John 10:11-18 is part of a segment that includes John 10:1-21.
It is the aftermath of Jesus at the Feast of Tabernacles with the theme of Jesus as sheepgate and shepherd. It occurs between the Feast of Tabernacles in September to October and the Feast of Dedication in December. The segment looks forward to the transition to the Feast of Dedication in 10:26-27. John envisions the same audience as that of Chapter 9, namely, the Pharisees. This section is a figurative attack on the Pharisees. Thus, the theme of attacking Jewish authorities continues from Chapter 9.
John 10: 11-16 is a discussion of the shepherd image in the parable we find in verses 1-5. As Jesus puts this image out for consideration, placing it in the context of John's gospel is crucial. Chapter 9 is the detailed story of the miracle of Jesus giving sight to a man born blind. Chapter 10 concludes his opponents accusing Jesus of blasphemy and moves toward one of the high points of John's gospel: the death and subsequent raising of Lazarus. Jesus is heading for the ultimate tragedy in Jerusalem, and the theme of death - especially his own death - recurs in his parables and statements. Jesus' popularity is increasing, and the number of his followers continues to grow, peaking with the feeding of 5,000 (John 6), thus making the religious authorities more fearful and determined to eliminate Jesus.
11 "I am [Ἐγώ εἰμι] the good shepherd.
“I am” begins this section. This emphatic phrase has the force of stressing the "I" (compare John 6:35 "bread of life" and 8:12 "light of the world"). The stress of "I" attests to the special relationship Jesus has with his followers, and distances the religious leaders as those blind to the peoples' needs. When Jesus makes his declarative "I am" statements, he is offering a symbolic discourse that freely mixes both symbolic and straightforward language. John's gospel is sometimes known as the "I Am" gospel for a reason (for the "I am" statements see 6:35, 51; 8:12, 24, 58; 10:7, 9; 11:25; 14:6; 15:1, 5). The straightforwardness and forcefulness of these "I am" declarations reveal glimpses of Jesus that John clearly intends to suggest his divinity. These self-disclosures stress the uniqueness of Jesus' mission and identity, leading the listener toward Jesus' self-revelation. While the images are familiar sheep, gatekeepers, shepherds their radical disclosure opened Jesus and his followers to accusations of heresy, of di theism, by Jewish leaders. In the two verses immediately preceding, Jesus declares himself the only doorway to salvation and abundant life (10:9-10). Obviously, the Jewish establishment viewed such a message as a direct attack on their unique relationship between God and the chosen people of God.
The Good Shepherd is an ideal model. In the Old Testament tradition, if one was a good shepherd, one was in the tradition of the Patriarchs, Moses, and David. Such an image has deep connections with the Jewish scripture. During the Babylonian exile, Isaiah 40:11 offers comfort in the hope of a new Exodus with the Lord as the shepherd, leading the sheep (people) home. Likewise, Jeremiah uses the image of the future "good" shepherding of the Lord, which he contrasts against the irresponsible shepherding that Israel's present kings (shepherds) are offering. The Good Shepherd can provide comprehensive care for his sheep, as Psalm 23 also notes. The other gospels also report Jesus speaking of himself as a shepherd - see Matthew 18:12-14; Luke 15:3-7 - but John most fully develops the image. The language of good shepherding during a time to remember false shepherds conjures images of Ezekiel 34. In Ezekiel 34:1-10, the prophet recounts a period of bad shepherds who fatten themselves, take the wool for clothing, and fail to care for the sheep. These shepherds lead with force and harshness with no concern to help the weak, fallen, injured, strayed, or lost. Because of such poor leadership, the sheep of Israel scatter, becoming prey for wild animals and lack any hope of rescue. In Ezekiel 34:11-31, however, God himself decides to search for his sheep, to gather the flock, and to attend to the weak and injured. Though imagery of God as nurturer and caregiver is prominent in the text, the language of judgment is even more overt. The necessity of the Lord to take the role of the Good Shepherd indicates the presence of false leaders and selfish hirelings. Moreover, in Ezekiel 34:17-22, the Lord must judge between the sheep and must purge the flock of those who do not belong to him. Thus, Jesus’ claim to be the Good Shepherd in the midst of the festival season suggests that, once again, there is a need for such a Good Shepherd to arise (consider John 2:13-22). Jesus’ words to the Jews who are questioning his identity in 10:26-27 sounds more like an indictment: “But you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” The fact that Jewish authorities did not recognize what God was doing in Jesus to fulfill the promises of the Scripture, and especially to become Christ, the Davidic-like Servant whom God will make Shepherd (Ezekiel 34:23-24), makes it painfully obvious that they do not even recognize a Good Shepherd when they see one. Little wonder that others hear these "I am" statements as first century fighting words.
