Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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There are still shepherds in Israel. I saw some in a field near Bethlehem, no less, but it was not at night, and no angels appeared. The oldest Christian statue we have depicts a man with a sheep draped over his shoulders. It is Jesus, the Good Shepherd. Using shepherds to illustrate how God loves and cares for his people goes back a long way -- long before Jesus, in fact. Ezekiel has God say, "I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep….I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed…." And we are all familiar with Isaiah's beautiful picture: "He shall feed his flock like a shepherd, and carry the young lambs in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young." And I don't think I've ever prepared for a funeral where, when I asked the family if they had a favorite Bible passage they would like me to read, someone has not said, "Read the one about the shepherd." We think of the Twenty-third Psalm at such times, because it mentions "the valley of the shadow of death," but for larger reasons, too. It assures us of God's gentleness and his compassion, which is what we need to hear in times of loss. All through the Old Testament and the New are references to sheep and shepherds.

But Jesus, in today's passage, puts a new spin on that old picture. He really ups the ante. For he says not merely that a good shepherd loves and cares for his sheep (which is the meaning of all those other passages). He adds that "the good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep." That makes it a high-stakes game. The hireling, he says, will run away and hide when the wolf comes, but the owner of the sheep will protect them with his own life.

I have learned, whenever I receive bad service, to ask for the owner. Not for the manager, for (in the last analysis) he is also a hired hand, but for the one who has something to lose, the one who realizes that the customer is his bread and butter. It is surprising how the quality of the response improves when it comes from an owner, from one who has something invested in the business. Only the owner cares, really cares. The Good Shepherd has an investment in the flock. He will die for his sheep. Nobody else will.

This is the way Lloyds of London works: wealthy individuals, called "names," put up their money (down to the last penny, by the way) to cover insurance claims that may develop. A number of these names join together in what is called a "syndicate," and the syndicate hires "underwriters." Underwriters are, supposedly, the brains of the operation. They are smart people who are supposed to know which risks to take a piece of, and how big a piece, and which to avoid altogether. And, of course, depending on the decisions of these underwriters, the investors either prosper or perish. There is an interesting rule at Lloyds: if you are an underwriter, you must have a significant amount of your own money invested in your syndicate. The idea being that you won't take risks with other people's money that you wouldn't take with your own. "Underwriters are not just hirelings." They are owners. They are personally invested in the outcome.

Jesus says, in the passage we read this morning, that there are three differences between him, the Good Shepherd, and all the others (the hirelings) who would claim our allegiance. First, the Good Shepherd sets himself between us and peril, fights for us to the end, and allows evil to reach us only over his dead body. (Which devotion Jesus then went out and demonstrated for us.) "Greater love hath no man than this…" Being a sheep in the flock of such a Shepherd, sets up a way of life, a life without worry, and a life of faith and trust. Someone said, in regard to this passage, "It's the shepherd's job to take care of the wolf. It's the sheep's job to stay close to the shepherd." We need to remember that sheep do not herd naturally. If left to their own devices, sheep will nibble off into the sunset, following this tuft of grass and then that until they are lost. You know the old prayer: "All we like sheep have gone astray, we have followed the devices and desires of our own hearts…" So we need a Good Shepherd who will keep us close to him. With a shepherd this good, the only way the wolf can get us is if we wander away. And, of course, we do that from time to time. We neglect even the forms of our faith, not to mention the spiritual truths they represent. We don't pray regularly, don't read and study the Bible, don't worship God as we should. These things in and of themselves don't make us Christians, but Christians do these things. Because the wolf is out there, and we need to stay near the shepherd.

The second way the Good Shepherd differs from the hired hands, Jesus says, is that the Good Shepherd knows each sheep in his flock well. "I know my own, and my own know me," he says. And then (listen to this!): "…as the Father knows me and I know the Father." Wow! The relationship between Jesus and us, if we are in his flock, is the same intimate relationship that exists between Jesus and God. Nothing could be closer than that. How wonderful to be known like that! How scary too! We live in a world that makes us anonymous. Very few people know us as we really are, and very few care. But God, Jesus said, has counted the hairs on our heads. And we are precious to him. Not as a group, but individually. What is wonderful about a mother (on Mothers' Day) is that she knows us and loves us intimately and individually. She remembers our birthday, knows what we like to eat, knows what scares us, embarrasses us, or makes us proud. What kind of a mother would it be who would refer to her child as "what's his name?" Or who couldn't remember when we were born? If we had a good mother, we are fortunate, because such love is not found elsewhere in this world.

A man goes to a news stand and asks for a paper. "Would you like yesterday's paper or today's," the clerk asks. "Today's paper, please." "Well, then, you'll have to come back tomorrow." That's a parable about the crazy world we live in, where there are no todays, only yesterdays and tomorrows. Only regrets and fears. But, we ask, who am I (not "who was I," or "who will I be") -- who am I right now? How can I leave the past behind, and not be bound by it? How can I face the future unafraid? How can I see myself true, right now, as I must be seen in the eyes of God? The Good Shepherd knows his sheep, as they are, right now, knows everything about them -- and loves them, as they are, right now. Even when nobody knows your name, even when you don't know yourself, God knows you. Not as a statistic. Not as a name on a page. But as you.

I used to counsel Maryland State Troopers and their wives. Once one of the wives complained that her husband actually referred to her in conversation as "a twenty-eight year old, white, female subject." She offered that as proof that he thought of her as a thing. That's the way the world knows us: by our categories, by what slots we fit, or are supposed to fit in. But that's not the way the Good Shepherd knows us. Or then there is the nurse who refers to "the gall bladder in room 322." That's the way the world knows us. It's not the way we are known by God.

So the Good Shepherd is different from the rest because, first, he lays down his life for his sheep, and, second, he knows his sheep as individuals, and, third, the Good Shepherd is different because he doesn't care just for his own sheep (as a hireling would), but his heart goes out to all sheep who need him. "And I have other sheep," Jesus said, "not of this fold; I must bring them also, and they will heed my voice. So there shall be one flock, one shepherd." This, of course, was Jesus' way of preparing the Jews for the Gentiles who would become part of his church. But it is more than that: it says that Christ's deepest desire is to have all men and women in his flock, so that all will experience his love and care and reap the benefits of it. We are surrounded by people who are not in the Good Shepherd's flock. Their lives are characterized by fear and insecurity, by not feeling good about themselves, which often leads them to self-destructive behaviors or makes them dangerous to others They're trying to feel good and safe and worthy (but that comes only from closeness to the Good Shepherd). They are looking in a thousand other places: in drugs and alcohol in the abuse of those they love, in gambling and other addictions to work, to the almighty dollar, to power, and prestige, and to all those other things that promise to be good shepherds, and take care of us, but are really only hired hands. They run away when the wolf comes. They fail us every time when the chips are down. The little girl said it right. Her parents heard her reciting the Twenty-third psalm, one night, and she began, "The Lord is my shepherd, that's all I want." When we accept Jesus as our Good Shepherd, (with all the implications that contains, about him and for us) it's all we want or need.