other members of God’s people, and how many of them meet Christ in you? Do people recognise Christ in us, both priests and laity, sufficiently clearly to discourage them from chasing off after every daft idea, whether religious or anti-religious, which comes along?
Jesus takes the analogy still further. The Palestinian shepherd does not only know His sheep: he loves them enough to sacrifice his life for them. At night, he lies down across the entrance to the pen, so as to form a gate, which will deter wild animals or, at worst, will provide a possible victim for them, so that they may leave the sheep unmolested.
Furthermore, the sheep are so familiar with the shepherd that, like their rummaging brethren with the picnickers, they will hop over his body, wandering in and out, knowing that, even if they stray along devious paths, they will be sure of a welcome on their return. Are our people, our fellow Catholics, our fellow Christians, at ease to that extent with us? Do they know, do we know, that we would make any sacrifice for them?
Sometimes, God’s people, including us, may be considerably dafter than sheep, but can they nonetheless rely on us for love and care, and are they, and we, being constantly drawn to a deeper knowledge of, and a stronger love for, Jesus the Good Shepherd?
