Many times in the Old Testament God’s people are spoken of as sheep, led by a shepherd. The image would be a very natural one in the Ancient Near East, where wandering flocks led by a shepherd were everywhere a familiar sight. Abraham, Isaac and Jacob were all shepherds. Moses and Joshua are portrayed as shepherds guiding Israel to freedom, and to the promised land (cf. Nb 27:17). David was taken from shepherding sheep to become the Kingly shepherd of Israel (cf. 2 Sm 5:2). We find this same image several times in the Psalms, and in the prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Zechariah. Unfortunately, as the sacred history relates, all too often the Kings, Priests and Prophets, whose task it was to shepherd Israel, proved to be unfaithful. Just one example would be the wicked King Ahab. He was warned that if he went up to attack Ramoth Gilead, “all Israel would be scattered on the mountains, like sheep without a shepherd” (1 K 22:17). In response to the false shepherds, again and again, the authentic prophets thundered out condemnations (cf. e.g. Jer 23:1; Ezk 34:10; Zech 11:17, 13:7). Again and again they insisted that whatever human shepherds might currently be leading the people, ultimately God himself is the shepherd of Israel (cf. e.g. Ps 22:1; 94:7; Is 40:11; Jer 23:3; Ezk 34:11). And they pointed towards an ideal future shepherd, a new King David, the Messiah. When he came, he would lead the people to God in a definitive way (cf. e.g. Jer 23:5; Ezk 34:23; Is 53:6).
This Old Testament background clearly informs our Lord’s Good Shepherd discourse, given in the 10th Chapter of St. John’s Gospel. When Jesus identifies himself as Shepherd, he is implicitly claiming to be the Messiah. It’s typical of the great discourses in St. John’s Gospel that, under the form of figures, Jesus presents us with the mystery that is himself: his identity, his mission, his character. His words are dense in meaning, which reveals itself only gradually, after sustained reflection, and humble prayer. They have to be read within the context of the rest of this Gospel, as well as of the rest of Holy Scripture. So we’d be wrong to look here for a simple allegory, with a single correct interpretation. The images shift. Jesus is both the Gate, and the Shepherd who comes through the Gate. The sheepfold could be Israel, or the whole human race, or the Church, or heaven. Yet those safely enclosed within it also freely go in and out. The gatekeeper could perhaps be God the Father, or Moses, or St. John the Baptist; or he could just be a common sheepfold gatekeeper.
For understanding today’s passage, in the first place it’s good to recall the immediately preceding dialogue and confrontation with the Pharisees. There, in his Chapter 9, St. John recounted how Jesus gave sight to a man born blind. Because he did that on a Sabbath day, the Pharisees harshly condemned him as a law breaker, a sinner, a blasphemer: one who could not be from God. And Jesus in turn harshly condemned the Pharisees. The Chapter ends with the terrible words: your guilt remains.
As usual with St. John, there is irony here. The Pharisees imagined themselves to be, appointed themselves to be, the true shepherds of Israel. In their own eyes they were perfectly faithful to God. But no. In rejecting Jesus they have made themselves worse than the worst of the ancient Kings. Driving people away from Jesus, they were breaking the law in its most crucial aspect. So they are numbered here among the thieves and brigands, whose aim is to steal and kill and destroy (10:10). For Jesus came to bring into effect what the law, and especially the Sabbath observance, could only point towards. Through Jesus, at last we are able to belong completely to God; we come freely into his presence; we worship him; we hear his word; we see his face; we enter his rest. Ultimately then there is only one sin: to reject Jesus; to refuse belief in him. That is a sin against the light; the final decisive sin against God.
One by one, says Jesus, he calls his own sheep and leads them out (10:3).
Above all, Jesus leads his sheep by means of his death, and his resurrection from the dead. As he says later, at the last Supper: Where I am going - that is, to the Father - you cannot follow me now, though you will follow me later (13:36). By his Paschal mystery, by giving us a share in his own risen life, Jesus leads us to God. Once again we note here again that the allegory is not merely simple, for unlike any ordinary shepherd, Jesus leads his sheep entirely for their benefit, and not at all for his own. He lays down his life for them; for he is also himself the lamb of sacrifice (cf. 1:29; 19:36). Let me just observe in passing that, according to St. John’s Passion narrative, Jesus will be betrayed by a thief (12:6), and given up to be crucified in place of a brigand (18:40).
Reading this Gospel in its proper Eucharistic context powerfully helps us pass from the notional to the real; from the assent of faith, to an actual encounter with Jesus himself. The door of which Jesus speaks stands open for us, here and now: and through our liturgical participation, we choose to enter it. It’s the door to God, to heaven, to life, to salvation. But it’s necessarily also the door to all other good things: to healing; to forgiveness; to holiness; to wholeness; to freedom from our bad habits or besetting sins; to prayer; to the courage we feel we lack; to joy.
Feed my sheep, said Jesus to Peter, and to all Pastors of the Church who will follow him (21:17). Be a shepherd who will effectively mediate the one shepherd. Stand in my place, leading my flock to nourishing pasture. Bring me, he says, to people; mediate my presence, my power, my love, my self gift, my life.
Today we pray especially for our Pastors, that they may be this door way for those in their care. We pray the Lord also to raise up new holy and faithful Pastors, who will be ready to lay down their lives for their sheep. And we pray also for ourselves: that each of us too may be a doorway for those we meet, or love, or for whom we care, or pray: that they also may come to Jesus, to God, to life, in all its abundance.