"He flees because he is a hireling and cares nothing for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me…’’John 10:13-14
Several years ago I got a call about this time of year from my brother-in-law, Sandy. He said ‘The ice is off the lake (he has a cottage on Kahshe Lake, right beside ours and always goes to check things out right after the ice is gone) He said ‘The ice has twisted your dock off its moorings. You need to go up and twist it back into shape before it floats away.’ A few days later a friend and I drove up there. Sure enough - the dock had been twisted off of its moorings and needed to be lifted back into place again. It meant that one of us had to get wet…one of us had to jump into the waist-deep icy waters and twist that dock back up on its supports while the other lifted the dry edge up and back into its place. My friend looked at me and said ‘I’d jump in but ownership has its privileges!’ I knew what he meant - it was my dock so the greater sacrifice was mine to take. I took the icy plunge and we quickly fixed the dock and I got out of there again.
Today’s Gospel lesson is about ownership. Jesus says: ‘I am the Good Shepherd’. Then he goes on to define what makes him good: ‘the good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.’ There is a willingness to make sacrifices for the sheep – that’s what makes the shepherd good. Jesus says the good shepherd is willing to lay down his life for the sheep. Now this is not the case with the hired hand - the hired hand is there because he’s paid to be - the sheep are just a source of income for him - he’s not invested like the one who bought, bred, doctored, fed and protected the sheep. It’s a different sort of relationship.
Jesus is touching on the heart of ownership here. We tend to think of ownership as having legal title, of being in possession of something…but at its heart, ownership is about a special relationship. The Good Shepherd has a special relationship with these sheep …there is a fidelity and loyalty here. When sheep get lost, that shepherd goes and searches for them …high and low, day and night, through wind, rain and snow until he finds the lost sheep. When wolves attack the sheep the good shepherd defends his flock from the pack. When they are hungry or thirsty he will lead them to green pastures and still waters.
Jesus says ‘I am the good shepherd.’ He is comparing his fidelity for us, his followers, to that of a good shepherd for the sheep. It’s a good analogy, especially apt for the day because there were plenty of sheep and shepherd around Israel then. Today however, most of us don’t have much first hand knowledge of sheep and shepherds… but we can still understand it because we know something of the fidelity of owning a family pet.
Growing up, our family always owned cats, but Sue’s family always owned dogs. So when we got married it wasn’t too long till Sue was wanting us to get a dog. I was not in favor - dogs are more work - you have to walk a dog, you have to clean up after a dog, they dig up your backyard and you can’t leave them for even a weekend if you go away. I didn’t think a dog was a good idea
I seemed to be winning the argument on dogs in that first year of marriage, but then it happened... It was in the middle of the winter in Saskatchewan and we were having a party for all the ministers in the Presbytery at our place. Sue heard a scratch at the door. She thought it was one of the ministers playing a joke on us, so she went and opened the door and in pounced this little puppy. He was cold cause it was -30 degrees outside. It was very friendly and Sue fell in love with him immediately. I kept saying to her ‘Don’t get attached to that dog – it belongs to somebody and they’re going to want it back.’ But three, four, five days went by and nobody came.
Finally on the sixth day I came home at lunch hour and Sue was in tears. The owner of the puppy had come. Through tears she told me the whole story: The dog had been given to neighbors of our by relatives who lived about 40 miles away. When they delivered the dog, nobody was home so they just tied it up on the front porch and left – expecting the family would come home soon and find it. Well, they didn’t get home till very late that night, In the meantime, the dog got cold, broke loose from his rope and came over to our place. While Sue was telling me the story she got a phone call from the people who owned the dog. The dog had knocked over their little toddler and made him cry and they decided maybe a puppy wasn’t such a good idea after all. They wondered if she’d like to keep the dog. She bounded out the door and retrieved the dog in minutes. So within the span of a half hour our home went from the saddest house in town to the happiest house in town.
It was Sue’s dog. That’s what I always told people. After all, she was the one who wanted a dog, she had more time to spend time with it and she gave it its name - Duffy. Duffy was more human than dog - we even called her ‘our firstborn’ in some of our Christmas newsletters. But after David came along, our firstborn was demoted to canine again and Sue spent less time with Duffy and more with David. Duffy started to become my responsibility. I taught her to play catch with a frizbeee – and a bunch of other cool dog tricks.
We moved to Palmerston, Ontario to a new church and the same day we were moving in a man came to the door and said: “I hear you have a dog, I’d like to walk your dog’. I wasn’t there at the time so heard about it later from my mother-in-law who thought he might be a professional dog walker trying to drum up business. I was pretty sure there were none of those in Palmerston. It turned out he was our neighbor and had just lost his dog. He was looking for canine companionship each day. So Duffy and Ken became fast friends…Ken took Duffy all over town each day - into the bank, the insurance office, the post office, even into the funeral home! Duffy knew more people than I did in town! I was in the bank one morning and noticed Ken in the bank, but no sign of Duffy. I said to him ‘Hey Ken, where’s Duffy?’ He said in a big voice ‘She’s in the vault making a deposit!’ Everyone laughed. And in fact, she was back behind the counter at the desk of one of the emploees - she gave Duffy a treat each time she came in.
Ken and Duffy were friends…but Ken wasn’t Duffy’s owner. I found out one day. In the middle of the day the police knocked on our door - they’d received a complaint about Duffy. What happened? The officer told us that Duffy was seen in someone’s back yard and had killed several of their pet rabbits. I couldn’t believe it…we never let Duffy run! I went over to visit the person who had made complaint and sure enough they had a big rabbit cage in their back yard…no rabbits. The man of the house told me that he’d chased Duffy away from the rabbits on more than one occasion. This time he was too late…Duffy had run round and round their cage, barking at the rabbits, and the rabbits scurried and scurried until they all fell over dead from fear, exhaustion or both. I didn’t know what to do - offered to make restitution but he didn’t want any more rabbit so I tucked my tail between my legs and went home. I learned later that Ken never tied up Duffy when he was outside working on his garden…and sometimes she’d run off on her own. I told him what happened and we agreed that the dog couldn’t run anymore.