The comforting, consoling image of Jesus as the "good shepherd" as described here was among the most problematic and polemical for first century believers. The rural images used by Jesus - such as "the good shepherd" (v. 11) - do not always translate into modern life. Most people today have never seen a shepherd, except in photographs and Christmas pageants. Most people today have never seen a good-sized flock of sheep, and if they have, a fence was managing the sheep rather than a shepherd.
If Jesus were the Good Shepherd, the allegory would conclude that Christian men, women, boys, and girls are the sheep. Therefore, this is a call to "followership." Throughout the New Testament, Jesus calls on people to listen and believe - but above all, Jesus calls people to follow him.
Verses 11b-13 is the first explanation of the notion that Jesus the good or model shepherd. Jesus follows his claim to being a "good shepherd" by defining the first characteristic such a shepherding one bears. The good (καλός) or "model," "ideal" or even "noble," shepherd lays down his life (vv. 11, 15, 17, 18, emphasizing that Jesus' actions are a result of his own initiative) for the sheep. John is responding to those challenging the early church by reminding them that a responsible and impartial judge did not have Jesus executed. Jesus laid down his own life. The theme of dying is abrupt, there being no suggestion of this in the parable of verses 1-5. Note Mark 14:27 and John 21:15-19. The parable of the lost sheep shows the trouble a shepherd will take for a lost sheep. Here, the risk extends to death. 12 The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming, leaves the sheep, and runs away-- and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13 The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. The image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd is a call for us to follow him. We do so when we recognize the dangers to spiritual life in this world and allow Jesus to protect us from them. The Good Shepherd is one willing to protect the sheep, even at the expense of his own life. He is ready to chase the wolves. In modern society, those who follow Jesus may very well hear the call to step into this role, to stand up to wolves and protect the sheep of God. This is the Good Shepherd not as opposed to a "bad" shepherd, but as distinguished from the simply average or minimal shepherding that another would offer. The difference between the two is easily described by Jesus' reference to "hireling" one with no personal investment in the sheep. The hireling abandons the sheep to save his own hide at the first sign of a threat, while the Good Shepherd willingly "lays down his life" to safeguard the flock. The text stresses the greatness of Jesus' commitment in his mention that he will even die for the sheep.
To be sure, this language of shepherding was a rich metaphor for a first-century audience. The evangelist combines the teaching of the Good Shepherd with the imagery of the sheep gate (10:1-9). The gate protects the sheep both from the dangers of a robber coming into the fold and from the danger of sheep escaping it. Following the teaching of the Good Shepherd is a controversy with Jews during the Feast of Dedication in Jerusalem resulting in the recognition that those who do not believe in Jesus are not his sheep (10:22-39). The theme of “sheep” connects the teachings of the Good Shepherd and Gate to this controversy at the Feast of Dedication. The mention of this detail of timing amid Jesus’ teaching is important.
