What do sheep like to do in the summer? Have a baa-baa-cue!
What kind of car do sheep like to drive the best? A Lamborghini!
What do sheep wear to the beach? A baaa-kini.
What is the ultimate goal of sheep? To wool the world!
Where do sheep go on vacation? The Baahamas.
A math teacher was looking for a summer job. A farmer approached him and said, “I’ve got 47 sheep. I’ll pay you $200 to round them up for me.”
The mathematician smiled and said, “Sure. 50!” and put out his hand. (Wait for it—Math. Round UP.)
Why can’t you trust a sheep? Because they pull the wool over your eyes.
And now one for the armchair theologians in the house. Did you know the Protestant Reformer John Calvin, who promoted the idea of predestination, was first a failed shepherd? Yeah, the sheep refused to follow him because they believed in free wool.
One of the insults making the rounds these days is to call someone a sheep, or a group of people “sheeple.” It implies that that person or group is dim-witted, incapable of rational thought, is easily fooled, weakmindedly obedient rather than independent. It’s funny that many of us have this stereotype of sheep when most of us have no practical experience of them.
Other stereotypes about sheep are that they are docile, passive, stupid, easily fooled, and timid. Common, contemptuous phrases like “lambs to the slaughter,” or “follow like sheep” don’t help matters, either.
We don’t live in a part of the US where keeping sheep is a common thing. Now, places like Scotland, Ireland, New Zealand, the Navajo Nation in the desert Southwest—those places have more familiarity with sheep. But here in the Midwest? Not so much.
That’s a challenge when we get to the fourth Sunday in Easter, which is traditionally known as “Good Shepherd Sunday.” The only knowledge we have of sheep or shepherds is from the Bible stories, and they do reinforce those stereotypes, don’t they? We hear descriptions of sheep wandering off, and shepherds having to leave the 99 who stick together to go pull that one out of a bramble bush or a ravine.
However, those who spend time with sheep or even study them, get a different picture.
There’s a reason why sheep stories abound in the Bible. Sheep and goats were the first livestock species to be domesticated, more than 6,000 years ago in the Neolithic period in Europe, North Africa, and Mesopotamia in southwestern Asia—where Abram was born and raised, according to the story in Genesis[1]. Although originally kept for food, by the Bronze Age about a thousand years later, sheep were being bred to enhance their woolly coats so that the fibers could be collected and used as weaving was developing.
By the time the Book of Leviticus was developed, in its 19th chapter, Jewish law prohibited what is called “Sha’atnez”—the wearing of cloth made of both wool and linen fibers[2]. It’s the breeding of sheep by humans for denser coats that is probably responsible for thinking of sheep as clumsy, because they are so overgrown with wool right before shearing that their bodies were just not made for navigating well with such weight and bulk to maneuver.
The book of Exodus mentions sacrificing an unblemished lamb for the observance of the Passover of the Angel of Death while the Israelites were enslaved in Egypt—but then that practice did not become a custom, it is said, until after the 40 years in the wilderness was over.
So we would be forgiven if the picture we get on the surface from scripture is one of sheep as a means to an end, of passive victims.
The real story is much more complex.
Sheep have such a developed sense of smell that they can smell predators like wolves long before they see them—which is good, because their distance vision isn’t so great. Just like us, if you think about it, ha ha.
Far from mindlessly bunching together, sheep proclaim the wisdom that there is safety and even STRENGTH in numbers when they flock together. So much so that they get visibly agitated when they cannot see another sheep in their line of vision, even while grazing[3].
Sheep can overcome challenges—and learn by observation. For instance, in northern England, in Yorkshire, sheep farmers still claim the right of open grazing on public land. The sheep in one town were going everywhere—and eating up people’s landscaping on the edge of the moors. One person even got so fed up with his flowers being eaten to the roots that he held several sheep for ransom. To try to avoid sheep just going anywhere they please, the local authorities have installed 3-foot wide grids of round metal bars in the roads that were meant to keep sheep from crossing willy nilly all over town. Didn’t work for very long. Come to find out, the allegedly simple sheep figured out they could lay on their sides and roll over the grates to get to the other side—and soon every sheep in the flock was doing it, and munching down on the local gardens thereabouts[4]. I mean, can you imagine sheep figuring out and teaching each other how to stop, drop, and roll?