Duffy only had a run-in with one other animal that I know about …a porcupine. Duffy took on a porcupine up at the cottage one fall while we were closing up - she came away from that encounter full of quills…they were in her mouth, in her neck and all through her chest. We was no vet nearby and it was a holiday weekend and she was a mess. I had to try to get the quills out myself. I spent the next half hour in the back room with her using a pair of pliers to pull them out. I must have pulled out 15-20 quills and the more I pulled the more I found in her thick fur. Each time I pulled one out she would yelp…but never once growled at me or snarled or tried to bite my hand. She knew she could trust me - in spite of the pain I was trying to help her. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and gave up. We took her to the vet when we got home…several times. It took more than a year and a couple operations to rid her of those quills.
In the end it may have been porcupine quills that finally killed Duffy. One morning we noticed Duffy was having trouble walking. She couldn’t put weight on her front paws. At first we though she had injured a leg and just needed to rest for a day or two. She only grew worse so we took her to the vet. The vet couldn’t find anything physically wrong with her legs, and thought it was either cancer or the return of thsse elusive porcupine quills. Either way it wasn’t good news. The vet suggested it might be time to have Duffy put to sleep. Well, Sue and I weren’t ready for that – we took her home and waited almost a week hoping Duffy might rally. But after a week of carrying her outside to do her business and carrying her back in, it was clear that this was no life for a dog.
It was a Thursday when I woke up and decided this was the day. I called the vet and booked an appointment in the mid afternoon while the kids were all still in school. Since we were going to burry her ourselves, the vet asked me to bring a cardboard box to put Duffy in. I stopped by the grocery store and got a box from then went home to get Duffy. I carried her into the car and into the vet’s office. Duffy didn’t like the vet’s office…especially being up on that steel table, but she did it for me and I was right there with her. The vet asked me if I wanted to stay or leave. I elected to stay. She explained that she’d would put the needle into a vein in her front leg and within a minute she’d be gone. The vet had trouble finding the vein - Duffy was being very patient with her but it took a number of jabs to get it. Finally she got the vein and injected the needle and Duffy lay her head down in my hands and drifted off.
Big crocodile tears rolled down my cheeks … and it surprised me. It was then I realized that Duffy was my dog… than I had ever really ever admitted. Ownership is about a special relationship… I had taught her tricks, I had bailed her out when she killed the rabbits, I pulled out her porcupine quills, and I was there for the difficult task of putting her down. Duffy was my dog. The vet excused herself and busied herself in the office for 5 minutes till I was composed again. When she came back she said I could come back in a day or two and collect the body for burial. She handed me an envelope – I thought it was the bill but when I got home and opened it up it was a poem: It’s kind of a Psalm 23 for a dog owner:
A Dog’s Plea
Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the
world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.
Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should
lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding
will more quickly teach me the things your would have me learn.
Speak to me often, for your voice is the world’s sweetest
music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your
footstep falls upon my waiting ear.
Please take me inside when it is cold and wet, for I am a
domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to bitter elements.
I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet
beside the hearth.
Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I cannot tell you
when I suffer thirst.
Feed me clean food that I may stay well, to romp and play
and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing
and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.
And, my friend, when I am very old, and I no longer enjoy
good health, hearing and sight, do not make heroic efforts to keep
me going. I am not having any fun. Please see that my trusting life
is taken gently. I shall leave this earth knowing with the last breath
I draw that my fate was always safest in your hands.
Friday was funeral day for Duffy. I took her up to Ken Henderson’s brother’s farm where she’d be buried. It was a cold gray day - perfect day for a burial I thought. A pastor friend of mine, John Benham came along for moral support. We joked that Duffy took two pastors and a funeral director to burry! We laid her in the ground beside Ken’s former dog and then he invited us back to his house for a funeral reception… salmon sandwiches and tea.
The good shepherd is good says Jesus, because of a special relationship with the flock …knows them by name, looks out for their wellbeing, and makes sacrifices for their sake. And sometimes we refer to the pastor of the church as a shepherd…and today we have a new shepherd in our midst. Eleanor Norman will help tend this flock and that’s good because I need al the help I can get with the unruly bunch! But seriously, my prayer for you Eleanor, is that this won’t just be a job but the beginning of a wonderful relationship …where there is fidelity, and loyalty and nutal love.
My hometown pastor once shared a story that taught him a valuable lesson about being a pastor. His first congregation was a summer appointment while he was still in seminary…a small rural congregation that in his mind was less than perfect. They had faults and shortcomings and they got under his skin because he could see them so plainly. He thought he should point them out to them so they could straighten up and become a better congregation. So on his last Sunday with them he decided to preach a sermon that laid it all out for them… listed all the things that were wrong with this congregation and what they needed to be better. He gave them both barrels… and after the smoked cleared, he gave the benediction and walked to the back and shook their hands as they left the church. They were all very kind… ‘nice sermon today pastor’, ‘good to have you with us this summer’, ‘lovely weather we’re having’. The last person to greet him was the organist…she had lingered to speak with him in private that day. She shook his hand and said ‘Well John, you have us down. You know all the shortcomings and faults of this congregation after just one summer with us…but we need to know that you love us first.’
The difference between the shepherd and the hired hand is love. Jesus is the good shepherd who loves the flock so much that he’s willing to lay down his life for us. In fact he did. And when we understand the depths of our Lord’s love, then we are able to love in return…and to follow him faithfully.
Amen