THE VOICE OF THE SHEPHERD

READINGS: FOURTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

In today’s Gospel (John 10:1- 10), Jesus describes Himself as the Good Shepherd whose sheep recognize His voice and follow Him. This image strikingly reminds me of the story of a woman who had two cows. She had them grazing near her home when a herdsman with a large herd lured them away and mixed them into his own. When she reported the theft, the police asked if she had any identifying marks to prove ownership. She had none. Still, she insisted they take her to the man’s ranch. Standing before the herd, she called out, “Maroohaa!” and immediately, one cow rose and walked toward her. Then she called, “Anahoo!” and a second cow did the same. Then she turned and walked away, and the cows followed her. The animals knew her voice; the voice that had fed them, cared for them, and protected them. No thief, no matter how large his herd, could erase that bond. The police arrested the herdsman.

This story beautifully echoes the message of Jesus in our Gospel reading. Jesus says that the shepherd calls his sheep by name, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice and have learned to trust Him. Worthy of notice is that Jesus said that the shepherd “calls his own sheep by name.” Not by labels. Not by number. Not by category. Not by usefulness. But by name. Labels shrink people, divide people, and flatten identity. That Christ calls us by name means that God’s love is personal. He does not know us as part of a crowd, but as individuals—each with a story, a wound, a struggle, and a purpose. In a world where many feel unseen, used, or forgotten, this is deeply comforting: the Lord knows us, sees us, and calls us lovingly to himself, by name.

Our world is filled with voices competing for our attention; voices that promise success without integrity, voices that normalize hatred, division, or dishonesty, voices that tell us we are not enough, voices that drown out silence, prayer, and conscience, voices that lure us into fear, anxiety, or self-destruction. Some voices entice us the way the herdsman enticed the cows, pulling us into crowds that do not reflect who we truly are. Consequently, many people lose their way not because they intend to do wrong, but because they have listened too long to the wrong voice.

The voice of Christ is steady, personal, and familiar. We learn His voice the same way the cows learned theirs: through daily trust, repeated encounters, and a relationship built over time. We hear Him in Scripture that shapes our conscience, in prayer that quiets our fears, in the Eucharist that nourishes us, in the quiet movement of sacramental graces in our heart, and in the community that reflects His love. The good news is that Christ does not stop calling his own simply because they are standing in the wrong field. No! Rather, He calls repeatedly, hoping that something deep within us will recognize His voice.

Today’s Gospel, therefore, invites us to ask: Which voice am I following today? The voice that leads to peace, truth, and life, or the voices that scatter, confuse, and exhaust? The voice we follow becomes the identity we live by. May we learn to recognize His voice amid the noise of our world, and may we follow Him with the same certainty as those cows who rose at the sound of the one who truly knew them and cares for them without judgment.