Our Good Shepherd

Ah, to be a lamb on the shoulders of that good shepherd!

I remember one Christmas my home parish had a live Nativity, and my dad and I were both shepherds.  I looked quite the sight with my huge blue-rimmed glasses under that headpiece.  But I digress.  We stood outside the church before the evening Mass and sang carols first, and then we came into the church for the homily.  We really went all out, too; we hired a petting zoo and recruited a family with a newborn to play the holy family.  There was even a little lamb.  Or maybe it was a small goat.  Well, either way, when it came time for us to enter the church during the homily, my dad thought it would be sweet to pick up this little goat and carry it on his shoulders.  The goat had other ideas.  As soon as he got up on my dad's shoulders, he began to kick as hard as he could to get down.  Luckily, my dad's lightning-quick reflexes caught those little hooves before they smashed his face in, but both shepherd and sheep were quite flustered as they walked down the aisle that night.  

So, why do I tell this little story?  I guess because it's always what I think of when I see pictures like the one above of our Good Shepherd.  It never made sense to me that any animal would just allow itself to be carried like that.  Even the tame petting zoo goat wouldn't do it, and he had probably been sat on and had his tail pulled and all other manner of unpleasantries.  Yes, I think I just made that word up...

But I heard a rumor lately about ancient shepherding techniques.  According to this rumor, if a shepherd was carrying a lamb like this, it was because its legs were broken.  Apparently, if a lamb kept straying from the flock (thus leading others astray: sheep are stupid creatures), then the shepherd had two choices.  He could either kill the wandering lamb or break its legs and immediately set the bone.  While the legs healed, he would carry the lamb and hand-feed it until it was able to walk again.  During this period, the lamb would not only learn that straying was bad from the leg-breaking, but it would also bond with its shepherd so much during the weeks that followed that by the time it was better, it wouldn't even want to stray again. 

Now, I'm not sure of the validity of this story, and it's certainly not in scripture anywhere, but it is an interesting metaphor.  I know it's true that sometimes Christ needs to break us down in order to build us up.   Although He will willingly come to save us from the wilderness after we've strayed again and again, sometimes our deep-set complacency requires more than that.  Sometimes we need to go through crisis in order to find Him again.  Sometimes it's only when all that is comforting to us is stripped away that we can truly see the huge lack in our hearts.

So Lord... break my legs and hoist me up onto your shoulders.  Feed me from Your precious hands and care for me.  Let me be completely dependent on you for everything, even movement, for I do not trust myself not to stray from You.