Sheep actually can, and do, learn their own names. And even with eyes on each side of their heads, they can differentiate human faces and interpret human emotions on them. And they can remember individual faces—both human and sheep—even after not seeing them for over two years[5]. Sheep have individual personalities, and have shown that they can have best friends within the flock—certain sheep whose company they simply prefer.
It is stories like these last ones that I share with you that, perhaps, rehabilitates the idea that Jesus intends for us to be HIS sheep, and his flock. Because if we are going to talk about Jesus being our shepherd, and what that means, especially in this time when people are worried about declining church membership and attendance, we might want to take stock of what it means to proclaim to a world that likes to denigrate sheep that there is power in the flock.
Because there IS power in the flock. But not just any flock. The sad truth is one of the biggest barriers to encouraging people to explore a life of faith is that some flocks have developed dysfunctional behavior. It can start with clergy—in some denominations, the ordained seem to be the only people that matter, and the members of the flock don’t get a say. That’s not good shepherding—that’s tyranny and even abuse of the ministry of all the baptized that Jesus, our good shepherd, calls us to embody.
But another fact is that the flocks themselves can sometimes be too resistant to outsiders. Some faith communities have groups within the flock that operate behind the scenes and actually exclude people from joining in their activities. Some have self-appointed “truth-tellers” who use their alleged dedication to “honesty” to say things and treat people in ways that they themselves would never tolerate. And this can be worse than wolves prowling around the perimeter of the flock, because betrayal can be far more destructive than straightforward attacks from enemies and outsiders, where you expect the predators to be.
Observing, once again, our animal counterparts, sheep, when threatened, bunch tightly together, with their heads to the center and their butts all pointing outward. While this may be practical in nature, when human church members mimic that behavior, we have to remember that the showing of our butts to the world is not the most attractive or inducive to newcomers. In order to add new sheep to the flock, everyone has to move over a bit, welcome new ideas and new faces in love rather than simply desperation. You can’t have growth and simultaneously have everything remain the same, and avoid change. The two things don’t go together.
Likewise, when individuals or teams step up to do things for the help of the flock, how often do they instead get worn down by constant critiques and criticisms in place of gratitude and thanks?
So we would be forgiven if the picture we get on the surface from scripture is one of sheep as a means to an end, of passive victims.
The real story is much more complex.
Far from mindlessly bunching together, sheep proclaim the wisdom that there is safety and even STRENGTH in numbers when they flock together. So much so that they get visibly agitated when they cannot see another sheep in their line of vision, even while grazing[3].
Sheep can overcome challenges—and learn by observation. For instance, in northern England, in Yorkshire, sheep farmers still claim the right of open grazing on public land. The sheep in one town were going everywhere—and eating up people’s landscaping on the edge of the moors. One person even got so fed up with his flowers being eaten to the roots that he held several sheep for ransom. To try to avoid sheep just going anywhere they please, the local authorities have installed 3-foot wide grids of round metal bars in the roads that were meant to keep sheep from crossing willy nilly all over town. Didn’t work for very long. Come to find out, the allegedly simple sheep figured out they could lay on their sides and roll over the grates to get to the other side—and soon every sheep in the flock was doing it, and munching down on the local gardens thereabouts[4]. I mean, can you imagine sheep figuring out and teaching each other how to stop, drop, and roll?
Sheep actually can, and do, learn their own names. And even with eyes on each side of their heads, they can differentiate human faces and interpret human emotions on them. And they can remember individual faces—both human and sheep—even after not seeing them for over two years[5]. Sheep have individual personalities, and have shown that they can have best friends within the flock—certain sheep whose company they simply prefer.
It is stories like these last ones that I share with you that, perhaps, rehabilitates the idea that Jesus intends for us to be HIS sheep, and his flock. Because if we are going to talk about Jesus being our shepherd, and what that means, especially in this time when people are worried about declining church membership and attendance, we might want to take stock of what it means to proclaim to a world that likes to denigrate sheep that there is power in the flock.
Because there IS power in the flock. But not just any flock. The sad truth is one of the biggest barriers to encouraging people to explore a life of faith is that some flocks have developed dysfunctional behavior. It can start with clergy—in some denominations, the ordained seem to be the only people that matter, and the members of the flock don’t get a say. That’s not good shepherding—that’s tyranny and even abuse of the ministry of all the baptized that Jesus, our good shepherd, calls us to embody.
