Sheep, Shepherds, And Dogs

"Sheep, Shepherds, and Dogs"

John 10:11-18
May 3, 2009

‘I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The
hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming
and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them.
The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the
good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and
I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not
belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will
be one flock, one shepherd. For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down
my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own
accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have
received this command from my Father.’

When I was researching this text for today’s sermon, I did a quick scan of the passages
where sheep come into play, and I did a search to see how many times I had chosen
those passages to preach from, which was not that many times. Yes, we preacher
types will sometimes—actually, most of the time—go for the passages that are easier to
preach from, or, use a framework that is easier for both preacher and lay person to
understand. I think the reason why I’ve avoided passages about sheep and shepherds
is because the metaphor is so incredibly foreign to me—first, because I wasn’t raised
on a farm, and but actually, more importantly, because I simply have no experience with
sheep! Nothing. Nada. I think I’ve seen a few sheep, but as a framework, the
metaphor escapes me, and challenges me, and I feel just inadequate to get to the
marrow of a text if the framework is so foreign to me to begin with. Now, there are
farming metaphors all over the Bible, and I can at least get some of those because they
are so plentiful and because I have a bit more experience with the farm than I do the
grazing field—of course, many of you have A LOT more experience on the farm than I
ever will—but sheep and shepherds…well, aside from the some paintings and stain
glass windows, it’s not something I’ve ever been able to quite connect with.

But I need to, we need to, connect with this metaphor, because it obviously mattered
enough to Jesus that he used it to describe his relationship to each of us. We are
sheep, and he is the shepherd, like it or not—and I once pastored a congregation
where a few folks had a real problem with this analogy—they would never have stood
for the idea of being just sheep! And yet, this metaphor, its actually pretty amazing, if
we give it a first century context, if we think of it as Jesus and the ancients thought of
shepherds and sheep. In the first century, there was no one lower on the social scale
than shepherds—the work was risky, it was menial, and shepherd were known to be
rough around the edges, and they spent way too much time in the fields alone than in
the company of good, polite society. Farmers were far more respected than
shepherds, and so to see Jesus saying that he is like one of these less than
respectable folks, well, I think it obviously says something about who he identified with—
the nobodies, the less thans, the folks on the margin of society…in our culture,
someone like an illegal migrant might be the equivalent. Still, it’s still a difficult
metaphor to connect with, and yes, maybe that is just me, but I do think as our culture
has gotten further from the field, metaphors like this are harder and harder for many
Christians to connect with—so many of us, not all of us, but most of us, are so
disconnected from the land, and from animals, that it becomes harder to get what Jesus
is trying to tell us here.

And yet, the reality is that as we have moved further from the farm, we have become a
culture that is bringing more and more animals into our homes, closer to us. You know
the one area of the economy that isn’t hurting all that badly during these difficult
times? The pet food industry, the pet suppliers, all those folks who take care of us with
pets. Now, it must be said that as the economy has gone south, more and more of us
are having to leave our pets at the shelters, because families are finding it harder and
harder to take care of their pets—that is one thing we’re going to try and address on
Saturday, which is give people an opportunity to see adoptable pets from the local
Humane Society. Still, the numbers from the pet care industry itself are pretty solid,
compared to the rest of the economy, and this embrace of our pets, in ways that is
different than in the past, is being borne out in dozens and dozens of books about pets
and their owners, and a dozen television shows about dogs and dog training and pet
rescue operations. We have become fascinated with our pets, and especially our
dogs, as evidenced in a new book by Michael Schaeffer called One Nation Under Dog:
Adventures in the New World of Prozac-Popping Puppies, Dog-Park Politics, and
Organic Pet Food. Even I’m interested in getting the dog park going here in Coloma—I
love my dogs, even if they drive me crazy, even when they cost us $165 like they did
this past Friday, with their shots and heart and flea medicines!

