Sheeple
I make a habit of keeping up with websites across the political spectrum. From far left to far right, and everywhere in between. When I’m feeling particularly brave, I even read the comment threads. I’m not sure I recommend the practice – at least if you value your sanity – but I like to know what people of all sorts are saying and thinking, so I do it.
Don’t worry. I’m not going to talk about politics today.
But I’ve noticed one thing. Left or right, there’s one word that shows up again and again. It’s one of the most common insults directed against opponents, whatever the accuser and accused might happen to believe. Do you know the word I’m thinking of? Unlike much of what’s said in online political discourse, it’s a perfectly safe word for church. The word is “sheep.” “Don’t be a sheep,” commenters will write. Or the more evocative variant, sheeple. Sheep. People. Sheeple. “Look at all the sheeple, blindly following where others lead.”
Even away from the internet, sheep aren’t exactly admired. They’re seen as stupid, dependent, easily frightened, prone to falling into ditches and getting stuck. And they probably don’t smell very good. Sheep stand around all day and eat grass. No sheep has ever been a hero, or written a great poem, or held a deep thought.
All this bad sheep PR creates some cognitive dissonance for people of faith, though, doesn’t it? I mean, think about it. Today we talk about Jesus as the Good Shepherd, the one who lays down his life for the sheep. But if Jesus is the shepherd, what does that make us?
We might as well face it. It makes us sheep.
I don’t want to be a sheep. I like to think of myself as smart, independent, self-reliant, busy doing important, non-sheeplike things.
Why are we so resistant to being called sheep? Why is it such a powerful insult?
I don’t know for sure, but I suspect it might have something to do with the truths in the term. Have you ever noticed that the things that bother you most in others are things you also see and dislike within yourself? That the insults that wound are the ones that contain at least a kernel of truth? I suspect there might something like that going on with the word “sheep.”
Because the truth is that while I might like to think of myself as smart, independent, self-reliant, busy doing important, non-sheeplike things—that isn’t always the reality. I sometimes wander off and get lost. I make a mess of things. I fall in ditches. If we’re honest, aren’t we all sometimes a little bit stupid, a little bit foolish, a little bit frightened? And aren’t we all sometimes just tired? Don’t we at least occasionally wish for someone else to carry the load, take the responsibility, make everything better?
Even as we resist thinking of ourselves as sheep, I suspect that’s why we hold on to the image of Jesus as shepherd, as the one who will always be there, the one who can always be trusted, the one who find us if we get lost, and will keep the wolves at bay.
God as shepherd is an old and comforting image. But it’s also a paradoxical image.
Some of you know that I just got back from a trip to Egypt. There are statues of pharaohs all over the country, and most of them show the pharaoh with his arms crossed over his chest, a shepherd’s crook in one hand, and a whip in the other. A pharaoh was a shepherd, but a shepherd with power. The statues of Egypt were old even in Jesus’s time, and similar imagery can be found throughout the near East. Remember that King David was a shepherd before he became a king. The symbols of kings and shepherds went hand in hand.
We’re assured that Jesus is the “good shepherd,” the one who “lays down his life for the sheep.” But a king doesn’t do that. And neither does an ordinary shepherd (even a pretty decent one). The sheep are there to serve the shepherd—not the other way around. A good shepherd will care for the sheep, sure, but won’t die for them. Even an ordinary shepherd wields power.
In claiming to be the good shepherd who “lays down his life for the sheep,” Jesus is turning the traditional imagery of kingship on its head. Jesus is not just a king, but a king who comes among us, loves us, gives up his life for us.
So when we say as Christians that “the Lord is my shepherd,” we’re not just acknowledging our need for God (and our occasional sheep-like foolishness). We’re recognizing the astonishing grace of the “good shepherd” who, unlike every other shepherd that has ever been, “lays down his life for the sheep.”
That’s the shepherd to remember when you pray the familiar words of the psalm.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
The Lord is my shepherd. The good shepherd, who lays down his life for the sheep.
Maybe it’s not so bad to be a sheep.