The Good Shepherd: Part Four

(This is the final installment in a series of articles about the relationship of a shepherd with his flock.)

23rd Psalm

The story of the good shepherd is a good one – the 23rd Psalm is familiar to all of us.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. In verdant pastures he gives me repose.”

This first line is understood in relation to what sheep need. What do sheep need? Well, that’s simple. Sheep mostly eat, and they start very early. The shepherd leads them out at 3:30 in the morning. They are still groggy and undiscriminating at that time, so he leads them to eat rough herbage. As the day moves on, and their taste develops, he gradually leads them to finer weeds and eventually to the sweet, smooth pasture grass.

Now deep in their ovine hearts, the sheep have a sense that the day gets better as it goes along (cause the food gets better), and they trust that the shepherd will do it again tomorrow!

Humans also need a deep sentiment that life does not go from bad to worse. We need to trust that, after every rugged journey, there is a restful pasture. We need to trust our Good Shepherd.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. In verdant pastures he gives me repose.”

“Beside restful waters he leads me; he refreshes my soul.”

Now sheep are skittish about running water. Even if they are very thirsty, they will not drink from moving water (in other words, a flowing stream) because they are innately fearful of falling in, and with their heavy wool, drowning. A bad shepherd will force them to the stream and force them to drink. A good shepherd will collect rocks and build little dams at the stream to create small pools of still water. It is the same water, in the same place, but now it is safely calm. Even the smallest lamb will not be afraid to drink.

“Beside restful waters he leads me; he refreshes my soul.”

Humans also need to be on the tranquil side of life now and then. We must struggle out of the raging torrent and find shelter in a quiet cove. Sometimes we are so bone-weary that someone else has to construct those havens for us. That someone is our Good Shepherd.

“He guides me in right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk in the valley of death, I fear no evil for you are at my side.”

Did you know that there is really a valley of death for sheep in Israel? It is a narrow pass four miles long between Jerusalem and the Dead Sea. The walls of this pass are 1,500 feet high, the width about 15 feet. Twice a year, the sheep have to pass through this narrow pass on their way to milder climate.

“With your rod and your staff that give me courage.”

Danger lurks along the path. First, there is a ravine that frightens the sheep. The shepherd has to coax them to jump. The sheep cannot be taught to overcome a present fear for a future benefit. Sheep are not that smart. They simply have to be coaxed across.
Humans also have to be coaxed into the future. The promise of love does not automatically create a good marriage. There is no guarantee that the new job will work out. We can never promise our children that everything will be fine if they just make that fearful leap beyond adolescence. Some things cannot be taught or proven; sometimes, we must simply be coaxed, lured, led, prodded into what is best for us. That’s why we need to be shepherded – especially by one who has been there – our Good Shepherd.

Do you understand that “leading us in the paths of righteousness” is a form of protection?

We can be intelligent people, well-educated people, even religious people, yet like a sheep, somehow we may stray from the path of right living just long enough to become ensnared in a destructive relationship, a destructive habit, a destructive lifestyle. One of the most important prayers that many of us can pray is the prayer that Jesus taught us to pray, especially that petition, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” We need a shepherd. This is not to say that we can abdicate responsibility for our lives. It is to say that because we are humans we are flawed.

There comes a point where we need a shepherd to provide for us and to protect us—to keep us on a right path.

“With your rod and your staff that give me courage.”

“You spread the table before me in the sight of my foes.”

Now the most immediate danger for sheep is poisonous grass. Sheep cannot distinguish between healthful and harmful consumption, so they depend on the shepherd to pull out the deadly weeds, leaving a healthy banquet.

“You spread the table before me in the sight of my foes.”

The most insidious evil in our human environment might be harmless pleasure. Children are especially apt to ingest indiscriminately everything the culture offers, and adults may encourage them instead of shepherding them. A European observer noted of us: “You Americans don’t “raise” children – you “incite” them! You give them food, clothes and applause.” If the shepherd frolics with the sheep, everyone gets eaten alive.