So, maybe, I wonder if it would be better to think in terms of dogs and dog owners,
rather than sheep and shepherds, in order to understand what Jesus is trying to tell us
here. Perhaps we need to think in terms of packs of dogs instead of herds of sheep,
and dog owners, or pack leaders, instead of shepherds. I say that only because for
most of us, it is dogs, but sometimes cats, that are the closest animals to us, the ones
we have the most contact with. I know that this may push some of you to the limit, but
bear with me, alright?   Sometime the limit is where we need to go, like Jesus did, when
he used smelly, rough, and somewhat suspect shepherds to make the analogy about
his relationship between him and us. I think the dog metaphor works, and I think it
works because I’ve been watching too much television, more specifically, the work of
Cesar Milan, the dog trainer, otherwise known as the dog whisperer. Cesar is a well
know celebrity dog trainer, and has his own show on the National Geographic Channel,
and he’s been an eye opener to me, someone like me who hasn’t owned a dog for
years and years, not until a few years ago. Cesar talks about training dog owners
more than he does training dogs, and he spends a lot of time making owners aware of
the energy they give off, and how dogs can sense the energy of their masters, and
even other dogs, and how that energy effects their behavior in either good or bad
ways.

I got a reminder of that truth on Friday when I had to take our two dogs to the vet, and I’
ve been kind of skittish for the past few days, and I think the dogs sensed it from me,
and for the first time ever, my dog Chloe nipped at me when I tried to take her into the
vet’s examination room. And to compound that, my other dog has a lot more anxious
and nervous energy going on, something Chloe has had to get used to, and it all just
came to head on Friday! Fireworks galore! Never experienced that from Chloe before,
but I sense that she felt some nervous energy from me, and just like people, dogs
respond to nervous and unclear energy by becoming nervous and unclear
themselves. The biggest thing I’ve learned from Cesar is the importance of good
energy, of projecting and paying attention to the energy I am giving off to my pets,
something I’ve always known is true about people, but I hadn’t thought of it when it
comes to animals. Good leaders and good pack leaders pay attention to what they are
saying with their bodies, their auras, their energy, and they direct it in a way that
positively effects everyone around them.

Perhaps that makes our text clearer today, this text about Jesus being a good
shepherd, one who is faithful, a pack leader whose energy is positive, life-giving and
loyal—good leaders, of dogs or humans, provide a safe environment for everyone,
even when setting boundaries with those whom they lead, those whom they love. This
isn’t some hired dog walker—this is someone who is going to work and work with you,
this Christ is someone who is as faithful to you as you are to him—even more faithful, if
the truth be told. We love our dogs because they are so loyal to us, but our text today
from John says that it’s the shepherd, the pack leader, so to speak, that is the most
loyal, and will never run away from us, will keep us safe, even in the midst of the
dangers all around us.

Cesar Milan often talks about us owners with bad energy, energy that hurts and
distracts their dogs.   Often he will take dogs from their homes and put them in his Dog
Psychology Center in LA—and the dogs he takes there are the red zone cases, the
dogs who are either very aggressive towards other dogs or towards humans, or
sometimes even both. He puts these red zone cases into this pack of some 50 dogs he
keeps there so that they can be re-socialized, can be retrained on how to be part of a
pack, and he does this by using the good energy of the pack to retrain this red zone
dog.   Often it works, and the dogs are returned to their masters, but the interesting
thing is that if the owners haven’t changed their own energy, the dogs quickly just
revert to the exact pattern they had exhibited before. What this says is that the energy
of the pack leader, the one who cares for us, corrects us, keeps us safe, is so
important to the life of the animal, that if she or he can’t change that energy, the dog
and owner will never have a good life together. And for those of us who look to the
Christ as our guide, this text keeps reminding us that this who one who leads us has
good energy, graceful energy, loyal energy—energy that knows us, and is known by
us. And this is the kind energy, the giver of life, that will do anything for those whom he
leads, to the point of laying down his life for his pack, for his herd—and this is in
contrast to the hired shepherd, the hired hand, who doesn’t care about the pack, and
who won’t do anything beyond the minimum, and who simply there for the paycheck—
perhaps it’s the religious leaders of Jesus’ day, who don’t care about the flock beyond
the paycheck, and its important to be careful of that today, to be wary of those who are
simply in ministry or leadership for the big money or the one-day-a-week workweek.
Just kidding…