Though many modern readers have difficulty understanding the role of a shepherd, the audience of John’s gospel was familiar with the toils of shepherding. They knew the risk of life in protecting the flock from wild animals, the constant hassle of keeping sheep from wandering off, the long days of herding and leading helpless animals to necessary food and water in a barren land. Certainly, most people today have never seen a flock of sheep in a state of panic as wolves move among them, seeking the choice lambs of the flock. This was no easy task. Yet, John tells us that amidst all the perils and loneliness of such a chore, Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
The intention of the writer is to highlight the gathering of the community of faith in Jesus, its close relationship to Jesus, the shepherd, and its separated character from false teachers. His intention holds both for the situation during the active ministry of Jesus and that of his own time. He presents the riddle right at the start in relation to the non-believers, who because of it remain, uncomprehending, so that he himself can thereupon disclose its essential content to the believing community through new Christological words. Seen in this light, we can state more clearly the riddle’s relationship to the following revelatory words in “I” style. We can say that it was not a pre-existing parable from which, as from a reservoir, the writer fashioned his Christological images; rather, John has consciously related to them for the outset, the material condensed into it and which it shapes into a pastoral scene with an enigmatical meaning is then unfolded in the light of the intended perspective. He does take up all the features of the image. Instead, he gives only a number prominence and interprets them. Moreover, he introduces new ones according as they fit in with the Christological purpose in view. In both cases, the twofold aspect is discernible and acts as the guiding principle behind both arrangement and structure.
The distinguishing mark of the hired hand is that he does not care for the sheep in the way the good shepherd does. It may well be that the school of Christ is the school of love and caring. In the final examination that each of us will have after death, we will receive no question regarding our interpretation of a philosophical text. The whole syllabus will consist of love.[1]
Charles Swann pays a call on his friends the Duke and Duchess of Guermantes, who are preparing to leave for an evening of entertainment. Always looking for future diversions, the duchess insists that Swann, who she admits does not look at all well, accompany them on their next trip to Venice. "But, my dear lady, I shall then have been dead for several months." The duchess' carriage is waiting. Her husband begs her to hurry. Caught between the demands of her social life and the confession of a dying man, the duchess chooses not to hear. "You must be joking," she says and steps toward her carriage. The duke notices a terrible fashion error; she has shoes that do not match her red dress. While there is no time to comfort a dying man, the carriage waits for her change to her shoes.[2]
For many of us, only our lives matter. The suffering of others is beyond our ability to care. We escape the demands made by friendship or love. Our hearts remain closed; our imaginations refuse to reach outside narrow limits.
The hired hand cannot care for the sheep. The shepherd who had led his sheep to pasture now proves himself their true keeper, their good shepherd in times of danger. It is as a contrasting figure that John introduces the hireling or paid shepherd afresh. The imagery itself demands it, and John intends it to exclude all other claimants to the title of shepherd, in the same way as rejects thieves, robbers, and strangers respectively. The Pharisees would be the hired hand who betrays the flock. Note Matthew 10:16, "I send you like sheep amid wolves." With no financial or emotional investment in these animals, hired hands have little incentive to stand by the helpless sheep when danger threatens. The good shepherd, on the other hand, is closely bound to his flock.
Verses 14-16 repeat the affirmation that 14 I am the good shepherd. When Jesus states the second time that he is the Good Shepherd, he brings to the reader's attention a new but related thought. Jesus once again defines himself as the "good shepherd" but now declares that this title requires a unique three-step degree of familiarity from Father to Son to flock. I know my own and my own know me, 15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. This involves intimate awareness that one demonstrates in the love and commitment between two parties. The "knowledge" shared between God, Jesus and the "sheep" who know their "shepherd" should not be thought of as some special esoteric gnosis necessary for salvation. All that the sheep "know" is their faith in the Good Shepherd's unfaltering love and compassion. This is "knowledge" only in that it is knowledge of faithfulness. Further, I lay down my life for the sheep. What the Father "knows," what the sheep "know," is that Jesus as the Good Shepherd, the one in perfect accordance with God's own will, gladly lays down his life for the sheep. The relationship between the Father and the Son is one replicated in Jesus and his followers. The reason that the Father loves the Son is not because the Son goes to the cross. It is because the crucifixion expresses the unity of the Father and the Son.
