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.
-John 10:11-15
How many times in my life have I strayed from the flock of family and of friends-in-Christ to go it alone. How many times have I given in to the false belief that personal power and mastery are the path to fulfillment? How many times have I forgotten where a creative’s “ideas” come from, and how vital it is to ask for and accept help? Too many. Way too many.
Such go-it-alone episodes are equal in number to the number of times I have eventually looked in the mirror and seen a lost lamb — and Christ the Good Shepherd, standing behind me saying, “Fear not, my child. I have you.”
On Easter in 1988, our family gathered after church with friends over an obscenely abundant meal. The centerpiece of the meal was a butterflied, grilled leg of lamb. After a burst of noisy conversation, there was one of those dinner-table silences where one only hears forks and knives working the surface of porcelain plates. Above the squeaking and scraping, the small, sweet voice of our 4-year-old son, Nick rose to ask a question: ” Mom? …Um, what was leg-of-lamb before it was ‘Leg-of-Lamb’?” The fork-scraping stopped. The table looked at Vicki and me, knowing this was a parent’s answer. We paused just a little too long, so Nick tried again, “Was it always Leg-of-Lamb?” Nick’s nine-year-old sister, Marcail, jumped in with her usual incisive honesty, bleating,“NaaaAAaaah!”, answering for the sacrificed lamb on the table.
The gathering broke into a combination of laughter and groans. This Easter moment of 1988 lives in me as a reminder that Christ, the sacrificial lamb in thirty-something AD, is Christ our Good Shepherd today.
After lunch, during cleanup; the doorbell rang. On the porch slouched a disheveled street person in soiled biker clothes. “Hey man, can you give me something to eat? I’m really hungry.” His beer breath reached me from across the porch. I pointed to the right and around the corner and dismissively said, “The church rectory is down the block. Brick building; blue door. They can help you.” As he walked away from our house, he cried out to the empty street, “WHY IS EVERYONE SO MEAN?”
I returned to the kitchen and a counter heaped with uneaten food. I smelled the rich, seasoned meat and realized The Lamb had come to my house for dinner and I had turned him away. It was one of those moments when you knew you had failed the Risen Christ – on Easter, no less. Fighting back tears, I prayed for forgiveness and asked for a second chance.
Be careful what you pray for…
By December that year, my life had come unraveled, and I had entered the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. In January of 1989, one month sober, I went to an AA meeting in the basement of the Yale Health Plan. I was a tender “newcomer.” Across the table from me sat Tom, my now sober, Easter biker-street person. He now had more sobriety than I. Tom and I became friends. Over the years, we used our shared story to help other alcoholics into the sweet meadow of recovery with other fellow lost lambs.
Jesus, sacrificial lamb, Jesus the Good Shepherd; He indeed knows his sheep. He is always gathering us up from the wilderness and delivering us back into his fold. And The Good Shepherd is patient; He gives second chances. Every day. Pay attention.
Musical Reflection - The Lamb - John Taverner. Tenebrae Choir
Heavenly Father, loving shepherd; give me strength. When the seductive whisper of self dependence calls me into the wilderness, alone – help me to say, ““NaaaAAaaah!”. Amen.
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