Each day this Easter season, as we cope with a world in dramatic transformation, on the liturgical front we toggle between the mysticism of John’s gospel and the pragmatic mission of Acts of the Apostles.

As a preacher and perhaps a pastor, you know a little something about shepherding.

In the not-distant past, though it feels very distant indeed in this age of the pandemic, friends of mine were talking about a great shopping experience they had had (remember those?): what a haul they brought home, and at such amazing prices!

“Let me set this before you as plainly as I can. If a person climbs over or through the fence of a sheep pen instead of going through the gate, you know he’s up to no good—a sheep rustler! The shepherd walks right up to the gate. The gatekeeper opens the gate to him and the sheep recognize his voice.

I was thrown into coaching freshman soccer with no experience coaching ever. Seventy-five students tried out for 25 slots. I followed instructions given to me by the varsity coach.

The RCA company was one of the first to develop the phonograph, or, as they called it, the Victrola. Their logo was a dog sitting next to an old-style phonographic speaker with his ear cocked and listening.

Jorge looked with glee at his first big commission check from his interior design company. He decided to buy a Porsche. As he strolled around the car showroom looking at $100,000-plus sports cars, he couldn’t find the color he wanted—lapis blue metallic.

Across from the parish parking lot is a double row of townhomes. A private roadway between the two rows is what separates them. Some units face on to that private road and others open outward to the street.

The Lord is our shepherd. We turn to him for forgiveness.

May your life preach more loudly than your lips.