Fourth Sunday of Easter

Good morning, fellow sheep! As you’re probably aware, sheep aren’t the brightest animals on the planet. When they’re lose in the pasture, they depend on a shepherd to guide and protect them. As intelligent as we may think we are, nevertheless, we have a lot in common with those sheep. Regardless of how independent and self-determined we may think we are, we can’t imagine ourselves as “sheep without a shepherd” and, at those times, we go around frantically searching until we find one.

There are many hirelings out there – besides the Scribes and Pharisees of Jesus’ time – just waiting for us to follow them. But they have no concern for the sheep. Certainly, none of these hirelings would sacrifice themselves for you. Who are these uncaring “shepherds” who we’ve been tempted to follow? One is a career. Many people follow this one into misery, loneliness, exhaustion, or even death. Another popular one is wealth. A third is fame or status. Yet another is power. The one most frequently pursued is a relationship with someone who promises to “complete” you. Which is the shepherd you’ve followed? Where you invest your time, your money, and your thoughts is your shepherd. You see, we humans have to have a shepherd – a god, if you will – who will give meaning to our existence and, if we don’t have one, we’ll create one.

In talking about the spiritual life, I’m fond of referring to our “ROI” – return on investment. All these shepherds that we humans choose to follow are incredibly demanding. In fact, the longer we pursue them, the more sacrifice they demand. Some choose to give them their all. So, what’s the ROI? Every one of us at one time or another has chased after some of these shepherds. What did we end up with in return? I don’t know about you, but I wound up with empty and unfulfilled promises. These hirelings promise everything, ask everything, and deliver nothing. They rob us of our power and leave us powerless and lost, searching for the next shepherd will lead us to the “promised land.”

In today’s gospel, Jesus presents himself to us as the “good shepherd.” What makes him “good” is his whole-hearted care for his sheep. He doesn’t demand much from them – in fact, he demands nothing. He’ll welcome anyone from any flock at all. He’s an equal opportunity shepherd who not only shares his time and energy and love with his sheep, he shares his very life. With Jesus’s followers, the ROI is turned inside out: he demands nothing and gives everything. Rather than draining our life force, he shares with us his own. No longer wandering aimlessly and powerless, we find ourselves with purpose, direction, and the power to live a life second to none.

The most powerful words in the gospel today are these: “I know mine and mine know me.” Knowing Jesus is an entirely different reality from merely knowing about Jesus. To know the good shepherd requires a spiritual experience.

Do you remember the story of the Samaritan woman at the well? Jesus told her that she’d had five husbands, so she ran back into the town to tell everyone what Jesus had said. The townspeople came running out to see Jesus for themselves. Finally, they said to the woman, “No longer does our faith depend on your story. We have heard for ourselves, and we know that this really is the Savior of the world.”

Truly knowing Jesus the good shepherd is an act of faith springing from a personal spiritual experience. Reading about Jesus in the scriptures and religious books is not enough. Even worshipping Jesus as the risen Christ and Savior is not enough. Our churches are full of sheep without a shepherd. So, what does it take for “I know mine and mine know me” to happen? How do we allow Jesus to become more than just a theory in our lives?

It takes a change of heart – a metanoia. It takes resigning from the spiritual debating society. It takes accepting that we don’t have all the answers. It takes recognizing that we are powerless to control our own lives, let alone the rest of the universe. We don’t have to become powerless, all we need to do is recognize that we already are powerless and that we need a shepherd to protect and guide us. The rest is easy. We surrender to that reality. We say to our restless selves, “I can’t; God can; I think I’ll let him.”

In a moment, we’ll be face-to-face with the mystery of the death and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ. When we recognize him in the breaking of the bread, we no longer need to ask “how” or “why.” We can simply recognize that we are in the presence of the shepherd of our souls, the good shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep – and raises them up again with him. If we know him as he knows us, we are no longer lost, no longer powerless, no longer alone.