The Death of the Good Shepherd

Searching for him in an unlikely place

The sheep drew me. Having noticed the stone lambs adorning gravestones in this cemetery recently while walking past, I have returned with the purpose of finding more references to this analogy of the flock. And if possible, to the Shepherd.

For this analogy has been alive in my mind for some weeks. During my study of John 10, I found a reference in the commentary to Kenneth Bailey’s excellent book, The Good Shepherd, which I then read with delight, marveling at Jesus’s use of the metaphor – not only understanding its long Biblical tradition, but personally stepping into it.

Why these sheep? As I wander and photograph them, I quickly find that they’re adorning the graves of children. What a poignant image. And yet, the peaceful repose of the lambs invites me to consider (and remember) the searing pain of losing a child. Nothing in this world points more emphatically to the wrongness of the death that sin released.

This is the first real connection I have in this somber place to the Savior.

For Jesus makes it clear in John 10 that in his fulfillment of God’s promise to shepherd Israel (Ps. 23, Jer. 23, Ezek. 34, Zech. 10), that he will die in the process. The false shepherds, the hired hands, run away at the sight of a wolf, allowing it to tear apart the flock.

But the Good Shepherd takes the flock out to distant pastures knowing full well that the wolf will come. He knows he will do battle with it. And for the sake of his sheep, he’ll let the wolf tear into him. But Jesus also planned – oh the wonder of it! – to not only die, but rise again:

“I lay down my life—only to take it up again.  No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again.”  John 10: 17-18

Death and resurrection. Packed into this simple analogy.

The wolf, says Bailey, “in some profound sense… must represent the agent of death.” Jesus died to defeat death and rescue his flock. But that death was an act of his ultimate power. His life wasn’t taken – he gave it. Then he took it back.

I amble for a time, trying to find more visual support for The Good Shepherd. There is a surprising dearth of any reference to Jesus, sadly. Finally, I turn toward the huge mausoleum that dominates the cemetery. Might there be some visual in there?

At the locked doors, I peer through the bars and am stunned to find this stained-glass window.

Just what I was looking for! And yet, thinking about Jesus’s words, somehow this image of the gentle shepherd feels incomplete.

There should be, in the background, an empty tomb.

And at his feet, the lifeless body of the wolf.

Jesus, we are all sheep, prone to wander, prone to leave the shepherd we love. You could have left us to the bared teeth of the wolf and no one could have called you unjust. But instead, in your great power, you submitted yourself to the death we deserved, then took your life up again. Our hearts are filled with wonder at your love.

Reader: What aspect of the analogy of the Good Shepherd speaks to you? I’d love to hear about it if you have the time.