John presents to the reader the glory of the mediator. Jesus is the light of life. He is the shepherd who guides the sheep and the voice the sheep hear.[3] To follow this shepherd will require knowing him well enough that you can discern his voice. This type of following is a choice of what you do with your life. Some people will offer as an excuse that they had no other choice, no way out, or no alternative. Some might think of humanity as more like the tools of history, powerless before their fate or destiny. They might think of history as the unconscious universal that uses our lives for its purpose. Napoleon might view himself as acting of his volition, imposing will upon his people. Yet, the grip of some inevitable force may actually have compelled him to accomplish his destiny.[4]
Yet, Jesus speaks of his choice to lay down his life. He speaks of our choice to affirm him as our good shepherd. He speaks of us knowing him so well that we can discern his voice. In 1943, the French Philosopher Jean Paul Sartre wrote Being and Nothingness. In that book, Sartre asserted that the thing that makes us human, that which separates us from the animals, is our ability to choose. In every circumstance in life, we have the freedom to choose. Even when we do not realize we are choosing, we are choosing, said Sartre. All circumstances in life, even those that have great constriction, offer us room for choice. We create our lives. That we exist as finite beings is obvious. We do not truly exist as human beings until we experience the freedom of our choice.
At one point in Being and Nothingness, Sartre is having a conversation in a French café. French philosophers then spent lots of time sitting in cafes and philosophizing. He sees a very officious waiter bustling about from table to table. The waiter is the sort of stereotypical French waiter – pompous, proud, and a bit contemptuous of the customers. As he moves from table to table, Sartre says to his companion, “That man is trying to be a waiter. He is turning himself into a thing, a waiter.” Each little movement of his eyes, each movement of his hands, the way he walks, all of this represents choice. This man, who could be any number of human beings, is turning himself into a waiter. He is choosing to be one form of human existence and not another. Of course, extraordinarily little of this is in the consciousness of the waiter. He does not know that he is busy deciding. That is not really the point. The point is that he is deciding; he is moving his life in one direction and not another.
Across the café sits a couple, talking about this and that, drinking cups of coffee. A young man reaches across the table and puts his hand upon the hand of the girl. She does not pull her hand away. She glances briefly at his hand, touching hers, and she continues to talk. Sartre says she has also chosen; she has decided. She did not think about it, did not agonize over it, but she is entering a relationship with this man, through her actions, or lack of actions. Even not to choose is therefore to choose. Through our choices, we are becoming certain sorts of people. We are shutting doors and opening other ones.
A Nazi SS officer, when asked why he participated in the killing of a town full of Jews in World War II, explains, “I was an officer. I had to obey orders. I had no other way.” Sartre disagreed. There is always another way. To walk down one road is to choose not to walk down other roads. Much of our lives, says Sartre, is an attempt to evade responsibility for our lives. We evade, make excuses for ourselves, saying, “This is the only thing I could do in this situation.” That is usually a lie. What we are saying is that I choose this alternative because it was the easiest, would cause me less pain, or required less risk of me. Still, I made a choice. More accurately, we ought not to say, “I had no other way.” What we ought to say is, “There were other ways that I could travel, but all of them I felt to be unbearably difficult, so I went this way.”
Victor Frankl’s, Man’s Search for Meaning contains his account of living in a Nazi concentration camp with his family. Many of his fellow prisoners fell into complete despair. They had lost everything, stripped of their human dignity, treated like the lowest of the animals. Little wonder then that some prisoners sat down and died. Frankl noted the deaths of a number of prisoners who were not particularly ill, or who had not received ill-treatment. They just simply stopped living – laid down and died. He spoke about their resignation to their “fate.” They had no other way out, little hope of escape from the prison, and so they died rather than lived. Of course, they died because of the Nazi cruelty that put them there. Yet, they also died through their choice. They decided to quit. Frankl took another way. Each day, walking out to the work site, he thought of a book that he had been writing. He composed the book in his mind, chapter by chapter. In his mind, he went back over the various aspects of the book. He thought of his wife. He pictured their good times in the past, he fanaticized about the future they would have together. He survived. His survival was not only a miraculous act of God, but also due to his own conscious efforts.
