Pet rabbits, the Good Shepherd and the promise of eternal life
Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Easter
It’s been wonderful, hasn't it, to enjoy some more sunny weather over the past few weeks. To be able to get outside more, and enjoy the wonder of creation.
In our household, the sunnier weather means that we can let our two rabbits — Bess and Henrietta — out into the garden to roam and explore. They love to hop around on the lawn, lounge around in the sun, and burrow about in the flower beds. Thankfully, fingers crossed, we haven’t had an escape attempt for a while!
Of course, the challenge that comes with letting the rabbits out of their hutch, is having to persuade them to get back in again at the end of the day.
Sometimes, when they are feeling co-operative, we can call, ‘Off to bed now!’, and with a bit of encouragement they’ll go back into the hutch quite quickly. They’ll recognise our voices, and understand that it’s time to go in.
But on a bad day, we can spend half-an-hour calling out to them. Chasing them around the garden. Hunting them through the bushes. Before finally managing to shepherd them home.
In the church calendar, today is often called ‘Good Shepherd Sunday’. The appointed Psalm is always Psalm 23, ‘The Lord is my Shepherd. And our Gospel always contains a segment of Christ’s teaching about himself as the Good Shepherd.
‘My sheep hear my voice,’ Jesus tells us in today’s Gospel, ‘I know them and they follow me.’
This is a vital part of the spiritual life — learning to hear Christ’s voice.
In the same way as our rabbits — Bess and Henri — have learned to recognise our voices over time. To trust that we are there to protect them and keep them safe. So that we can shepherd them in safely at the end of the day, out of the reach of foxes or cats or anything else that might harm them.
The one who, at Easter we discovered, knows us intimately and calls us by name. This same one longs for us to listen to his voice. To hear, recognise and trust him speaking into our lives. Guiding us onto the right path, comforting us in times of trouble, protecting us from self-destruction.
Of course, just like Bess and Henri, we feel more co-operative some days than others. Perhaps we might have our own ideas about what we want for ourselves. Or perhaps we might be distracted by things going on around us. Other voices which, just like the rabbits, have pricked up our ears.
And sometimes, we might doubt that God really has our best interests at heart. The pain, hurt and trauma in our lives can leave us feeling wounded. Asking, ‘God, how could you allow this to happen?’ Especially if we thought that we were following God’s voice.
At least some of these thoughts may well have been going through the minds of the widows, in our reading from Acts, as they weeped over the body of their friend Tabitha. This was someone, we’re told, who lived a good life. Someone ‘devoted to good works and acts of charity’. Someone who must have been used to following the Good Shepherd’s voice.
And yet, still illness had taken her and she had died. And now her friends were beside themselves with grief.
There is, though, a good end to the story. Miraculously, as St Peter prays beside her, Tabitha is brought back to life. Already an example of good works, she now becomes something even greater, a living, breathing sign of the resurrection.
As a priest, I’ve had the privilege of praying at the bedside of a number of people who are close to the point of death. Sadly, my prayers have never brought about a miraculous return to life, unlike those of Peter. But I have often experienced an overwhelming sense of peace. The comfort and closeness of God. The Good Shepherd holding us in his arms of love.
‘I give them eternal life, and they will never perish,’ says Christ, ‘No one will snatch them out of my hand.’
So how can we learn to recognise the voice of Christ, our Good Shepherd, through times both good and hard? Might it be possible to grow so close to God, to surrender ourselves so completely, that listening and following becomes to us second nature?
Just like Peter, this is possible for us only by devoting ourselves to prayer. Making intentional time to listen out for the voice of our Saviour. Just as friends and family members, having spent so much time together learn to recognise each other’s voices — and even each other’s footsteps.
If we want to hear God’s voice, to grow in faith and trust, then we will need to make time to listen. Preparing our hearts before the Eucharist, making use of the time before the service begins. Finding time, even if it’s just a few minutes, each day to pause and pray.
Learning to follow Christ’s voice is a lifelong task. Living outside in the garden, our rabbits only see us so often, especially during the Winter months. After six years, they have only just about learned to recognise the one simple command to go home.
So it is with us. We must give ourselves time. Trusting in God’s incredible grace, to draw close to us wherever and whenever we call. And, even at the point of death, to guide us safely into the eternal life which he has prepared for us.
Today, may we learn to hear the shepherd’s voice, drawing closer to him day-by-day, that we might share in his perseverance, his protection and his peace.
Alleluia! Amen.
Sermon preached at St Mellons Parish Church in the East Cardiff Ministry Area on Sunday 11 May 2025.