Of course, when I gave this homily for the first time (last evening), it was in our one and only church without a window of the Good Shepherd. Go figure...
St. Helen's Church, Chasm Falls, NY |
Every
year, on the Fourth Sunday of Easter,
the
gospel reading focuses in on the Good Shepherd.
It’s
one of the most popular images of Jesus.
In
fact, three of our four churches
here in the Malone Catholic Parishes
have
stained glass windows of the Good Shepherd.
How
did this get to be such a popular image of Christ?
It’s
kind of surprising, really.
During
Jesus’ lifetime,
shepherds
were not very highly regarded.
They
were considered rough characters—dirty and stinky—
generally
viewed as not very religious
and
not at all trustworthy.
(Many
believed that sheep weren’t the only ones
that
shepherds were fleecing…)
It’s
no wonder Jesus had to specify
that he’s the Good Shepherd!
So
how is it that Christians—both early on and still today—
have
come to treasure this image in particular?
In
those first centuries,
when Christians were still living in hiding
Hermes Kriophoros ("Ram-bearer") 5th century B.C. |
and
the symbols they used to share the faith
had to be secret ones,
the
shepherd was a perfect fit.
You
see, in the predominant Greek religion,
there
were many gods—and Hermes was one of them.
Among
his supposed duties
was
to lead the souls of the dead into the afterlife.
And
so his picture—understandably—
was
painted or carved on many tombs.
Hermes
was often depicted
carrying a ram on his shoulders
because,
according to a Greek myth,
in
order to save a city from the plague,
Hermes
once appeared and circled the city carrying a ram
which
was to be offered in sacrifice.
The
story was reenacted every year
with
the handsomest youth in the city
chosen to do the same:
carrying
a ram around town on its way to sacrifice.
All
that is to say:
the
early Christians could paint and carve pictures
of Jesus the Good Shepherd in their catacombs
of Jesus the Good Shepherd in their catacombs
without
arousing any suspicion at all.
And
so they did—a lot.
Christ, the Good Shepherd 3rd century A.D. |
Many
of them survive to this day.
But
if you look closely, there are some differences.
For
one, the ram is replaced by a sheep,
which
is a simple enough thing to do: just lose the horns.
And
the sheep is often not alone:
other
sheep lie down and graze at the shepherd’s feet;
we’re
dealing with a flock here, not just one.
But
the most important difference
is
in the way the sheep holds its head.
In
the pagan Greek depictions,
the
ram often has its head downcast:
it’s
on its way to sacrifice;
it’s
on Hermes shoulders because its life is almost over.
But
in the Christian depictions,
the
sheep usually has its head held high:
this
sheep has been rescued, has been saved;
it’s
on Jesus’ shoulders because its new life
has
only just begun. (cf. P.-M. Dumont)
It’s
pretty subtle, really,
but
those first Christian images of the Good Shepherd
convey
a rather profound message.
Your
average shepherd’s first concern about his flock
is
what he can get out of it:
providing
wool or milk, being sold for meat or for sacrifice.
If a
shepherd’s protecting his sheep from wolves,
it’s
to protect his investment.
His
care for them is out of selfish interest.
Laying
down one’s life for one’s sheep?
I’d
imagine that was exceptionally rare—
and
not just among hired hands.
St. John Bosco Church, Malone, NY |
But
Jesus’ approach is altogether different.
He’s
a shepherd whose concern for the flock
is completely selfless.
He’s
not trying to get anything whatsoever out of them.
Instead,
he very willingly lays down his life—
rejected and crucified—
for
the sake of his sheep.
He
dies so that his sheep won’t have to.
He
dies—and he rises—that his sheep might live.
As
you can see,
those
early paintings and sculptures
portray
a radical belief:
In Jesus, we have a shepherd
who has become a sheep.
He
is the Lamb of God,
whose sacrifice—once for all—
takes
away the sins of the world.
That’s
a shepherd who’s not only good,
but
might even seem too good to be true.
This
past week I paid a quick visit
to
some friends down in Old Forge, my last assignment.
They
have a four-year-old son (soon to be five)
who
gave me many reasons to smile while there.
Before
I was even out of the car,
he
was out jumping up and down on the porch:
“Fr.
Joe is here! Fr. Joe is here!”
(If
only everybody was so happy to see me!)
Once
inside, he took me by the hand
and
gave me a full and very detailed tour of the whole house—
including
all his favorite toys in the bathtub.
But
my fondest recollection of our day together
is
when we sat down for supper and said grace.
Not
only did this little guy make the sign of the cross
(and
do so very well, by the way),
but
he’s the one who led the table in prayer.
He
thanked God for his food, thanked God for his family,
thanked
God for Fr. Joe’s visit.
When
he went on to thank God for his “Mighty Machines,”
we
wrapped things up with a quick “Amen!”
before
he could go on any further.
I
was so moved—and not simply because I made the list.
Clearly,
at four-years-old, this child is the student:
being
taught and learning all the time—
from
his parents, above all.
But
in that moment, he turned the tables and was teaching us.
The sheep became a shepherd.
He
went from being led, to leading the rest of us—
from
hearing the shepherd’s voice, to speaking with it.
And
so it is that we have a shepherd who
becomes a sheep.
Notre Dame Church, Malone, NY |
And
so it that we who are sheep are to become
shepherds.
That’s
the sort of language we’re somewhat used to
when
a man hears the call to be a priest or a deacon.
My
official designation in the Church is pastor,
the
Latin word for “shepherd.”
It’s
rather obvious, then, why this Fourth Sunday of Easter
has
been designated the World Day of Prayer for Vocations.
But
having a vocation is not limited
to just
a few who are ordained—
as
essential as their ministry may be.
We’re
all called—each in our own way—
to
carry on the work of the Good Shepherd.
Each
and every one of us has the vocation
to
make sure the world sees and understands
this
beloved image of Jesus—
not
so much in painting or sculpture or stained glass,
but
in the flesh and blood of our daily lives.
Our
Shepherd knows us oh-so-well;
we
must always strive to know him
better,
and
to make him better known.
As
Saint John reminds us,
the
only begotten Son of God became man
that
we—by adoption, through Baptism—
might
become the sons and daughters of God.
Indeed,
what love the Father has bestowed on us!
Jesus,
our Passover Lamb, has been sacrificed:
freely
laying down his life as our ransom from sin and death.
The
example he gives is clear:
being
counted among God’s flock
is not
about what we have to gain,
it’s
about what we have to give.
So
let us listen attentively and follow where he leads:
the
Good Shepherd is calling us each by name.
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