Our choice, our ability in every situation to choose, is one of God’s greatest gifts to us. In a sense, creation is not finished. The story of our creation in Genesis says that God has made us fellow workers, co-creators. That means that there is still something left to do in the creation of the world. We create through our choices. We can say yes and we can say no. We can take one road and not another. In a sense, we do not really exist until we choose. In a sense, not to choose, merely to let our lives drift along, is to be unfaithful to the great gift of life that God has given us. When I choose, when I walk down one road and not another, particularly if it is a difficult and demanding road, it is my way of giving my thanks to God for the gift of life and its freedom. It is my doxology, by way of praising God for life as God has given it to me.
People can be in horrendous situations, and yet, we can see them choose to shape and create life. They could surrender to their fate, but they do not. They take hold of the dimension of freedom they can in that moment. We choose how to live through debilitating sickness. We can do so with resentment, self-pity, and anger. We can also do with dignity, cheerfulness, and gratitude.
As Sartre might put it, we have no excuses. We have chosen to live our lives the way we did rather than another way.
“Thy will be done,” says the one who comes to the final examination of their lives and places their lives in the hand of God. “Thy will be done,” says God to those who have chosen Hell for their destination.[5]
16 I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold (αὐλῆς, a building with an interior courtyard; an uncovered, walled area that is enclosed but without a roof; an open-air (interior) courtyard of a mansion or palace.). I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. Therefore, there will be one flock (ποίμνη), one shepherd. Jesus is aware that the Father is to lead to him other people besides that will believe through the word of the disciples. For some, the sentiment of this verse is troublesome amid this picture of the Good Shepherd. The "other sheep" suggests Jesus' sacrifice is just as much for these others as for those already in the fold. This revelation has a history of varied interpretation within church tradition. Who are the other sheep? Most scholars believe that this is making a distinction between Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians, but others theorize that this means other Christian congregations beyond the Johannine community. Today, many use this as an ecumenical imperative (compare Ephesians 2:11-22; 4:1-6), reflecting that Jesus is not the Good Shepherd for just a single expression of Christianity, but for all expressions of the faith. It may also have been part of the conviction of the early Christian community that worldwide mission must be the result of Jesus' death and resurrection. Other flocks must learn of this Good Shepherd, who lays down his life for the sheep. The other sheep introduces the Gentile mission. The church struggled to understand the implication of Jesus' statements concerning the conversion of the Gentiles. The Old Testament has the image of shepherd, Moses and David as examples, as well as kings receiving the label of wicked shepherds. Ezekiel provides the background for this imagery, rejecting Bultmann's insistence on Mandean parallels. The Greek clearly distinguishes between Jesus' reference to "this fold" and the "one flock" that his voice will call together.[6] The difference suggested by the two terms was significant for first century Christians and is equally instructive for 21st century Christians as well. A sheep "fold" was a separated, walled enclosure in which shepherds gathered their flocks for safekeeping during the night. In other words, a "fold" had definite boundaries and size limitations. A "flock," on the other hand, could refer to any number of sheep. "Flocks" were scattered and distributed over wide areas and different terrain. The text distinguishes between the one "fold" that now exists and the one "flock" that the Good Shepherd gathers with his voice.[7] For first century Christians, notably members of the Johannine community listening to this text, the gathered flock surely suggested the inclusion of Gentile believers, those clearly outside the fold of Jewish chosenness, but now called by the Good Shepherd's voice. For 21st century Christians, the distinction between those of one "fold" and those whose response in faith makes them part of the larger "flock" suggests that denominational, cultural, and even theological variances may exist if they are within the sound of the shepherd's voice. The point of this text is to speak positively of a wider mission for the church, as it depicts the other sheep as anxious to listen to Jesus' voice.
