Shepherd of souls

Today, the liturgy speaks to us of the Good Shepherd, the one who comes after us, who pursues us and who is the answer to our every longing. If this is true, why do we resist the invitation to listen to his voice, to follow in his footsteps, to rest in his presence?

There is always a part of the human soul that is restless, that can be even rebelious at times. Even though we know with the power of reason that to surrender to the call of the Shepherd would ultimately do us good, we resist because we want to be in control of our own choices, our own lives, our own destinies. Some people spend their entire lives fighting against the truth that to follow the guidance of the Shepherd is in our best interest, and that He wants nothing but the best for us.

There's something very soothing about the image of one who has gone astray, managed to get totally and utterly lost and who comes back to familiar ground, to waiting arms, to the warmth of a relationship of love and forgiveness for all that has transpired, and trusts this relationship so inately that it is possible to totally relax, to be at peace, to trust that all will be well.

Sound too much like a utopia? Many other voices have tried to speak this truth as well. This afternoon, I heard a conversation on the CBC Radio program Tapestry entitled The Open Road. It's a conversation with Pico Iyer about the Fourteenth Dahli Lama. Like so many others, the Dahli Lama speaks of himself as 'a simple buddhist monk' who seeks to live in peace with himself and others.

Christians believe that on the day of our baptism, our life in Christ begins. In a sense, Christ creates a voiceprint on our souls, and this voiceprint forms the basis for a conversation which continues throughout our entire terrestrial life. For more about the effects of this voiceprint, read the text or listen to the podcast of my homily for this week.