A shepherd once told me that sheep are completely helpless if they are unsheared, especially if they get turned on their back. Maybe you and I remember our childhood when we turned various insects on their back to watch them struggle and never achieve their proper legside down position—without help.
Another thing about sheep is their loyalty. It does shade into stupidity, the way they follow the shepherd without question. But there is something deeply symbolic of love if the shepherd is kind and careful with them.
History tells us that all the sheep were kept together in a big sheepfold where the various shepherds had brought their small herds down to Jerusalem. Without brands, without markings of any kind, how, you might ask, does each shepherd get back the sheep that belong to him or to his boss?
Well, first, the shepherd calls each of his flock by name. He has been with them on the hillsides so that he knows just who each sheep is. The one with the nick in its ear, the one with the pretty face, the one that limps. There is a name for each one because they are not just a herd; each has a personality that is special, just like human beings.
And second, the sheep each recognize not only the name he calls them by, but the actual voice of the shepherd. It is a much loved sound to them. The one who flipped them back on their feet when he found them upside down. The one who protected them from wolves. The one who took them to fresh pastures when they had eaten the fields down to nubs. A stranger’s voice could not have the gentle resonance of their own master and friend.
Alright, so why does Jesus use sheep imagery on the upcoming fourth Sunday of Easter? I suppose it is obvious but, if you will pardon the comparison, you and I are a lot like sheep. The shepherd calls us each by name—the utter God of the universe does this (of the galaxy, infinity, etc.). God is great enough that in Jesus he knows each and every one of us better than we know ourselves. The name he uses for each of us reaches way down into the full potential of our souls, calling us to be most truly who we are in ourself and in the Lord. An intimate recognition within each of us responds.
And, like the sheep, each of us knows by heart the sound of God’s voice. Alright, we may misunderstand it, ignore it, resist it, slam all our gateways shut to it, but in our moments of sane and solitary wholeness our spirits know the sound of that voice. It resonates within us.
Whichever ones of us are free hearken and follow. The call is safe, in spite of wolves and wildness all around. The call lets our fear drop away, turns us right side up so that we can go follow our master and friend over rocks and even through dark valleys.
Often people insult the human race by calling it a bunch of sheep. But this Sunday it is the greatest compliment we could get.