We also need to consider the possibility of salvation without a personal encounter with Christ. If we consider Matthew 25:31-46, the message of Jesus is the standard of judgment. We need to put behind us any unfair particularism in the idea that for all of us, salvation depends on our fellowship with Jesus Christ. A personal encounter with Jesus through the Christian message and a response of faith to it is not the universal criterion for participation in salvation or exclusion from it, especially if we take seriously what the New Testament says about the love that God has for the world that embraces all people. Making eternal salvation dependent upon an historical and contingent factor would hardly be evidence of such love. In their case, what counts is whether their individual conduct agrees with the will of God that Jesus proclaimed. The promise of salvation contained in a passage like this may have contained a promise to Gentiles, but it has a greater breadth than that. It has a universal perspective. The advantage of the Christian in the future judgment is that they have the advantage that they know the standard for participation in eternal salvation and the standard of judgment.[8]
Verses 17-18 concern “laying down his life.” 17 For this reason, the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. 18 No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father." Thus, even when John depicts the resurrection as the act of Son, it is in obedience to the Father rather than an independent act of power.[9] This time, when the Good Shepherd is willing to lay down his life for the sheep, it is so that he can take it up again. One can see this new thought, that the purpose of Jesus' death is the resurrection, elsewhere in John's gospel. He binds the crucifixion and resurrection together, and Christ's death is in obedient love to God's will. Jesus is not powerless. He lays down his life freely, in order that he may retake it. The purpose of this intimate knowledge is to bring these followers into union with one another. However, this special relationship between sheep and shepherd mirrors the same kind of commitment and knowledge that exists between Jesus and the Father "as the Father knows me and I know the Father." The Good Shepherd reclaims his life, and he saves the lives of his sheep. One of Jesus' most impressive "signs" is to bring Lazarus back to life. Life: That one-syllable word threads its way throughout the gospel. The Good Shepherd comes to offer life, but his own people reject the offer. Instead, Jesus prepares to give up his own life, and he makes the ultimate sacrifice on the cross, the paramount sacrifice that the Good Shepherd would be prepared to make to save the lives of his sheep. Some feel uncomfortable with the purpose being "to take it up again." Nevertheless, the resurrection is the completion of the death of Jesus. Here, Jesus takes up his life. Normally it is the Father. Later Trinitarian theology would capitalize on this attribution of the Father and Son having the same power. Resurrection is Jesus' last work; the last command the Father has given him. Jesus concludes this "I am" declaration here by defining once again the unique and unrepeatable nature of the relationship between himself and the Father. The love God extends to Jesus flows from a common will and complete obedience. The text firmly grounds the obedience of Jesus in his own freedom to act. The NRSV's marginal translation "No one takes [my life] from me" articulates this freedom the best. Speaking as both the present Jesus and the future risen Christ, this verse reveals that the power both to lay down and once again take up his life comes to Jesus through a special divine relationship a "charge" received from God the Creator.
[1] "The school of Christ is the school of charity. On the last day, when the general examination takes place, there will be no questions at all on the text of Aristotle, the aphorisms of Hippocrates, or paragraphs from Justinian. Charity will be the whole syllabus." 17th-century saint, Robert Bellarmine
[2] Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past.
[3] Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.3 [96.2] 95.
[4] In the epilogue (‘Part Two’) of Tolstoy, War and Peace.
[5] C. S. Lewis wrote in The Great Divorce.
[6] Yet, in Jerome rendered both terms as olvile "fold" in the Latin Vulgate, making Jesus' statement a contrast between "this fold" and the "one fold" of the future. As a result, most Medieval Latin writers, who depended on the Vulgate, continued to express both these references with the same word ovile, "fold." Augustine, Wycliffe, Erasmus and eventually the King James Version of 1611 all continued to carry forward this mistranslation.
[7] Thus, the image is far more inclusive than Jerome's Vulgate translation suggests.
[8] Pannenberg Systematic Theology Volume 3, 615-6.
[9] Pannenberg Systematic Theology Volume 2, 346.
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