One of the things I’ve learned about dogs by owning one, and now two, for the first time
in years is that their sight isn’t very good. I notice sometimes that Chloe and Zuki don’t
recognize me from far away, not until I say something to them, and then their tails start
wagging.   They know me by my voice, an idea that is hinted here in our text, this idea
that we recognize our loved ones by their voices. And yet, as I was reading this, I was
reminded that most of us don’t actually know the real voice of Jesus—we don’t get the
privilege of knowing our master’s voice, at least not literally of course. My dogs know
me because they’re familiar with my audible voice, they know the tone and tenor of it,
but you and I, we’re not quite as lucky as they are, at least when it comes to God—and
that brings up the question: how do you and I know when Christ is actually speaking to
us, rather than someone else, someone with an evil agenda, or simply someone who is
wrong about something? Or how do we know whether or not it’s just us talking to
ourselves, justifying our beliefs, our agendas, and simply using our beliefs about Christ
to justify that which is just our own opinion about this or that issue? Let’s face it:
everyone seems to be pretty sure they know the mind of God when it comes to issues
they are passionate about, so how can we know whether or not the voice we’re listening
to is the voice of God, or the voice of someone more sinister, or more likely, our own
voice, justifying our own needs, wants, desires?

Well, I’d like to think that we kind of it know it instinctively, like we know good, positive
energy, when we feel, like when dogs and animals know good energy when they are in
the present of that energy. I’ve always said that we can know whether something or not
is from God by what it asks us to do—does it ask us to love, or to hate? Does it ask us
to give grace, or administer judgment? Does it ask us to set healthy boundaries for
ourselves, or does it ask us to be run over by others who use us? Does it empower us,
or does it disempower us—does it do what Christ is saying and doing in our text, which
is to take the reins of our self, and use it in a way that is healthy and whole—Jesus
says here in this text these words: For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay
down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my
own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. This
Jesus is a self, a person, not the patsy of anyone, nor manipulated by anyone, but a
whole and healthy self that gives his life away of his own volition, his own will, and not
because he has to be commanded or manipulated into it by God or anyone else. This
Christ has boundaries, even as they are pliable and flexible, which is a healthy thing,
and yet he loves those in his flock, and the boundaries help him to love even deeper
because there is a self to be given away, a self to be shared.

To know whether the voice of the shepherd, the pack leader, whatever, is the voice of
God, you only need to listen to what that voice is asking you and I to do. Is the voice
telling me to love or to hate, to open or to close, to be gentle, or to be harsh, to give
grace, or to judge? In Romans 13, the apostle Paul writes: Owe no one anything,
except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The
commandments, “You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not
steal; You shall not covet”; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word,
“Love your neighbor as yourself.” Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is
the fulfilling of the law.   The measure of a voice, of an energy, whatever, is whether or
not that voice tells us to love or not to love—if it is life-giving or death dealing, that will
tell us who it is that speaks to us.

Now, I know that isn’t going to be an easy thing to do always, to tell the difference
between good words and bad words, good energy and bad energy, but the way we test
that voice is to see how we respond to that voice, to see how the energy gets
released. This past week, I was visiting Alice, whose husband Leon is now in a nursing
home in Bloomingdale, and she was telling me about some men who are good friends
of Leon, who used to meet with him for breakfast every Tuesday morning. Those visits
have ceased, of course, because of illness, but like a lot of people who want to express
their care for someone but don’t know how to—and this is generally more true of men
than women—these good friends didn’t how to help, how to respond to Leon’s terminal
illness. So Alice decide to give them a job, a way to release their pent-up concern,
their pent-up energy, and so she asked them to bring a comfortable sitting chair from
Leon’s home to the nursing home. I suspect that they couldn’t have been happier and
more pleased because it gave them something to do, some way to express their care.
And so, some time last week all five or six of them gathered to transport this simple
chair from his home to the nursing center—and you would have thought they had been
asked to move the queen’s throne by all the care and focus they brought to that simple
task. You see, you know whether or not the shepherd has actually asked us to do
something in this world by what kind of energy that work releases into this world, by
what kind of goodness is released into this world. Last week, good energy got released
in Coloma and Bloomingdale. We know we have heard the voice of the Good
Shepherd by the goodness and the love that is left behind, left behind for all of the rest
of us to see. The trick, of course, is to actually do the love and grace the Good
Shepherd has asked us to do, isn’t it?    Amen.