Jesus says: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them. They follow me. I give them eternal life.” Of course, here Jesus is not really talking about sheep at all. He is talking about us - and our own relationship as Christians with him, the now risen Christ, who is the doorway to our relationship with the living God, for as he says in this passage, “the Father and I are one.” But Jesus is using this relationship between the shepherd and his flock of sheep as a spiritual metaphor. And although many of us here today probably don’t have much experience with sheep and shepherds, it really is a pretty good metaphor for our relationship with the Lord of Love.
In fact, the case can be made that in these four statements in John, chapter 10, we have the whole Gospel in a nutshell. Notice, two of the statements are about Christ and his relationship to us: Jesus says, “I know them.” “I give them eternal life.” And the other two statements are about us and our response: He says, “My sheep hear my voice.” “ They follow me.” Let’s take them in that order and see where that leads us. (following Carl L. Schenck)1
Jesus says, “I know my sheep.” Which means he really and truly does know us. He doesn’t just know of us or know about us. The Greek word, ginosko, clearly suggests that Christ knows us in the deepest sense and at the most intimate levels. Now, to me, in one sense this is comforting, but in another sense it can be a little bit frightening. It is frightening, of course, because of the secrets of our lives. “Almighty God,” we pray at the beginning of every service, “to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid.” We may consider ourselves pretty good at keeping secrets from co-workers, friends, even family; but to think God in Christ knows us inside and out, that there is nothing hidden from his knowing - it can be a little disconcerting. The secret thoughts of our hearts ... the unkind things we often think but rarely say out loud ... the things we do when no one is looking ... the real motives for some of the apparent good deeds we do ... the various ways we cut corners in life ... the things about which we are most deeply ashamed, in all these things we are known completely and thoroughly, inside and out.
But there is much more to this knowing. The shepherd also knows our deepest needs, he knows the pain that is in us, he knows our sorrows and our need for healing. For the most part, when we walk through those doors on Sunday, we walk in looking pretty prosperous and well-put-together, but the people who walk through those doors, the truth is that many of them are hurting.1 I treasure and often quote that line from Mary Cosby, offered to a young man asking for advice as he was about to begin his preaching ministry. She said, remember, every time you stand in that pulpit and look out over the congregation, remember that every person you see is sitting beside their own pool of tears. And if you have come here today carrying some burdens that weigh heavily upon you, if you are bearing some worry, fatigue, sorrow, regret, pain or grief, if you are facing a difficult decision, if there are problems or circumstances in your life that seem overwhelming, please understand that Christ knows. He understands you. And he says, with deep love and infinite compassion, “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” He says, I know you. I love you. And I am with you, even now. Jesus says, “I know my sheep.”
Second, he says, “I give them eternal life.” He gives. This is God’s nature - as revealed in Christ - to give generously, freely and abundantly. The Good News of the Gospel, and the whole meaning of grace, is that eternal life is not a goal to be achieved but rather a gift to be received. It is a gift of divine love. And it is important to understand that, in the Gospel of John, the term “eternal life” certainly does refer to everlasting life with God in our eternal home. But it refers to much more than just the next world; it refers to the quality and wholeness and spiritual abundance that we have in Christ in this world, even now. As the great Anglican theologian, William Temple, put it: “The life of faith does not earn eternal life, it is eternal life. And Christ is its vehicle.” Eternal life means sharing in the very being and presence and love of God. And, in Christ, even now in this life, we do indeed share in the being and presence and love of God. To us who belong to his flock, the gift has already been given and received. And this gift of eternal life, as Jesus says in the gospel, cannot be “snatched away.” “No one will snatch them out of my hand,” he says. For my hand is the Father’s hand. “The Father and I are one.” This is the mystery of Christ - fully divine and fully human. Because he is fully divine, Christ is able to give us eternal life now and hold us securely in his hand forever. And because he is also “one of us,” fully human, we are able to hear his voice and to follow him.
Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice.” You know there is an amazing relationship that develops over time between a shepherd and his sheep. Dan Flanagan recalls as a boy raising sheep as a 4-H project. And he says, “Sheep are extremely loyal. Both my father and I had sheep. But, when we would feed them, only my sheep would respond to my voice, and dad’s sheep would respond to his.” Another fellow (cited by Barbara Brown Taylor) who grew up on a sheep farm in the Midwest said, it never ceased to amaze him, as the teenager who fed his sheep, that he himself could come into the sheepfold and walk right through a sleeping flock without disturbing a single one of them. Whereas, if a stranger took even a single step into the fold, it would cause complete pandemonium. It is a remarkably intimate relationship that develops between a shepherd and his sheep. They really communicate with one another. They develop a language of their own, a language that others are not privy to. For example, “A good shepherd can tell the difference between a bleat of pain and one of pleasure; while the sheep learn that a little click of the tongue means food, or a certain two note song means that it is time to go home....In Palestine, even today, it is still possible to witness a scene that Jesus himself would almost certainly have seen 2000 years ago, that of the Bedouin shepherds bringing their flocks home from the various pastures they have grazed during the day. Often all those different flocks end up at the same watering hole around dusk, so that they get all mixed up together - eight or nine small flocks all mixing and milling together around the water hole. But their shepherds do not worry at all about the mix-up. Because when it is time to go home, each one issues his or her own distinctive call - a special trill or whistle, a particular tune, a little click of the tongue, their own special sound, and that particular shepherd’s sheep immediately withdraw from the mixed up crowd and come together to follow their shepherd home. They know to whom they belong, they know their shepherd’s voice, and it is the only voice they will follow home.”2
If you think about it, each day of our lives, we are confronted by so many different voices, a cacophony of voices, both within and without - voices of fear and anxiety, judgment and criticism, insecurity and self-rejection, voices of greed and materialism, temptation and empty pleasure, cynicism and despair. So many different voices. Amidst all that noise, at the watering hole of life, it can sometimes be a challenge to hear and clearly recognize the voice of our shepherd, the voice of the one who truly loves and cares for us, the voice of the one who will lead us home. Learning to hear, to recognize and trust this voice is so very important. Which, of course, is exactly what we are doing right now and each time we worship: gathering together as a community of faith, gathering around Christ present in our midst and recognizing him in one another. Indeed the practice of listening, recognizing and trusting the voice of Christ is at the heart of all Christian living. In worship and in sacraments we listen for his voice. In scripture and in prayer, we listen for his voice. In sharing deeply our lives together, we listen for his voice. In responding to the needs and sufferings of other human beings placed before us, we listen for his voice. In the circumstances and liturgies of every day life, we listen for that distinctive voice and something deep inside us recognizes, resonates and responds.
I will never forget the first time I really heard and recognized that voice of divine love - and it was not with my ears but in the depths of my heart. It was an awakening of something that felt completely new, and yet, at the same time, deeply, deeply familiar. A sense that this is what I was made for, and the One by whom I was made. In the words of Annie Dillard, “I had been my whole life a bell, and never knew it until that moment I was lifted and struck.” There is a place deep within every one of us that has this capacity to hear, recognize, resonate and respond to the voice of the shepherd of our soul, the one who truly knows us, the one who made us, the one who truly loves us and will never abandon us, the one who guides us home.
“My sheep hear my voice,” says Jesus. “And they follow me.” Now, according to conventional wisdom, sheep are regarded as relatively dumb animals. But according to that fellow who grew up on the sheep farm in the Midwest, sheep are not really dumb at all. “In fact,” he says, “that is an ugly rumor that was probably spread by cattle ranchers and cowboys, and all because sheep do not behave like cattle. You see, cows are herded from the rear, by hooting cowboys with cracking whips, but that doesn’t work with sheep at all. Stand behind them making loud noises and all they will do is panic and run around behind you, because they need to be led. You push cows, but you lead sheep; and they will not go anywhere that someone else does not go first - namely the shepherd - who goes before them to show them that everything is alright.”2
And this is what Christ does for us in the human journey of life - he goes before us. He leads us. Even in those forsaken places of fear, suffering, darkness and mortality, he is there, he goes before us; even in the driest desert where there seems to be no water at all, he leads us to springs of living water; yea, even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, he has gone there before us, with a love and a life that is stronger than death; therefore we shall fear no evil, for he is with us, his rod and his staff, they comfort us, for he is our shepherd who goes before us to show us that all is well. And so we follow him.
Jesus says: I know my sheep. I give them eternal life. My sheep hear my voice. And they follow me. And you know, if we get the sequence right, this is pretty much the whole Gospel in a nutshell. If we get the sequence wrong, it isn’t such good news - it is kind of bad news. And too often, I get it wrong. I think if I follow, if I do all the right things and jump through all the right hoops, then Christ will know and understand and love and bless me, but that’s not the way God’s grace works. The Good News of the Gospel is that we are known and understood and loved and blessed already even before we lift a finger or put one foot in front of the other to follow. The Good News of the Gospel is that it is Christ’s call and claim, love and blessing that allow us and empower us to follow. This is the mystery of the Gospel. It sometimes doesn’t make much sense at the level of the mind, but it does make perfect sense at the level of the heart. Thanks be to God!1
Let us pray: O God, whose Son Jesus is the good shepherd of your people: Grant that when we hear his voice we may know him who already knows us and calls us each by name, and follow where he leads. Amen.
1. This ordering and sections noted are adapted from Carl L. Schenck, “Clapping for Four Verbs.”
2. Barbara Brown Taylor, “The Voice of the Shepherd.”