Fourth Sunday of Easter
April 30, 2023 – Year A
Readings: Acts 2:14a, 36-41 / Ps 23 / 1 Pt 2:20b-25 / Jn 10:1-10
by Rev. Jay Biber, Guest Celebrant

The theme of the Good Shepherd often refers to the shepherds of the Church, and there have been some times of suffering they’ve had in that regard.  But I’ve gotten a pretty good sense over the years that Catholics (and I don’t think it’s just Catholics, either) want a shepherd’s voice.  They want a voice they can trust.

To me, the most important shepherds are parents.  There are those who would like to take children and put them in the care of the state.  We’re beginning to see that more and more clearly.  But in our experience – and I speak for two or three thousand years of experience — in every corner of the world, and every conceivable government, Mom, Dad, and the kids is the way to go.  That’s the core of a society; the state cannot replace that.  Whatever the state or the empire offers in our vision needs to be a partnership with Mom and Dad, and part of the challenge is restoring Mom and Dad.  It is not giving up on marriage but redoubling our prayer and our efforts.

This is the central mystery of how we socialize one another, how we become human. I see a lot of kids today – I know you see them in school – they’re not evil but they are feral.  There’s a feral quality to them.  They’re supposed to be socializing, but they haven’t been given the benefit of learning how to socialize.

I used to spend a lot of time in prisons.  The parishioners said about the prisoners, “They’re all trying to con you.” They said, “But they need to be rehabbed.” And I said, “No, they need to be habbed, because they were never habbed to start with.” So, for us, the way that takes place is the shepherding; the shepherding of the mother and father.

Think of that voice – that voice of God.  I know many people were praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet before 8:00 Mass this morning.  They were praying the Rosary at Resurrection in Smith Mountain Lake yesterday afternoon.  We had a devotion at Lexington to the Eucharistic Miracles, and that devotion to Christ in the Eucharist.  How many have heard in those moments of still and quiet, not the focus on each Hail Mary, but letting the beads slip through the fingers, creating a spirit of tranquility, a spirit of quiet order, a spirit where life is restored and recentered, and that, I suspect, is that voice, the voice of the shepherd that the sheep hear?

It’s helpful to begin with the assumption that all of us are sheep and shepherd.  Because I’m the sheep, too.  I’m the one who gets lost and is stubborn and doesn’t want to hear it.  And so, I’m that, too.  It’s helpful to not think of yourself as one or the other.  We’re all both.

When a baby’s been around Mom since the beginning, it knows that voice.  Think of it, kids, and I think Mothers can probably tell you.  Sometimes Dad, too, but I think Mom has a special place here for many.

Maybe the first time after you were born that Mom and Dad went out on a date – finally got out a little bit – but as far as you were concerned, you couldn’t put it into words as we often can’t.  You couldn’t put it into words, but your world as you knew it was coming to an end.  Total disorder; total chaos; now what?  Where do I go from here?  Then, maybe the babysitter had some nice sweets and cooing, and some music.  But at some point, that began to wear off, and your cry started to rise.  It may well have been that only when you heard your mother’s voice again did the world begin to be a friendly place again, a place where you could count on a certain order, where you could count on a certain tranquility, because you knew you were in a safe place.  There was a place you were protected.

The image of Christ as the Good Shepherd has a second element.  Did you hear that part of the gospel that said, “I am the gate for the sheep”?  Well, you say, how could you be the shepherd and the gate?  How can you be both?

I learned about a sheepfold, as they called it in those days.  Imagine a stone wall in the shape of a circle, with one entrance.  They would put thorns and bristles and shrubs and bushes on top of the wall, so that basically no predator could jump over and attack the flock.  Where did the shepherd sleep?  Right in the doorway – the one entrance.  So, I suppose the way we would put it, the shepherd’s making a statement.  “If you’re coming in here, you’re coming in over my dead body.”

When I sort-of retired, I wanted to go to a campus town.  Many of you know I live in Lexington with Washington & Lee and VMI.  Part of my reason was that I’d seen a lot of kids in college begin to lose faith.  And I began to ask myself the question, “What’s going on here?”  It seems to happen sort of quietly, drip by drip by drip.  And all of a sudden, what was there isn’t there anymore.  So, what’s going on here?  What’s wrong with this picture?

Part of me said, I don’t want them to lose the gift that’s most precious.  This gift is most precious of all:  the work of Christ, and how it touches us; our vision of the human person; our vision of who we were from the moment of our conception, and our great human dignity from the moment of our conception and all through life.  I don’t want them losing that.  So, I was focusing on college.  I want to give them the words so they know how to recognize when something’s wrong with the picture, and they know what words to use.  They know what to say.

Of course, as Covid came on, many of us have had sort of a rude awakening:  That it isn’t just college kids.  It drips on down, in multiple respects, and it’s fair enough if there are those who think the state does a better job than parents.  They have a right to think that.  I don’t have an obligation to believe it:  I think it’s dead wrong.  It’s incumbent upon us to be that protector, to be that voice of the shepherd, to learn the words ourselves.  It can’t just be a feeling.  We have to learn the words and say, “This is why it’s wrong.”  So my kids can go to school and, when they hear things, they have a response.

Looking back, I feel that we haven’t protected them, largely out of ignorance, maybe some laziness.  Because to learn the words of the Faith, to learn the depth of it, takes work.   To develop that vocabulary, to be able to challenge the vocabulary that they get, that takes work.

But it’s a protection, I believe, worth offering.  Ours is the greatest story.  We need not fear other stories, but we have to take the time to study them, and then to respond to them and to say, “No, we’ve got something better.”

As we contemplate – Moms and Dads, and certainly priests and religious –It’s a tough place to begin for most of you, I think, maybe saying to yourself, “I wouldn’t know where to begin putting the words to this thing; I’m clueless.”  Well, I say some of the same words.  But you know something?  I think clueless is the best place to start.  Because God – we need Him.  Because now it’s not just a pleasant thing on a Sunday – now we need Him.

And then we offer ourselves and just say, “Do with me what You want and, just, Lord, one thing:  Don’t let me get in Your way.  Don’t let me get in Your way.  I give You permission to do what you want with me.  And to sit and see how You, like in every generation, have set things right.”