The Master’s Voice - Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year A 2020

Readings: Acts 2:24a, 36-41; Psalm 23; 1 Peter 2:20b-25; John 10:1-10

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         Otis was a great dog. A 70-pound chocolate Labrador Retriever with a deep, serious bark, Otis cast a formidable figure, but underneath it all was a sweet, licky, kissy guy who wanted nothing more out of life than to be with his humans. He followed me everywhere; he glued himself to my side. If I dared drop a hand, he’d pick it up and hold it in his enormous mouth, periodically running his prehensile tongue through my palm and between my fingers just in case a treat might be hiding in there for him. For as mischievous as a lab can be, he always came when I called. He knew his master’s voice, he trusted me, and he followed me. That’s the kind of relationship I need to have with Jesus.

         Our readings today emphasize the shepherd/sheep metaphor we find throughout Scripture. Psalm 23, which we may well know by heart, tells us so beautifully that the Lord is our shepherd, there is nothing we shall want; he gives us rest in green pastures; he leads us on right paths; his rod and staff comfort us. Saint Peter confirms in our second reading that even when we go astray, Christ our shepherd is there to guard our souls when we return. And in our Gospel, Jesus teaches us to be like the sheep that know their shepherd’s voice, to follow him that we might have life more abundantly.

        Our great advances in science and technology have given us many choices, some might even say too many. We have hundreds of television channels and brands of bread and detergent, and with the internet, innumerable sources of information and entertainment. We’re presented with countless choices every day—some good, some not-so-good, and some downright bad. Unfortunately, there are a lot of golden-tongued wolves in sheep’s clothing out there willing to lead us down wrong paths for a few dollars. Even more unfortunately, too many of us follow. But fortunately, Jesus, the Good Shepherd is there for us, too, calling our names and leading us on right paths.

        We have to ask ourselves, then, will we recognize his voice when we’re called? Will we follow him? Sure, Jesus will be there to receive us down to the moment we enter the valley of the shadow of death, but how will we know that his is the voice to follow, if we don’t start now. Developing a personal, trusting, loving relationship with Jesus is a lifelong challenge. It’s like training for a marathon or learning to play the piano—it takes practice. Our readings tell us that practice starts today.

        As his eyesight dimmed and his hearing failed, Otis became weary and nervous about the world around him—but not when I was there. Though he could barely hear, he had grown so close to me over the years that he knew my scent, my touch, and my every gesture. Otis died this past Tuesday. As his life faded before my eyes, I put my face inches from his nose so he would know I was there. In his last act on this earth, he stuck out his soft, sweet tongue and kissed me. Otis knew his master— he trusted me, he found comfort with me, and yes, he loved me. That’s the kind of relationship I need to have with Jesus.