The Shepherd is Enough - Weekday Homily Video
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Did you keep vigil on Thursday, May 8, along with the millions watching on television, livestreams, or in person at St. Peter’s Square, waiting for the white smoke from the Sistine Chapel chimney and the appearance of the new pope? I noticed that people from all over the world were waiting for the new shepherd to appear on the balcony of St. Peter's Basilica. All members of the one flock, under the leadership of the one shepherd. The Book of Revelation 7:9 came to my mind: “I, John, had a vision of a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people and tongue.”
I once read a story about a priest who asked his sacristan to write out the response to the Responsorial Psalm for the parishioners to recite during Mass. That Sunday, the response was: “The Lord is my Shepherd. There is nothing I shall want.” But the board was too small. So the priest, thinking practically, told the sacristan, “Just write, ‘The Lord is my Shepherd.’ That’s enough.”
When the time came for the response, the congregation, dutifully reading what was written, echoed with deep conviction: “The Lord is my Shepherd. That is enough.” It was a mistake—but what a beautiful one. Because truly, isn’t that the whole Gospel in one line?
To really understand that statement, we need to step into the sandals of a shepherd in biblical times. Shepherds didn’t work office hours. They lived among their sheep, knew each one by name, protected them from wild animals, led them to water, and slept at the entrance of the sheepfold. That’s not poetic—it’s practical. At night, they’d lie down across the pen's opening. The shepherd’s body was the gate. No sheep could wander off, and no predator could get in, without stepping over him. That’s what Jesus meant when He said, “I am the Good Shepherd.” He wasn't offering cozy imagery. It’s fierce. Intimate. Personal.
Telling the Sheep Apart
Some years ago, I met an elderly man who raised sheep on his farm. All the sheep looked the same to me—fuzzy, white, slightly confused. I asked, “How do you tell them apart?”
He chuckled and said, “That’s because you don’t live with them. They have got names. But more than that, they have personalities and attitudes. For instance, that one panics in the rain and thunder. That one over there limps when she walks too far. That big guy is lazy, always lags behind—but he’s sweet, the other one strays always.” As he spoke, I wondered if that’s how Jesus sees us.
We are not part of some anonymous flock. He knows which one of us limps through grief, which one panics in the storm, which one is lagging behind but still lovable. He knows our flaws. He’s not surprised by our fears. And yet He still calls us, “Mine.”
All Called to Shepherd
Shepherding isn’t reserved for priests, religious, or farmers. It’s for all of us.
A missionary priest once shared how a barefoot little girl walked into a remote chapel, carrying her younger brother on her hip. She gently placed him in the front pew, straightened his shirt, and knelt to pray. When asked where their mother was, she quietly said, “Mama died. I’m taking care of him now.” She didn’t wait to grow up to care. She didn’t ask permission to love. She simply did what love does—she shepherded. So, what does all this mean for us? It means you and I are not just sheep. We’re also called to be shepherds.
That’s right—every baptized person carries a bit of the shepherd’s staff, whether we like it or not. And no, there’s no app for that. You don’t need holy water in your purse or a theology degree. You need a heart willing to show up—even if your flock is just one fussy teenager, an aging parent, or a neighbor whose dog barks all night. Maybe shepherding today looks less like holding a staff and more like holding your temper.
Every day, we are called to pay attention to the sheep around us—especially the ones that don’t look like sheep. They might be grumpy, loud, or wearing earbuds at the dinner table. Love them anyway. And when you feel too tired, too weak, or too lost to lead, remember: the Good Shepherd doesn’t need us to be perfect. Just present.
Ultimately, we are sheep and shepherds, and sometimes both are on the same day. And the beautiful truth is still this: The Lord is my Shepherd. That is enough
- Father Boby's inspirational homily was recorded live during Mass at the Father Peyton Center this morning. You can view the Mass (and the Rosary at the 30-minute mark) on the Family Rosary YouTube page.
- To join the Rosary and Mass Livestream, visit the Family Rosary YouTube or Facebook page at 11:30 a.m. Eastern, Monday – Friday. Consider inviting others to join too! (*If you are not a member of Facebook and a signup window appears, simply select the X at the top of the pop-up message and continue to the livestream.)
About Father Boby John, C.S.C.
Father Boby John, C.S.C., ordained a priest in the Congregation of Holy Cross in 2008, worked as a pastor and an educator with tribal populations in Northeast India for thirteen years. Originally from Kerala, India, Father Boby grew up with his parents and three siblings. He is a dedicated and detailed educationist with a Master's degree in Educational Management and is pursuing a PhD in Educational Leadership. He is currently working as the Co-Director of Family Rosary, USA, and as the chaplain at the world headquarters of Holy Cross Family Ministries, North Easton, Massachusetts.