Feeding sheep 101

A Reflection for Friday of the Seventh Week of Easter

Find today’s readings here.

I will always remember my day driving the Dingle Peninsula as one of the most awe-inspiring of my life.

My now-husband and I visited Ireland for the first time a couple years ago, and a friend told us we had to visit Dingle and see the Kerry coastline. We maneuvered it into our travel itinerary and didn’t arrive with too many expectations. What I remember most is the sound of both of us taking in the scenery, saying nothing but one same word over and over: “Wow.”

Put simply, the views were gorgeous. (And that doesn’t come close to doing them justice.) When we stopped in town, people were friendly. And when we passed a colorfully painted sign on the side of the road that invited us to feed some grazing lambs, my travel partner pulled over.

“What are we doing?” I asked hesitantly. (I like to stick to the plan. Usually, so does he.)

“Come on,” he said. “We’re feeding some sheep.”

Now, I’ve never been known to be much of an outdoorsy girl. My East Coast sensibilities are a bit out of place on a farm. But the sign said to feed the sheep, and feed the sheep we did.

They were gentle, sweet, hungry creatures. They were social with each other and cautiously so with us. In ways that surprised me, they were expressive, and it didn’t take long to get a good sense of their nature.

Ever since I spent that afternoon with them, I have responded a bit differently to the Gospel’s affinity for sheep metaphors. They now feel less symbolic and more specific. When we as God’s people are compared to sheep, I see those characteristics I saw that day in us—reminding me that we humans, too, can be simple yet ravenous, and we can stick with the herd.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves him. Each time, Peter responds that he does, and each time, he becomes more and more distressed that Jesus would even need to ask. Jesus, three times over, tells Peter that if he loves him (and wants to demonstrate that he does) he ought to feed his sheep.

The end of the Gospel reading then seems to take a turn. Jesus says:

Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger,
you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; 
but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands,
and someone else will dress you
and lead you where you do not want to go.”
He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God.
And when he had said this, he said to him, “Follow me.”

There’s a lot in here about the kind of death Christ will have—and in turn the kind of death that Peter and all Christians are called to. But what does it have to do with the previous dogged focus on feeding sheep?

When Jesus asks Peter to take up his mantle and tend the flock, we understand that he’s imparting a message of responsibility. He’s also, though, encouraging a necessary attitude of surrender—in the moment of death and in the care that comes before. As God’s people, we are called to feed sheep and also to be sheep. In a system of responsibility for others, we’re also asked to surrender ourselves when others take up the responsibility to care for us.

I’m still no expert in feeding sheep—in the literal or metaphorical sense. But a spontaneous afternoon taught me that stepping out of the comfort zone is part of the game. In noticing and responding, we open ourselves up to the experiences of caring for others’ needs, and we prepare ourselves also to express our own needs and to accept care.

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