Given current trends in North American Christianity and culture, I can easily imagine a day when a child, seeing a crucifix for the first time and asking her mother what on earth it might be, will receive this answer: "That, my dear, is someone who did not take very good care of himself."

This will strike you as farfetched only to the extent that you do not read self-help books, watch your local PBS station (insofar as there remains any difference), or spend time hanging out with clergy. To do any of these three even in moderation is almost inevitably to come face-to-face with the notion that a truly good shepherd never lays down his or her life for anybody. One begins to anticipate a new translation of the gospel in which the resurrected Christ will say to Simon Peter, "Do you love me?" and when Simon insists that he does, Christ will reply, "Then feed yourself."

Having said this, I might surprise you if I also say that convincing people to take care of themselves is one of the greatest pastoral challenges I know. And it remains such a challenge precisely because of the ubiquitous lip service this culture pays to "taking care of ourselves." Once the sheep have heard the false ring of "a stranger's voice," even when there's some merit in the stranger's advice they will fly from it. At that point it takes the Good Shepherd himself to bring them back to health and balance.