“You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”

Now another danger that lurks in this valley that must be traveled comes from jagged rocks. No matter how sure-footed the animals may be, they will suffer some cuts and gashes as they navigate the four-mile narrow passage. The shepherd checks each one of his flock and rubs healing oil in their cuts.

“You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”

No matter how careful we are, we get bruised by life. We are wondrously self-healing in many cases. But, in others cases, there is no cure unless someone holds out their hand. And then some broken things simply cannot be mended, some things cannot be fixed. They simply must be forgiven. That’s where our Good Shepherd comes in.

Is the good shepherd image useful in our day and age? On the immediate level, it may be easy to imagine ourselves as innocent little lambs safe on a laughing shepherd’s shoulders. But our shepherd has to lead us through a wild and wooly world, so sometimes, not always, he has to have a lean, sometimes more serious look.

Christ the Good Shepherd calls us to listen to his voice: To listen consciously, deliberately, wisely for his voice in the midst of the noise and busy-ness of our lives; to listen for his voice in the love and joy, the pain and anguish, the cries for mercy and justice of those around us. In responding to the voice of Christ in acts of generosity, love and forgiveness, we proclaim the good news of hope and grace that is the Easter miracle.

“Only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life; And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for years to come.”

In the book A Psalm of an Old Shepherd, H.W. McLaughlin tells a beautiful story of an experience he had in the land of Palestine. While talking to an elderly sheep herder, he asked the sheep herder how his staff comforted his flock. The man explained that in the daylight he always carried his staff across his shoulders. This reminded the sheep of his presence, for he had guided and directed them with it when they traveled over a rough stretch of ground or had to pass through a narrow ravine. When night overtook them, or if they were caught in a heavy fog so that the animals could no longer see the staff, he would lower it; and as he walked, he would tap on the ground with it. By the sound of the staff, the sheep were once again guided and comforted. It told them that their protecting shepherd was up ahead picking out a safe pathway.

Blood of the Lamb

We have all heard the phrase, “I’ve been washed by the blood of the lamb.” What does that mean?

Lambing time comes around every spring, and it's the hardest time of year. In the morning a shepherd awakes to find that the female sheep has given birth to a lamb . . . and the lamb has died. In another portion of his flock the shepherd finds another sheep that gave birth during the night and the mother died! So, on one hand the shepherd has a childless mother who will probably die of a broken heart. On the other hand, he has an orphan who will probably starve to death without his mother’s milk. All logic tells him to put the orphan with the childless mother. Should work, shouldn't it? It will not work, not at all. The mother knows the child is not hers and the child itself is confused and starving.

The old prophets and the old shepherds, saw in this regular event in their flock a perfect image of our relationship to God. We lambs are so alienated from one another that we are dying from starvation and God, the mother sheep, is dying of a broken heart. (Well, God cannot die, but you get the imagery.) One and only one thing can be done. If the shepherd takes the dead lamb and drains its blood, he can then wash the orphan in the blood of the dead lamb, and the mother, smelling her own, immediately moves so that the orphan may suckle. In other words, the orphan is brought to table and to life by its adoption through the blood. The early Scriptures promised that a Messiah would come and be the lamb by which we were brought to an intimate relationship with God.

Adoption by blood. What a powerful concept. And the people of ancient Palestine understood this concept completely. It is us who are confused. Christ's blood makes possible an intimate relationship with God. Christ's blood is sign and symbol of the union Christ has established between humanity and God. Certainly, if nothing else, the shedding of Christ's precious blood forces us to face the urgency of our relationship with God. It calls us to face our own sinfulness.

Jesus is our Crossing Guard. It is he who makes it possible for us to reach the Father through his total surrender to God and through his shed blood – “adoption by blood.” And we have been washed by the blood of the lamb. We know our God and our God knows us.

(Father Michael Bergeron is a retired priest of the Diocese of Houma-Thibodaux.)