Truth In Shepherding

Just about everybody knows, I think, that one of the reasons God so often calls his people sheep and himself the shepherd is because sheep are so stupid. What I don’t think people realize is that sheep were also incredibly valuable.

Sheep were one of Israel’s most important economic resources. A rich man, especially in OT times, might be described as “the owner of 10,000 sheep.” And although they were mostly raised for wool, from which most of their garments were made, every part of the sheep was important. Sheep’s milk was made into cheese, and when one was killed for food, or for sacrifice, the horns would be used for for musical instruments; the ram’s horns became containers for oil or trumpets called “Shofars” to call people to worship, or to battle. The bones were made into buttons or needles or other small tools. The leather from the hides was made into everything from tents to live in to parchment to write on. Sheep were REALLY important. And not only were they valuable, they were also valued. Sheep were gentle, and loyal, and sometimes became household pets.

But just because sheep are valuable, that doesn’t make ‘em any less stupid. One of the big differences between sheep and goats is that goats can usually find their own food, but sheep have to be shown where the good stuff is. Goats are also much more sure-footed than sheep, and much less likely to follow the rest of the herd - whether into danger or out of it. Very independent thinkers, goats. Much less satisfactory as pets, too. They like their own way too much.

Has anyone here seen a movie called “Far From the Madding Crowd?” It’s an old one, starring Julie Christie and Alan Bates, from a novel by Thomas Hardy. Anyway, early on in the movie one of the shepherd’s dogs goes crazy and drives his sheep over a cliff. Once the first one went the rest didn’t even stop. Over they go, one at a time, smack down on the hard-packed sand below, and our hero, unable to catch them in time, watches in helpless dismay as his livelihood disappears. It reminds me a bit of the Heaven’s Gate cult suicide. . . when their habit of playing Follow-the-Leader turned deadly.

Sheep need leaders. Goats do not. Sometimes I think people are even dumber than sheep. D’you know why? Because people think they’re goats. We don’t even know we need leaders. I remember back in the hippie era how we all thought that we were such independent non-conformists. We all grew our hair long and wore the same clothes and sang the same songs and read the same books and I swear we all thought the same thoughts. And it’s just the same now, if not more so. Whether it’s torn jeans, green hair or a nose-ring, the rebellious ones band together and start to look and act alike. And pat themselves on the back for their non-conformity.

Sometimes I think that the more independent and progressive a thinker a person claims to be, the blinder they are. Because, you see, as long as we think we’re independent, we can’t evaluate whoever or whatever it is we’re depending on. We’re all dependent on something; the only question is, dependent on what? Independent of what? We’re all far more influenced by the people around us and the people who raised us than most of us realize... and none more so than the people who have rebelled against - rejected - what they grew up with.

My parents used to criticize Christians - particularly Catholics, as we spend several years in Catholic Latin America - for being sheep. Well, that may be so. . . but even worse than being a sheep is being a sheep who thinks he (or she!) is a goat. The dumbest kind of dumb is thinking you’re smart.

Another reason that I think people are even dumber than sheep is found in the book of Isaiah. Right at the beginning, it says straight out, “The ox knows his master, the donkey his owner’s manger, but Israel does not know, they do not understand.” [Is 1:3] Even the animals knew who took care of them, knew where there next meal was coming from, knew (if you’ll pardon the mixed metaphor) which side their bread was buttered on. And Israelite sheep, whatever their faults, did know their shepherd’s voice.

It was a lonely life, being a shepherd. Shepherds were solely responsible for their flocks; they protected the sheep from danger with a wooden staff or perhaps a slingshot. They made sure their animals got good food and clean water. They tended their wounds and went looking for them when they strayed. They didn’t use sheepdogs in those days, so shepherds used to spend their time talking to the sheep, maybe singing to them or playing a reed flute or, like David, a little harp that could be slung over their back. Wouldn’t it have been a treat being one of David’s sheep, listening to him make up those wonderful Psalms? I wonder how many more there were that never got written down... But with all that the sheep would get to know who they belonged to. That’s how the shepherds divided up their flocks after meeting at a waterhole. Of course the flocks would mingle. But when the shepherd called them, they would come. So maybe the sheep weren’t all that dumb after all.