But another fact is that the flocks themselves can sometimes be too resistant to outsiders. Some faith communities have groups within the flock that operate behind the scenes and actually exclude people from joining in their activities. Some have self-appointed “truth-tellers” who use their alleged dedication to “honesty” to say things and treat people in ways that they themselves would never tolerate. And this can be worse than wolves prowling around the perimeter of the flock, because betrayal can be far more destructive than straightforward attacks from enemies and outsiders, where you expect the predators to be.
Observing, once again, our animal counterparts, sheep, when threatened, bunch tightly together, with their heads to the center and their butts all pointing outward. While this may be practical in nature, when human church members mimic that behavior, we have to remember that the showing of our butts to the world is not the most attractive or inducive to newcomers. In order to add new sheep to the flock, everyone has to move over a bit, welcome new ideas and new faces in love rather than simply desperation. You can’t have growth and simultaneously have everything remain the same, and avoid change. The two things don’t go together.
Likewise, when individuals or teams step up to do things for the help of the flock, how often do they instead get worn down by constant critiques and criticisms in place of gratitude and thanks?
This parish flock is particularly operated by a small staff and a dedicated core of volunteers. The flock will only be strong if two things happen: first, if everyone supports with their time and talent at least one outwardly directed ministry or internal need. Many hands make light work—that right there is proof there is power in the flock.
For instance, look at the bulletin in your hands. It takes at least ten people’s contributions—from Gail who schedules (or we could say wrangles) the worship ministers, to Barb who organizes the altar guild and Sherrie who organized the children’s chapel (itself a monumental important program), to Janet who helps keep track of the weekly financials with Page as well as the prayer lists and flower dedications to Denise who chooses the music to fit the readings each week and writes her music notes, to Page and Kelly and Derek who draft it all together to myself choosing the artwork and the prayers, making sure the liturgical parts are appropriate to the season and the needs of the congregation, just to make that bulletin each week, post it to the website, get it printed, and then for Bill to use it to program our broadcasts, which also takes hours. And then our volunteer communications director adding in announcements from all over.
For instance, look at the bulletin in your hands. It takes at least ten people’s contributions—from Gail who schedules (or we could say wrangles) the worship ministers, to Barb who organizes the altar guild and Sherrie who organized the children’s chapel (itself a monumental important program), to Janet who helps keep track of the weekly financials with Page as well as the prayer lists and flower dedications to Denise who chooses the music to fit the readings each week and writes her music notes, to Page and Kelly and Derek who draft it all together to myself choosing the artwork and the prayers, making sure the liturgical parts are appropriate to the season and the needs of the congregation, just to make that bulletin each week, post it to the website, get it printed, and then for Bill to use it to program our broadcasts, which also takes hours. And then our volunteer communications director adding in announcements from all over.
And that’s just the bulletin, folks. But naming this also reminds us of how we, as a flock, are interdependent upon one another—something Jesus himself reminded his followers of again and again and again. Because interdependence is not just a fact. It is a blessing, and we need to treat it that way.
And second, let’s talk about bleating—you know the constant noise from the sheep. Sheep do that to be able to locate each other—but they also need to use their magnificent ears, which are twice the size of their mouths, to listen. In applying that to our parish flocks, what would it be like if, before sending a critique or criticism (or worse, sniping behind the scenes), everyone would ask themselves first what they themselves have done to help bear the burden of the job being criticized, and if they have also been as eager to compliment as they are to complain to criticize.
And second, let’s talk about bleating—you know the constant noise from the sheep. Sheep do that to be able to locate each other—but they also need to use their magnificent ears, which are twice the size of their mouths, to listen. In applying that to our parish flocks, what would it be like if, before sending a critique or criticism (or worse, sniping behind the scenes), everyone would ask themselves first what they themselves have done to help bear the burden of the job being criticized, and if they have also been as eager to compliment as they are to complain to criticize.
You know, especially within a flock, if you are not part of the solution, you may be part of the problem. What would it be like if, before anyone said anything negative about a task or event, they would make sure they had said at least three praises first—or at least considered what it took to get that task done, however imperfectly?
The power of the gospel of Jesus is the power of relationship. That’s a power the world around us is starving for, in this fragmented, lonely society in which we live. It’s the power of the flock—the flock that is bound together by true love in action, true grace in action, true amiability in action.
