Sermon on the Biblical text: I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep, and my sheep know me. (John 10,14), preached on 18 Feb 2024, Evensong, Trinity Hall Chapel, Cambridge, UK.
Recently, I read a commentary stumbling over that Jesus talks about sheep and shepherds, although he was a craftsman accompanied by predominantly fishermen. Some suggest that we don't know too much about his first 30 years; therefore, he might have some experience with sheep. But I have a suspicion that it's for a different reason. Have you ever tried to discuss a topic with people who are experts on it? You might begin by offering an example to ease into the conversation and eventually make your main point. However, sometimes people will start interrupting you immediately, correcting you with facts and preventing you from getting to your main point. It can be frustrating when this happens. Yeah, I think that's why Jesus talked about sheep to fishermen…
Well, back to our text. Jesus says: I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep, and my sheep know me.
I'll be honest, I know nothing about sheep! My knowledge of shepherds' care of sheep comes solely from the James Herriot's and Terry Pratchett's books. So, I asked my fellow Dominican sister, who grew up on a farm: "Hey, can you tell me something about looking after sheep? What are they like?" She was seriously thinking for a few seconds and then replied: "Yeah, they are totally stupid!" "That's what I feared," I nodded. Not helpful at all. We all know that it's not attractive to think of ourselves as sheep when we try to meditate on gospels and parables. Who wants to reflect on themselves as creatures with limited intellectual capacities, incapable of looking after themselves, and with disastrous geographical orientation? I'll pass, thank you.
Well, it's a gospel, and Jesus surely didn't want to mock our skills and abilities, so there must be something else in this parable. What about the shepherd himself? What is the imagery of the good shepherd in my mind? I see it clearly, a young man with a well-groomed beard, a spotless robe and a sheep on his shoulder By the way, the sheep probably weighs next to nothing because it is comfortably resting on Jesus's shoulders. Jesus is gently smiling, casually adjusting the sheep as if it was rather a luxurious fur collar.
Oh dear! I am not getting anywhere useful or theologically enriching with this image…
Fortunately, here, my fellow sister gave me a new perspective on the whole shepherd's job. When they were kids, her two-year-old baby sister got her first job as a shepherdess on the family farm. Sometimes, lambs are abandoned by their mothers, so the shepherds must step up to give extra motherly care to these sheep orphans. It's usually the youngest members of the shepherd family who come a few times a day to bottle-feed the little creatures. And it was precisely the job of this baby girl - feeding baby sheep.
One day, the two-year-old shepherdess was about to visit her grandma, who lived just under the hill where the sheep stayed. The routine was that the girl's mum phoned Nanna to say that her daughter was leaving home, and in 5 minutes, Nanna was welcoming her on her doorstep. However, that day, the little girl was late. Five minutes passed, then ten minutes, and then fifteen. Eventually, just when the grandma was ready to look for her granddaughter, she showed up in her front yard. But she wasn't alone. A bunch of baby sheep was accompanying her. As the story goes, the girl was passing through the meadow, and the lambs spotted her. Expecting sweet milk, they rushed towards their shepherdess and wouldn't leave, however she tried. Poor little girl couldn't get rid of them. When she attempted to escape through the gate - before she managed to close it behind herself- lambs also sneaked through. So she went back in, the lambs with her. Then she went out, and the lambs were out. And this was going on for a while. All in, all out, all in, all out. Finally, she gave up and brought the sheep orphans with her to have a cuppa with her Nanna. What a joyful and cute procession!
I loved this story; it gave me a different perspective on the good shepherd. But the image still suffers from some inaccuracies. I still visualise the baby surrounded by the lambs in a rather unrealistic way. It's too sweet and kitschy, like the religious prints with playing kids watched by guardian angels that we had as children. I remember the powder colours and gold contours. Oh, I loved them! I was almost obsessed with the appearance of those kids. They were neat and tidy, smiling and gentle to each other. Not my experience of childhood, believe me. I was the youngest of three and had to fight my way up in our street gang. To my mother's disapproval, we rushed around the village all day, climbing trees and making racing carts out of the rubbish we found in the local landfill. My father taught us to shoot from airguns, let us fight with heavy metal swords in our bedrooms, and organised boxing matches between us kids. I don't have a single school photo without scratches and scars all over my legs and arms. Too far from the beautiful, clean children on those religious prints.
Remembering myself as a kid, I start reimagining the mental picture of the baby shepherdess feeding her lambs. Perhaps she wore a pair of mended sweatpants inherited from her older siblings. Muddy Wellingtons that are bigger than she needs because she has to grow into them. Also, it's March, and it's cold and rainy, so she regularly cleans her nose to the sleeve, her face dirty with smudges as the sheep are rubbing over while wrestling for the bottle of milk. Yes, the baby shepherdess is not clean, stylish or neat because it's a tough and dirty job feeding these unpredictable, crazy creatures.
But for them, she is the good shepherdess. She barely manages to feed herself, entirely dependent on her own mummy. But already caring for those little lamb orphans.
Here, I am finally capable of a brand new picture of the good shepherd. I can abandon the romanticised portrayals of Jesus when I encounter the gritty reality of the task. It's not about pristine pastures and perfectly groomed sheep and shepherds; it's about the messy, unpredictable nature of caring for other living beings.
When I hear Jesus likening himself to the good shepherd, I know he wasn't painting a picture of idyllic perfection but acknowledging the challenges and responsibilities inherent in guiding and nurturing others. Just as the baby shepherdess, with her oversized hand-me-down sweatpants and runny nose, took on the role of caretaker for those orphaned lambs, so too are we called to step into roles of leadership and compassion in the midst of our own imperfections and limitations.
Being a good shepherd means getting your hands dirty, facing the unexpected with resilience, and sometimes feeling overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility. It's not about being flawless or always knowing the right thing to do; it's about showing up, caring deeply, and doing our best even when we ourselves need to be cared for by others.
When I think about it now, I wouldn't mind comparing myself to an orphan lamb truthfully and blindly following the good shepherd. Because even though I don't know too much about what is beyond my home pastures, following Jesus might end up having a cuppa with his closest family.