One of the ways we know people, really know people, is by the sound of their voice. There is something uniquely powerful about voices we have known for years. Babies hear their mother’s voice in utero, before they ever see her face. For most of us it is harder to change or disguise our voice than it is to change our appearance. If you have ever gone weeks or months separated from a loved one, you know that that first vocal connection over a phone line can be overwhelmingly poignant.
Some of you might remember that earlier this year we lost one of our dogs to a sudden illness and now our other dog, Abbey, is going deaf. We figured out that she was losing her hearing when she became less and less responsive to our voices. Like most dogs, Abbey had always been very attuned to each of our voices, and to the tone of voice we use when we talk to her. Now, I don’t know whether Abbey minds her hearing loss, but I do know it makes us sad, because it makes it harder to communicate with her.
As old as she is, she spends a lot of time sleeping on the staircase landing between the two stories of our home and so now every day when I’m going up or down the stairs I find I have to work really hard not to startle her. She doesn’t hear me coming until I’m practically stepping over her, and then she freaks out a little that I’m suddenly just right there, out of nowhere. I hate upsetting her like that! So, we are learning to find other ways to signal to her when we’re getting close, like catching her eye before we touch her. But I worry about how to comfort her when I can’t use the tone of my voice to convey what I’m feeling.
In ancient Israel, sheep were definitely not viewed as pets, but rather as an essential part of the economy. A shepherd relied on the health of his sheep for his own survival and that of his extended household. That does not mean, though, that the relationship had to be purely transactional. Good shepherds really do care for and tend to their sheep, often spending more time around them than they do other people. Sheep definitely know their shepherd’s voice and a good shepherd knows each of his sheep—by personality at least, if not by name. It is no surprise, then, that the image of a good shepherd became so closely associated with kings and even with God in ancient Israel. That combination of a trustworthy guide and someone who cares for us deeply is what we want most in a leader.
As I’ve pondered these readings for today, readings that are all about God and community, about where we place our trust and where we find our hope, I’ve thought about how we decide which voices to listen to and which ones to ignore or reject. Right now, in this time of Zoom calls and phone calls and constant online communication, of podcasts and audiobooks and the 24-hour news cycle, I feel inundated by voices. It’s hard to create enough silence and space in my psyche for really thinking through things. How do any of us decide which voices to listen to when everyone seems to be an expert, a guru, or a guide? It’s a matter of discernment, right? It’s a matter of finding the voices that speak clearly to our best desires and highest aspirations.
I think it’s safe to say that you can tell a lot about whether or not someone is a good shepherd by seeing where they lead their flock. Nobody on this side of heaven can guarantee a life of cool valleys and green pastures all the time. But there are people who know how to walk with us even when the path gets rocky and steep. After Jesus died, those people who were still following him were clearly being led into lives of goodness and generosity. They were, as the writer of Acts tells us, devoted to learning and “fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” There must have been so many voices telling them that they were crazy to live this way, that their leader was dead and gone and it was time to move on to other things. But they knew that they still heard that voice, that voice that told stories, and quoted Scripture, and spoke words of healing, that voice telling them that they were created for joyful and abundant lives.
Earlier this year I went to the Bishop’s Ranch in Sonoma County for our Vestry Retreat. One morning I went out for what was supposed to be a 15-minute walk on the trail through the hills. You can probably guess where this is going: I got lost. Really. Now when I say I have no sense of direction, I mean I have NO sense of direction at all. None. And it took me almost an hour of walking before I realized how lost I really was. Like a big dummy I had no water and no food with me, but at least I did have my phone. I found a trail that led up to the top of a hill so that I could get cell service, and I started calling people. Your very own junior and senior wardens, being excellent people, set out to find me, although of course I couldn’t really explain exactly where I was, because I was…lost. To make a long story short, the first time I knew that everything was going to be okay was when I heard someone calling my name through the woods. I couldn’t see anyone, I wasn’t sure exactly where they were, but I could hear a voice, a voice I knew, calling for me. I felt so thrilled, so delighted, that I went running down the hill like a little kid. It still took a while before my rescue team actually found me, but my heart was so buoyed by that experience, by just hearing the sound of my name—I’ll never forget what a lovely moment that was, how comforting and encouraging. It made my heart swell in an instant.
The reason it is so critically important for sheep to recognize and respond to their shepherd’s voice is because it keeps them within the safety of the fold, of the flock, of the community. That’s what happened to me that morning—I followed a voice calling my name, until I was reunited with my community. When we end readings at church we say, “Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people.” Not what the Spirit was saying, back when the words were written, but what the Spirit is saying, because we believe God still speaks to us, through Scripture and the sacraments, through the whole created world, and through one another. Jesus, the good shepherd, is always calling us back into his flock, back into the safety of beloved community.
This time of pandemic adds a level of complexity to that, but we are not the first generation to face obstacles to practicing our faith. There is still so much good we can do, so much kindness we can offer ourselves and one another. It helps if we take time every day to pause and listen to the voice of the One who loves us best, the One calling us by name. Our good shepherd will never lead us astray, never abandon us, and wants for us to live life with “glad and generous hearts.” Our good shepherd knows us, inside and out, and we know the shepherd’s voice. Amen.