God’s insistence on being associated with the concerned, caring shepherd who knows us intimately and loves us deeply is one that we need to hear and treasure no matter how many times we have heard those words in the 23rd Psalm or every year during the Great 50 Days of Easter. Notice, though, that God goes from being talked about in the third person to be addressed personally in the second parson a third of the way in. This is a personal relationship. But you’ll notice that the relationship isn’t just one way—it’s up to the sheep to follow the shepherd, not wander too far off, listen when he or she calls. Because when our Good Shepherd calls us, that’s the voice of love calling us—calling us, and urging us to always respond in kind.
And may this ever be our prayer:
O Lord, You are our shepherd;
help us to be better sheep.
When You give us green pastures,
help us to be grateful and not refuse to eat.
When You lead us beside still waters,
help us quiet our souls and be refreshed.
When our cups run over,
help us not to obsess about the mess
but shout for joy at the abundance
you give us always.
When You lead us to right pathways,
help us not to be hardheaded and go astray.
When we are in the darkest valley,
help us to remember that You are ALWAYS with us.
When you spread a table before us
in the presence of our enemies,
help us invite them to join us,
that their hearts may be turned by love.
Help us to stop bleating long enough
to hear Your voice calling us to You.
May we remember that your goodness and mercy
follow all of us all the days of our lives.
Amen.
Preached at the 10:30 am service on April 30, 2023 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.
Readings:
The power of the gospel of Jesus is the power of relationship. That’s a power the world around us is starving for, in this fragmented, lonely society in which we live. It’s the power of the flock—the flock that is bound together by true love in action, true grace in action, true amiability in action.
God’s insistence on being associated with the concerned, caring shepherd who knows us intimately and loves us deeply is one that we need to hear and treasure no matter how many times we have heard those words in the 23rd Psalm or every year during the Great 50 Days of Easter. Notice, though, that God goes from being talked about in the third person to be addressed personally in the second parson a third of the way in. This is a personal relationship. But you’ll notice that the relationship isn’t just one way—it’s up to the sheep to follow the shepherd, not wander too far off, listen when he or she calls. Because when our Good Shepherd calls us, that’s the voice of love calling us—calling us, and urging us to always respond in kind.
And may this ever be our prayer:
O Lord, You are our shepherd;
help us to be better sheep.
When You give us green pastures,
help us to be grateful and not refuse to eat.
When You lead us beside still waters,
help us quiet our souls and be refreshed.
When our cups run over,
help us not to obsess about the mess
but shout for joy at the abundance
you give us always.
When You lead us to right pathways,
help us not to be hardheaded and go astray.
When we are in the darkest valley,
help us to remember that You are ALWAYS with us.
When you spread a table before us
in the presence of our enemies,
help us invite them to join us,
that their hearts may be turned by love.
Help us to stop bleating long enough
to hear Your voice calling us to You.
May we remember that your goodness and mercy
follow all of us all the days of our lives.
Amen.
Preached at the 10:30 am service on April 30, 2023 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.
Readings:
Citations:
[1] See See B. Chessa, F. Pererra, et. al, "Revealing the History of Sheep Domestication Using Retrovirus Reintegration," in Science magazine, April 24, 2009, at https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3145132/
[1] See See B. Chessa, F. Pererra, et. al, "Revealing the History of Sheep Domestication Using Retrovirus Reintegration," in Science magazine, April 24, 2009, at https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3145132/
[2] See Orit Shamir, "Sha’atnez – The Biblical Prohibition Against Wearing Mixed Wool and Linen Together and the Observance and Enforcement of the Command in the Orthodox Jewish Communities Today," at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln Digital Commons Center for Textile Research, 2017, https://digitalcommons.unl.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1009&context=texterm#:~:text=Jewish%20law%20forbids%20sha%27atnez%20–%20wearing%20garments%20of%20mixed%20wool,of%20two%20kinds%20of%20material”.
[3] See Susan Schoenian, "Sheep Behavior" at Sheep 201, 2021 http://www.sheep101.info/201/behavior.html
[4] See Martin Wainwright, "Pennine spot where sheep won't be fenced in," at The Guardian UK, July 30, 2004, at https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2004/jul/30/sillyseason.ruralaffairs
[5] See Keith M. Kendrick, Ana P. da Costa, et. al., "Sheep Don't Forget a Face," in Nature magazine 08 November 2001, https://www.nature.com/articles/35102669
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