Today, on Good Shepherd Sunday, I am struck by two figures in competition to enter the sheepfold: the shepherd and the thief.
The thief In a number of places, both in the gospels and in the epistles, we hear of the thief who comes on the day of the Lord. The use of the pejorative word ‘thief’ indicates the negative experience of the unready, even though the one coming is the long-awaited One. In the book of Revelation, Jesus explicitly identifies himself with this thief: “If you are not watchful, I will come like a thief, and you will never know at what hour I will come upon you.” (Rv 3:3) “See, I am coming like a thief! Blessed is the one who stays awake.” (Rv 16:15) I can’t help thinking that Jesus is being a bit of a tease, weaving together the theme of the virgins with their lamps, waiting more or less readily for the bridegroom, and the homeowner with his gun, ready or not for one who wants to break in and steal. (What does Jesus want to steal, but our hearts?) St Therese must have understood the joke as well, since she took to singing a ditty as her death approached: “Le voleur viendra, alleluia! – The thief is coming, alleluia!”
In today’s passage though, Jesus is at pains to differentiate his coming from that of another kind of thief: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they might have life and have it more abundantly. I am the good shepherd.” (Jn 10:10-11) The danger for the sheep and those who keep them is that the thief may be taken for the shepherd, or vice versa.
The sheepfold The flock is kept safe within a sheepfold, protected by walls and a gate, guarded by a gatekeeper. This sheepfold is a type of enclosure. These days we are very much aware of our practice of enclosure with the need to keep the virus out. The virus is like a symbol of all that we do not want – the thief who comes to steal and kill and destroy, whether the life of the body or of the soul. These times also call us to explore at greater depth the paradox that withdrawal from direct contact with people outside actually brings us closer to them in solidarity and intercession. Life in the enclosure is for the world. Unlike our brothers and sisters in the world, we choose to live in an enclosure, the Lord’s sheepfold, all the time. We make this choice not to reject the world outside, but to create a buffer zone between us and “the world’s ways” so that we may be freer to live as Christ calls us to. St Benedict expresses this in the fourth chapter of the Rule: “Your way of acting should be different than the world’s way; the love of Christ must come before all else.” (RB 4.20-21) Within the enclosure, we have everything we need to foster life in Christ. When we go out or allow someone or something in, we need discretion to distinguish between what will help us to follow Christ, and what will not help or even hinder us. This is the principal task of the gatekeeper.
The gatekeeper St Benedict instructs the abbot or abbess of a monastery to be like the Good Shepherd. She is to keep in mind, with Jacob, that: “If I drive my flocks too hard, they will all die in a single day” (Gn 33:13; RB 64.18). She must go in search of the wandering, the lost, the marginalized, the isolated, and carry them home on her shoulders. She can afford to spare no effort in seeking ways to heal the wounds of those under her care. To each one she is to give what they most need, whether this be gentle encouragement or firm rebuke or the challenge of a seemingly impossible task (Cf. RB 2, 27, 64). However, and this is important, the abbot or abbess is not the Good Shepherd, but a deputy, a representative. The sheep belong to someone else, and whatever is done by the deputy will be held to account when the Father of the household comes to claim his sheep. In this sense, the abbess is like a gatekeeper, responsible for listening for the shepherd’s voice in all circumstances, so as to act as he would. Like the virgins or the homeowner, the gatekeeper must be on the watch and ready to distinguish between friend and foe, between the shepherd and the thief.
The shepherd’s voice But the sheep know the shepherd’s voice. And so, even should the gatekeeper fail in his task and a thief be granted entry, the sheep will know that something is up and will not follow a stranger’s voice. Each one of us in community shares in the gatekeeper’s responsibility to discern, to recognize the shepherd’s voice, and not to follow the voice of a stranger. How do we learn to recognize the shepherd’s voice? Since we are the sheep of his flock, there is something innate in us that responds to him with joy and lightness of spirit. Our life in the sheepfold is not just a matter of eating and sleeping in security. The enclosure of the monastery is the place where we learn to put on the mind of Christ. We hear his voice in the liturgy and the scriptures, day in and day out. We repeat his words to ourselves all day long. Our purpose is to allow ourselves to be formed by this continual exposure. The more we hear the voice of the shepherd, the more easily we can distinguish the voice of a stranger, the voice of the thief, which is jarring and destructive.
Each one of us is a gatekeeper, because we know that whatever we let into our own heart, for good or for ill, will affect those we live with. We can even say that what we let in affects all people, since we form a single body. If we let in anger, we will find ourselves taking it out on others. If we let in sadness or cynicism, it will take its toll on those around us. Too often, we let in the thief. In doing this, we become passive to the damage he does to our life and, through us, to that of others. If I let the thief in, the whole flock is worse off. It is my choice to let him in. Can I choose differently? We must reject the thief, and all his pomp, and all his empty promises. We must close the gate and stand guard. We must learn to recognize the voice of the thief when we hear it – and that of the shepherd, too. we must learn to recognize death when it is knocking on our gate – and life abundant, too. The thief that steals joy and kills love and destroys peace must be identified and rejected. It is the shepherd who gives life and love and strength and courage. Without him, we can do nothing. But we can – must – choose to listen to his voice, choose to follow him rather than another. If we let in Christ, he will prove blessedly infectious, and spread from one to another until everyone in the house is touched by his presence and filled with his life.