Shepherds, sheep, the valley of death and the journey to normality .......

This spring is well under way,  with clement weather, possibly linked to the reduction in car and aeroplane journeys in response to the virus, ensuring that lambing is going well.

There is no sight better to make spring seem real, alive and verdant than to sees lambs in the fields, chasing each other with their hopping, skipping leaps, then returning to their mothers to suckle.

It is Arcadian. It is a pastoral scene that has inspired poets for centuries: This is The Lamb by William Blake.

Little Lamb who made thee 

         Dost thou know who made thee 

Gave thee life & bid thee feed. 

By the stream & o'er the mead; 

Gave thee clothing of delight, 

Softest clothing wooly bright; 

Gave thee such a tender voice, 

Making all the vales rejoice! 

         Little Lamb who made thee 

         Dost thou know who made thee 

         Little Lamb I'll tell thee, 

         Little Lamb I'll tell thee!

He is called by thy name, 

For he calls himself a Lamb: 

He is meek & he is mild, 

He became a little child: 

I a child & thou a lamb, 

We are called by his name. 

         Little Lamb God bless thee. 

         Little Lamb God bless thee

Its is also a poem inspired by our biblical understanding of Jesus and his relationship with God his Father.

In our Gospel for this Sunday Jesus identifies himself with the Good Shepherd, a shepherd who is prepared to lay down his life for the sheep committed to his care. 

I recall on one occasion when I was travelling through the most rural part of my parish in Cumbria taking communion to an elderly parishioner when I met another of my parishioners, a farmer, in the Cumbrian way we stopped me in my car with the window down, he on his 4x4 with his cap pulled down. We talked about parish matters, about family matters, about lambing, until he observed that he must be on his way to, 'feed my sheep'.

My response, Yes, I must feed mine too.

The reference to the Good Shepherd is reinforced by the Psalm set for this Sunday, the 23rd Psalm. On the cross Jesus quotes the 22nd Psalm, My God, My God, why have you forsaken me? Psalm 22 is a lament, which finds its response in the positive notes of the 23rd psalm.

I had a Chaplaincy post in Fuengirola in southern Spain, I lived in a small town, Alheurin al Grande, part of the Muslim legacy of that part of Spain, meaning the Garden of God.

I was driving to an appointment when, in the centre of the town, the traffic was stopped whilst a shepherd led his flock through the town centre, through the heart of the Garden of God.

The sheep were fine, they didn't need a thing as they grazed on the grassy edges of the pavements, gently the shepherd guided them in the right direction so that there was no risk, no danger and they would in due course find their way back to the sheepfold as the shepherd walked side by side with them.

Jesus promise, expressed through John's Gospel which we read this Sunday:

'So again Jesus said to them, "Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8 All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. 9 I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. 10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly".

There is a poignant reading of this Gospel and the 23rd Psalm in these tragic days of lockdown, of risk, in which the human costs of the virus are extremely high.

We are quite literally walking through Death Valley, it is not possible to step outside the house, to receive a parcel at the door, to interact with others, to stand in a queue for the supermarket, without experiencing concern for your own personal well being, hand washing, hand sanitising, even washing and sanitising goods that you have purchased or which have been delivered and left on your doorstep.

At a time when for the majority of our Christian family, in both congregation, Parish and Diocese are experiencing what the Bishop has described as: 'a eucharistic fast in solidarity with those who are unable to receive at this time.  Whilst we cannot share the body and blood of Christ at this time, we can be deeply fed by prayer and meditation, not least in seeking to align our minds and desires with the mind and desire of God'.

Much good work is being done by people across the parish seeking to bring help and comfort where it is desperately needed, yet we also need rest and refreshment, we need companions on the journey we are called to make, we need patience and we need to be kind to ourselves.

It is I think a source of prayerful comfort to read Jesus' promise in the Gospel that he is the Shepherd who will care for us and ensure that we will have life and have it abundantly. 

I posted a copy of an ancient MSS of the 23rd Psalm, together with a modern version, on Facebook recently and was surprised when it was the only one of my posts that received criticism, but maybe I was unintentionally emphasising the strain that the virus is imposing on people and their lives by contrasting the vision of lush meadows, quiet pools, fresh water, with the stress of lockdown and with little chance of it being lifted soon.

But both Jesus the Good Shepherd and David the Psalmist assure us that we will, like the sheep in Alheurin, be led in the right direction, we will be made secure in the company of the Good Shepherd, we will be fed in front of our enemies, our drooping heads will be revived, our cups will be filled to overflowing and beauty and goodness will return to fill our lives