A Lost Lamb and The Good Shepherd

I wrote the following piece almost ten years ago. When it suddenly popped up mid-last week, I read it, and the memories of that hike flooded back. I decided its content contains essential lessons for this past Sunday’s Feast of the Good Shepherd:

The lone lamb suddenly appeared in the brush and then raced into the high desert running as fast as she could, both dogs close to her heels. Startled and worried, I began to holler for the dogs to return, for I thought the huge herd of sheep must still be up in the mountains where the dogs and I hike several times per week.

When we first moved to northern Nevada, we were warned about the perils of chasing sheep or cattle; our dogs could justifiably be shot in this open pasture country of the High Sierras. After finally corralling the dogs, I descended as rapidly as possible. But relaxed when I saw the shepherd driving the truck back up to his former campsite to retrieve his tiny RV and trailer it to the herds’ new destination.

He stopped only because I was standing in the middle of the dirt road and he could not drive around me, the road is too narrow.

Attempt at conversation

Reluctantly, he rolled down the window of his truck.

These shepherds are usually from Peru or Ecuador and speak very little English, so I knew to use short phrases and gestures about the lost sheep, pointing  to the Border Collie standing in the back of the truck. I told him about the lamb, where I had seen her, that she’d led my dogs away from the grasses of the stream and asked that he and his dog please find her.

“She has a baby” was all he said to my increasingly desperate attempts to persuade him to rescue her.

Finally, I gave up and nodded. “You’re going to leave them there.“

But I couldn’t stop thinking of that lamb, alone with a baby, up there, surrounded by predators. How could she survive the night? Amidst hungry coyotes, bears, and mountain lions looking for food to feed their young? Before turning into our driveway, I glanced across our dirt street and saw a neighbor with his young children working in their yard. I’ve seen some chickens around their place, maybe….

I hurried over with both panting dogs behind me and said, “Hi there! Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

Although we’d never met, my neighbor was friendly. He listened intently as I explained my fear for this new sheep mom and her baby up in the mountain. Then he grinned at his little girl and boy, who stood quietly listening.

“Come on, let’s go find them!”

He waved at me the next day as I walked by his house with the dogs. Pointing to the lamb and her baby, enclosed in fencing, he shouted,

“We found them!”

Sheep are known to be fearful.

I have been told they can die of fright; their need to be part of the herd is deep and powerful. And yet this female chose isolation in dangerous territory over abandoning her baby. Moreover, she successfully diverted the attention of my dogs to lure them away from her baby. This was not the image I had ever been taught about sheep: courageous, defenseless, but willing to fight to risk her life for that of her baby.

In those mostly silent thirty years of His life with Mary, Jesus must have known shepherds and come to understand their obligations. Likely, Jesus witnessed their actions and saw firsthand the choices that had to be made for the sake of the entire herd. Our Lord understands that the notion of a peaceful, meek shepherd is a fiction. These men must be prepared to fight off fearsome predators. And yet they had no standing in Israeli society. Consider David’s response to Saul when the King doubted his strength and courage. The boy was, after all, a ‘mere shepherd’.

Thy servant kept his father’s herds at pasture and often a lion or bear came and snatched a lamb from the midst of it; and I went out after him and struck him, and took the animal from his mouth.

How great must Jesus’ love for shepherds be?

Infinite because it was to the shepherds that the miracle of Jesus’ birth was revealed. Celestial music was unheard by rulers, religious people, and influential people in the land. Still, the shepherds heard it and were directed to the cave to worship the infant Lord of the Universe.

Indeed,

Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and lost one. Wouldn’t you leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the lost one until you found it? When found, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home, call in your friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Celebrate with me! I’ve found my lost sheep!’

Our Lord must also have appreciated the practicalities of the lone man entrusted with the lives of eight hundred or two thousand sheep. Jesus was well aware that the shepherd had no choice. He must leave behind the female who stays with her brand-new baby lamb. His words on this Feast of the Good Shepherd are worthy of wonder…of awe. They offer us profound consolation despite our fears, our illness, our doubts:

My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand…

Christ, the Good Shepherd, does what he knows is impossible for us. Christ leaves his flock to search for the one who has strayed. Grace saved the new mother who stayed to protect her infant.

And it is Grace that saves you.

And me.

Be not afraid, I am with you until the end of time.