4th Sunday of Easter 2023
Acts 2:14, 36-41; 1 Peter 2:20-25; John 10:1-10
On Easter Sunday 2009, I discovered my total incompetence as a shepherd. It was my first Easter in the parish of St. Thomas the Apostle, Claughton-on-Brock, where the church, a magnificent example of a so-called barn church, built in 1794, stands on a narrow country road. Across the road is a field which, on that Easter Sunday, as on the day a little over a week ago when I returned to conduct a funeral, was filled by ewes and their lambs.
As I was speaking to the people outside church after the Easter Sunday morning Mass, I noticed that one of the lambs had gone astray. It was wandering forlornly along the grass verge, whilst its mother, still in the field, was bleating plaintively. As soon as I had shed my vestments, I sprang into action. One of the parishioners took up a position behind the lamb; I in front of it. Between us was also the gap in the fence through which the lamb had made its now regretted escape.
Our theory was that we should slowly close in on the lamb, ushering it back to and through the gap. So much for theories: the lamb immediately dashed between my legs and bolted along the verge, before finding, of its own accord, another gap through which it trotted serenely, and returned to its mother. We didn’t receive as much as a bleat of thanks.
Thus, my one and only attempt at shepherding ended in failure, though with a happy outcome. I can only hope and pray that I have a little more ability at the metaphorical form of shepherding to which I am called. It will not be a good thing if that Easter Sunday experience should prove to represent my priestly life.
Or will it? After all, the affair ended well, though not through my efforts. May that convey a message for the priesthood, and indeed for the Christian life? Our life in Christ is not a matter of achievement, but a call to strive, and to trust. Those results which we achieve through our own efforts may, for a time, look impressive, but they are unlikely to last: as St. Paul points out in his First Letter to the Corinthians, it is God who gives the growth. In our shepherding, whether as priests, as religious, or as lay people, we should perhaps concern ourselves less with apparent success or failure, and more with ensuring that we are following Christ, the one true shepherd.
That does not mean that we should be satisfied with incompetence. The shepherd of today’s parables knows his job, and carries it out to the best of his ability. This involves giving himself entirely to and for his sheep. When Jesus says “I am the gate of the sheepfold”, He is referring to the practice whereby, at night, the shepherd would close the sheepfold by lying down across the entrance. Wild animals would be deterred by their scenting of the shepherd or, if they were particularly aggressive, would be compelled to attack the shepherd if they still wished to reach the sheep.
Notice something else: the sheep “will go freely in and out”, happily jumping over the shepherd’s body because they know him, just as they will follow his voice for the same reason. This raises two questions for us. Firstly, do I know the voice of Christ, in order safely to follow him? If I am to do so, I will have to spend time with Him, listening to His voice, encountering Him in the scriptures, and in the depth of my prayer.
The second question is: do I know the people for whom I have responsibility, whether I have an official role in the Church or not? Pope Francis has spoken of the need for pastors to live with the smell of the sheep. This has become more difficult for priests, who will probably have responsibility for two or three parishes; but we must compensate by ensuring that we are known to be available, that we are not constrained by “office hours”. It also means that lay people must take on more of a pastoral role, playing their part as shepherds within their own communities. Above all, however, we must remember that it is Christ who is the true shepherd: we can play our part only in and through Him.
