A certain former President of the United States, when asked by a reporter to provide details of his reputedly wild youth, gave this response: “When I was young and foolish, I was young and foolish.” No matter your feelings for the man, I would think that many of us can relate to that sentiment. I certainly can. I will spare everyone the banal details of my youthful indiscretions, (Isn’t it funny how sin always seems so exciting at the time, but in hindsight is revealed to be so ordinary? The pursuit of virtue, on the other hand, is a life of ongoing challenge and adventure.) and will instead focus on one of the spiritual turning points in my life – the point when I came to understand that I am a sheep in desperate need of a Good Shepherd.
My operating principle from about the age of 15 or 16 up until my late 20’s was that I was self-sufficient. Of course, I was financially dependent upon my parents for much of that time, but to me that was a minor detail. In all of the important ways (important by my reckoning, that is), I figured that I was smart enough to call my own shots. I considered my parents’ values and the Church’s teachings to be suggestions to be taken under advisement, but certainly not hard and fast rules that ought not to be disobeyed. That would call for a submissiveness and obedience (two words that made me shudder) that were not befitting an intelligent young gal like myself. And so began the young and foolish years. I thought I was so smart then, and it makes me uncomfortable to even think about that time now. I came to realize, however, that I had much to learn.
Surprisingly, one of the most important things that I needed to learn was the true nature of sheep. My husband, who raised sheep with his brother on their family farm for extra income in high school, was the one who taught me the most about it. And what I learned from him about the behavior of sheep who are left to their own devices is uncomfortably close to my own behavior at this time in my life. According to my husband, sheep are primarily concerned with filling their bellies, and so will graze and graze and graze without paying any attention to what’s around them. They keep their heads down and single-mindedly pursue sensual gratification and will, if not kept in a safe enclosure or closely watched by their keeper, wander into all sorts of dangerous situations. They’ll get lost in the woods, they’ll stray from the fold, they’ll come into contact with other animals that do not have their best interests in mind. Worst of all, they’ll be in deep trouble before they realize it and, by that time, won’t be able to save themselves. And so the need for a shepherd.
The analogy, though imperfect, applies pretty well to me. Especially the part about pursuing gratification of the senses without regard to danger. And the stupidity.
Here’s where the analogy fails, though. My husband and his brother didn’t love their sheep. They raised them for one purpose – income – and understood their value in direct proportion to how many lambs they could provide or what price they’d bring when it came time to slaughter them. My Shepherd, I have come to realize slowly (as is proper to a rather stupid animal), does love me. And He loves me in an utterly gratuitous way. Strictly speaking, I can be of no value to Him at all on my own. I have nothing to offer Him except what He has given me Himself. But when He gives me His superabundant love, I am then able (but again, only with His help, which is called grace) to give it back to Him.
Here’s another thing about the Good Shepherd that sets him apart from a human shepherd - the Good Shepherd calls His sheep by name. My husband assures me that he never named his sheep, though he did refer to the least cooperative of the flock in unflattering terms at times. To call something or someone by name establishes a relationship between the two parties, and my husband and his brother were not in the sheep-raising business in order to form lasting relationships with their flock. When the Good Shepherd calls His sheep by name, He shows them that He does want a lasting relationship – or, more to the point, an everlasting relationship – with them. He shows the sheep that He knows them, that He is concerned for them - each in a particular way - and that in some mysterious way He wants them to know Him too. It makes no sense to our small minds, and yet we have it on good authority that it’s true, so we are called to accept in humility that our Shepherd really loves us in this way. And, as we grow to accept it, we are moved to gratitude for the gift of that love.
But the least reasonable and most incredible way that the Good Shepherd distinguishes Himself from a human shepherd is that He is not content to simply watch over His sheep and keep them out of danger. This Shepherd loves His sheep so much that He became one of them. He lowered Himself to become a spotless Lamb. And not only that, He allowed himself to be sacrificed for their sake. His identification with His flock is so complete, so total, that He has taken on their nature for eternity. And through this condescension, He teaches the flock how to make themselves a fitting sacrifice for the Father. By lowering Himself, He has made it possible for His sheep to be raised to the unimaginable heights of union with their Creator. Clearly, this is no ordinary shepherd.
Now that I am older, I am happy to know that I am a sheep. I am happy to know that my comfort-seeking and stupidity will not be the death of me as long as I stay close to the Good Shepherd, who is the Lamb of God. I am happy to understand the need to listen for His voice and to trust that when He tells me, “No,” it’s for my own safety. I am happy to recognize that He speaks to me through human shepherds, the Pope and the bishops in union with him, and to be docile to their teachings. And I am happy now to admit that it is through my submissiveness and obedience, in imitation of His submissiveness and obedience, that I will be led into the safety of the sheepfold. Far from being dirty words, I now see that “submission” and “obedience” are in fact among those words of eternal life that, as Peter knew, come only from the Good Shepherd. As the hymn goes, “The King of love my Shepherd is.” Thank you, Good Shepherd, for placing me on Your shoulders and bringing me home.
