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John 10:1-21
In the distance a little old lady appeared. Her gray hair was blowing in the wind and her clothes were dirty and ragged. She was muttering something to herself as she picked up things from the beach and put them into a bag. Noticing this strange behavior, the parents of three small children who were enjoying the ocean and making castles in the sand called them to their side. "Stay away from the old woman," they warned them. As she passed by, bending down every now and then to pick things up, she smiled at the family. But her greeting wasn't returned. Many weeks later they learned that the little old lady had made it her lifelong crusade to pick up bits of glass from the beach so children wouldn't cut their feet.
A thankless task. Picking up bits of glass so children won't cut their feet. There are lots of people in thankless jobs. Being a caregiver to someone who is helpless, working in nursing homes. In a sense, teaching is a thankless task. So is being a police officer. Any type of service work is thankless at times. Any job where there isn't much recognition or people are taken for granted can seem like a thankless job.
Being a shepherd is a thankless job. Imagine dealing with sheep all day. In Palestine, flocks of sheep are everywhere. They dot the countryside, clutter up highways, crowd the streets of towns and villages. The shepherd with his long staff walks in front of his flock and his sheep follow him. In fact, they crowd around so closely they hamper the shepherd's movement. The life of a shepherd was extremely hard. The shepherd was never off duty. With little grass around, the sheep were bound to wander, and since there were no protective walls, they had constantly to be watched. On either side of the narrow plateau, the ground dipped sharply down to the craggy deserts and the sheep were liable to stray away and get lost. The shepherd's task wasn't only constant but dangerous. He had to guard the flock against wild animals, especially against wolves, and there were always thieves and robbers ready to steal the sheep. With little pay and little human contact, being a shepherd had little to recommend it. Yet this is exactly how Christ portrayed himself, as a shepherd.
Of course, there is a certain bonding that takes place between the shepherd and his sheep. Jesus put it this way: "The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out" (John 10:3). Sheep-calling contests are common in Palestine. Several flocks are placed in an enclosure and mixed. Then shepherds whistle a distinctive tune, some call or shout in a peculiar manner. Some shepherds use a pipe with a particular pitch. Each shepherd's signal is understood by his own sheep, and they respond immediately. They make their way through the crowded enclosure to where their shepherd is waiting. The shepherd who collects a given number of sheep in the shortest time is the winner of the contest. Sheep know their shepherd's voice and follow him.
As the Good Shepherd, Christ takes over the thankless job of watching over his sheep, taking the trouble to know them by name. There have always been people with a good memory for names. Napoleon knew thousands of his soldiers by name. James Farley claimed he knew 50,000 people by their first name. Charles Schwab knew the names of all 8,000 of his employees at Homestead Mill. During his forty years as president of Harvard, Charles Eliot earned the reputation of knowing all the students by name each year. Harry Lorayne used to amaze his audiences by being introduced to hundreds of people, one after another, then giving the name of any person who stood up and requested it. But can you imagine Christ knowing all his sheep by name? That's millions and millions of people over 2,000 years. No wonder we call him Master, Lord, Savior. He watches over his flock, and calls each of us by name, to follow his example.
Sarah responded to that call. In his book Finding God At Home, Ernest Boyer, Jr. tells of a woman named Sarah who lived a humble life, yet she lived it with such purpose that she influenced everyone around her. Sarah was born in 1906, the last of eight children. Her father was a miner, and her mother ran a boarding house for miners.
Sarah grew up working at the boardinghouse and playing with her brothers and sisters. At eighteen, she married a man from Italy. She had only met him three times before, but his family knew her family back in the Old Country, so it was considered the proper thing to do. Sarah and her husband moved to the city, where he opened a barbershop, and they started a family. First a son was born, then a daughter. But something was different with their third child, also a son. He was soon diagnosed as having muscular dystrophy, a horrible disease that would destroy his muscles and render him unable to care for himself in the smallest way. Doctors predicted he would die before his fifth birthday. This was during the Depression when there was barely enough money for the necessities of life. Their third child would need extensive medical care for his condition. So, Sarah went to work. She took on many odd jobs, such as cleaning houses, baking bread, and taking in laundry. And every morning Sarah went to Mass and prayed for her children, especially for her son. Years passed, and the boy outlived his fifth birthday, and his sixth, and his seventh. Sarah did whatever she could do to care for her afflicted child. She even wrote to President Roosevelt, hoping his own infirmities would give him compassion for others who were suffering. The President arranged for the boy to be sent to a prestigious clinic in Maryland. Sarah took her son to this clinic, where the astonished doctors told her the boy's continued survival and slow disease progression were nothing short of a miracle. Sarah's loving care was keeping her son alive and in fair condition. The doctors suggested Sarah take him home and continue to care for him in the way she already had, for that seemed to work some kind of magic the doctors couldn't match.
At the age of fourteen, Sarah's son died. Sarah's husband took to his bed with grief and died six months later. In addition to her regular jobs, Sarah began taking classes at beauty school, and eventually turned her husband's barbershop into a beauty shop. In this way, she supported her children. But something kept nagging at Sarah. Throughout the years of her son's illness, Sarah had spent much time in hospital wards, and she was aware there were many suffering children in these wards who had no one to visit them. So, Sarah began visiting the children's wards of the local hospitals to talk to the children and let them know she cared. But the hospital had a strict policy of only allowing family members to visit, so Sarah's visits stopped. When Sarah protested that many of these children didn't have family, she was told many of these children weren't used to that kind of caring, and if they got out of the hospital, they wouldn't know what to do when they no longer received it. Sarah left the hospital and sat down on a park bench. And there she cried and cried. And then Sarah resolved to do something to show love and care to children who had no one else to love them. So, Sarah became a foster mother, and her house became a home to many young girls who needed her.
Sarah's life followed a simple routine. Every morning she went to early Mass, then came home and cooked breakfast for her foster children. Next, she worked at her beauty parlor, then she went home and baked bread. Her bread was Sarah's gift to the world around her. She never baked it for herself. Instead, she gave away her bread to churches, soup kitchens, family, friends, neighbors in need. One day, Sarah got a call from one of her granddaughters asking her to go to afternoon Mass with her. When Sarah showed up at the church that afternoon, she saw her whole family waiting for her. They led her into the church. It was filled with Sarah's family, friends, neighbors, and former and current foster children. Some people had traveled hours to get there, and some were friends Sarah hadn't seen in years. And when Sarah entered the church, they all stood and clapped. As Sarah stood there crying tears of humble joy, her youngest great-grandchild walked up and presented her with a bouquet of flowers. "Here Great grandma. These are yours." Sarah walked to the front of the church and gently placed the flowers in front of a statue of Mary with the baby Jesus. And she said softly, "Here. These are yours." Christ set the example. He is the Good Shepherd. He watches over his sheep. He knows each of us by name. He even laid down his life on our behalf. Now he calls us to take up the often-thankless job of laying down our lives for others, with no other reward than this. Someday to hear his voice say: "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." Are you up to it? Do you have what it takes to give your life in service to those around you? We serve others even as he serves us.
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Rev. Charles Eldredge is a member of Maitland Church of the Brethren. He has a Facebook page and can be contacted by email: ce1133 @verizon.net.