On Good Shepherds and Good Mothers

The Parable of the Good Shepherd has long been one of my favorite Bible passages because it presents a picture of Jesus that I think gets lost or cast aside in today’s world of sentimentality. We often hear people refer to the mythical “warm, fuzzy, Jesus.” You know, the guy who walks around petting lambs and giving license to sinners, telling them, “it’s cool man, keep on sinning, no big deal;” he wears cool Birkenstocks and flips peace signs like he was the fifth member of the Beatles. 

We laugh; but it’s not funny because there are a lot of people out there who really believe this stuff. They mistake Grace with license; Jesus is ever-ready to forgive all of us, to extend Grace to all of us, but he is not offering cheap grace. Dietrich Bonhoeffer referred to cheap grace in his classic book The Cost of Discipleship and what he meant by that was the preaching of blanket forgiveness with no discernible repentance. 

Friends, I've taught religious education for grades 2-8 and this might come as a surprise to you—or maybe it won’t—but young people, by and large, are not all that attracted to a warm fuzzy Jesus. Young people want something solid; they want something real out of their faith and if it seems too wishy washy or ordinary, they typically walk away from it. If it is just another chore or activity amongst a litany of chores and activities, they’ll abandon it without fail. This is similar to how kids whose parents teach them the meaning of discipline and responsibility typically learn how to function in the world quicker than those kids who have what are sometimes called “cool parents.” I was always a perceptive kid and it didn’t take me long to realize that my friends who had the so-called “cool parents”—the ones who allowed them do pretty much anything they wanted, almost always exhibited visible problems with emotional and psychological development. They were lacking something vital that all of us crave: order and meaning and purpose. 

In the Gospel story of the Good Shepherd, Jesus offers a parable which depicts him as the Shepherd and the rest of us as various flocks of sheep. Some of us are his sheep because we recognize and listen to his voice; some of us, well, choose not to listen to his voice. Jesus makes it clear that those of us who do listen to his voice can never be snatched away from God the Father’s hand because Jesus—the Shepherd—and the Father are one. So as a Good Shepherd would do, Jesus is committed to ensuring that all of his sheep are safe—even the ones who mistakenly wander off. But if we go back a little before today’s Gospel reading starts, we see that Jesus is also interested in Shepherding the sheep who are not in the immediate sheep pen. This club is not exclusive; Jesus is willing to bring all sheep into his infinitely large sheep pen, if only they will hear his voice. 

This might initially seem like an abrupt transition, but trust me, it will all come together. As Mother's Day is in May, I cannot help but see the relationship between shepherds and mothers. Mothers are shepherds. Mothers do not love any of their children more or less than others. A mother would stop at nothing to protect her children—even the ones who go astray. Back in my early 20’s, I was living in Los Angeles and I was fortunate enough to find myself close to a few members of the production team of the film, The Passion of the Christ; for those of you who have seen it, you might recall the scene where Jesus is carrying the cross and Mary is trying desperately to push her way through the crowds to get to him. The scene flashes back and forth between Jesus carrying the cross and Jesus as a toddler running; the flashbacks are from Mary’s perspective and she sees him running and he trips and falls; like a good mother, she drops what she is holding and frantically runs to him; she reaches him and says “I’m here;” the scene flashes back to the present and she is running toward Jesus as he falls with the cross on top of him; she reaches him like a shepherd reaching a lost sheep and says “I’m here,” but Jesus flips the narrative because he is THE Good Shepherd; as she embraces him, he reaches out and places his hand on her face and says “See Mother! I make all things new,” and he picks up his cross and continues on; this is the final time Mary touches her Son before his death. I have seen the film a few dozen times and I still get extremely choked up every time I watch this scene.

All of us have reached an age or will reach an age where, like Jesus, we will have to take the wisdom imparted upon us by our mothers and go out into the world to fulfill our purpose, our mission. Jesus knew his mission and persevered toward Golgotha. Hopefully we all eventually learn our purpose and accept it, even if—especially if--that purpose means carrying a cross. But Jesus still remembered his Mother from the cross. He ensured that she was cared for, telling John that she was now his Mother—and ours. 

Good mothers, like good shepherds, are not pushovers. We tend to think of mothers as meek and gentle, in the same way that we think of shepherds as these guys who just walk around in pastures with flowing robes moving sheep around. But neither of these images are remotely accurate. I can’t speak for anyone else’s mom, but my mom—while she can be gentle—is far from meek; my mom has always been deeply involved in my development and even in the pre-cell phone age when I was growing up, my mom knew where I was at every moment of the day. I still have to call my mom whenever I travel to let her know that I've arrived at my destination safely. Likewise, shepherds are not these gentle farmers strolling in pastures; they’re often rather gruff, gritty and rugged fellas. Sheep, like us, are stubborn animals; when a shepherd has to use his crook to get a sheep in line, it is not always gentle. Sometimes, the shepherd has to get forceful; not abusive, but deliberate; not out of anger or spite, but out of love. Mothers, I think you all can relate to this. When we have to get stern with our children, it is not from a mean-spirited place; it is out of love. 

This is the message of Jesus as the Good Shepherd; while today’s Gospel is from John, if we look at the Jesus presented in the Gospel of Mark, he is an easily irritated person. God has the capacity to become irritated or angry; it only follows logically that Jesus, being one with God, would have been prone to the same emotions. But anger is an emotion—not the opposite of love, but oftentimes stemming directly from love. Jesus’ annoyance with the sheep—the people—who choose not to hear his voice comes from a place of passionate, deep love. He knows us better than we’ll ever know ourselves; mothers, how many of you have said that to your children? You would never let your children go astray without doing everything in your power to rein them in; you hope that eventually, your children will hear your voice and your words and get back on the right track. Likewise, Jesus does not take lightly the idea of his sheep—us—going astray and he tirelessly stops at nothing to call out to us in the hope that we will hear his voice.  

My friends, it is no secret that our world is chaotic. There is seemingly far more disorder than order in this world. If there is anything that I can offer you, it is this: slow down; collect yourselves; take some time to appreciate silence for the sake of discernment; we all get lost from time to time, some of us more than others; sometimes it might seem like there is no hope; that we’ve gone too far astray to ever find redemption. I’m telling you here and now, that simply is not true. You ARE loved. God IS seeking you. Listen for the Shepherd’s voice; he is calling you and while it might seem like the noise and clamor of this world are drowning out his voice, I assure you, they cannot; the only thing that stands in the way of hearing his voice is our choosing not to hear it. Let’s get out of our own ways and accept the eternal life our Shepherd is offering us.