My Dear Friends!
The Lord is Risen.
He is Risen Indeed.
Alleluia!
Yes! Our Easter journey continues and every year on the 4th Sunday of Easter — which is also known as Good Shepherd Sunday — we hear that familiar image:
Jesus is the shepherd… and we are the sheep.
And let’s be honest — sheep are not exactly impressive creatures.
They wander off for no good reason.
They get themselves stuck in places they shouldn’t be.
They’ll drink from dirty water if no one’s watching.
And apparently, if they fall over the wrong way… they can’t even get back up on their own.
And if that weren’t enough… they can also be pretty stubborn.
They resist being led.
They push in their own direction.
They get set in their ways and don’t easily budge — even when it’s not good for them.
Not exactly a glowing comparison.
And yet… maybe that’s precisely why Jesus uses it.
Because the point isn’t to put us down — it’s to tell the truth about being human.
We wander.
We lose focus.
We go looking for life in places that don’t actually give it.
We get ourselves stuck sometimes — spiritually, emotionally, even physically — and we’re not always able to pull ourselves out.
And yes… sometimes we’re stubborn too.
We hold on to our way of seeing things.
We resist change.
We cling to what’s familiar — even when it’s not leading us toward life.
And if we’re really honest, there are moments when we don’t even realize we’re lost until we’ve gone pretty far.
Sound familiar?
And still…
“The sheep hear his voice. He calls his own by name… and they follow him.” (John 10)
That’s the heart of it.
Not that we have everything together —
but that we are known.
Not that we never get lost —
but that we are always being called.
The Good Shepherd doesn’t roll his eyes at the sheep.
He doesn’t give up on them when they wander — or when they resist.
He doesn’t walk away when they make the same mistake again.
He stays.
He searches.
He lifts.
He leads.
Patiently.
Faithfully.
Without giving up.
He knows exactly who we are — wandering, stuck, sometimes stubborn…
and he stays anyway.
And over time, something begins to shift — not because the sheep suddenly become smarter or less stubborn, but because they begin to recognize the shepherd’s voice.
A voice that doesn’t shame.
A voice that doesn’t force.
A voice that doesn’t condemn or keep score.
But a voice that calls us back — again and again.
A voice that meets us where we are, not where we think we should be.
A voice that steadies us when we’re overwhelmed, and gently redirects us when we’ve gone off course.
A voice that reminds us: you’re not alone… you’re still mine… come back.
Not louder than everything else.
But steady.
Faithful.
Present.
In the middle of our noise, our distractions, our worries, our routines —
that voice is still there.
Calling.
Guiding.
Loving.
Leading us, little by little, back toward life.
So maybe the invitation this Sunday isn’t to try harder or be better.
Maybe it’s simply this:
To pause long enough to listen.
To notice what voice we’ve been following.
And to gently ask ourselves…
What voices am I listening to right now?
Which ones are leading me toward life… and which ones are not?
And when have I heard that quieter, truer voice calling me by name?
Love, Peace, and Blessings,
Father Jerry