A Shepherd and a Sheep

"It is...it always is...however much we try to say it was."
   --Thomas Mann

Several years ago I had an opportunity to study at the College of Preachers in Washington, DC. The College of Preachers is housed on the grounds of the Washington Cathedral. After studying hard all week I decided my last morning there to visit the cathedral. It was early morning and I just wanted to walk around and soak up the splendor.

So I went up the hill to the cathedral and found the building locked. I walked all the way around the huge structure. Every door was shut tight. I could not get in. I had come too early and the cathedral was not open. After trying every door and saw a little sign that read: "Chapel of the Good Shepherd”—open 24 hours every day.”

So I thought, “Well, I can sneak in the back way. I can go through the basement and I can find an opening and get upstairs and I’ll find a way to get into the building before anybody else gets there!” And I went in through the entrance in the basement, walked down a long hall and turned right. The doors were locked. I could not get in. So I turned around and walked back down the hall and started to leave the building when I saw the sign: “The Chapel of the Good Shepherd.”

I found myself in a little room about the size of a large closet. I think there were four or five tiny benches. There was a small stained glass window off to the side. In the center was a tiny altar. On that stone altar—which was just a ledge—I looked up at this beautiful carved, sculptured piece. It was a Shepherd holding a sheep in his arms. Underneath that piece, somebody had placed a sprig of forsythia.

I sat down and looked up at the statue. And I don’t know exactly what happened. But something gripped me as if for the first time in my life. I understood the meaning of the first words of the 23rd Psalm: “The Lord is my shepherd.” As I looked at the stone carving, I saw the kindness and the tenderness in that face that looked down at the sheep in his arms. I noticed how that shepherd held that lamb so close and so tender. As I looked at the sheep, I saw myself. And it hit me with a freshness I still remember. He was my Shepherd. I had preached on that text a hundred times. But suddenly I saw with new eyes that I was kept in those arms and I was loved and cared for. I don’t know what happened but it’s one of the peak experiences in my life in which the story was more than a story. The words had walked off the page and touched me at some deep level. The Lord was my shepherd and I was kept.

That afternoon I wanted something to mark the occasion and I went up to the gift shop. I found a little silver cross and I wore that cross around my neck as a sign of the fact that he is my shepherd and he keeps me safe and secure. Sometimes when things have been hard and life has pressed down on me, I have felt that cold metal cross on my chest and I always remember.

Wherever we go and whatever we do we need to remember that we are loved and we are kept. And so as the Preacher read the lectionary text from Isaiah 40—that day in Washington came back as if it was today. “He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young.” Thanks be to God.