In October of 2021, a hiker got lost on Mount Elbert in Colorado, the highest peak in the state. He had gone out for a hike, but when he did not return, search and rescue teams were called.
They began looking for him and tried to reach him by phone. They called. They texted. They left voicemail messages. But the hiker did not answer. Later, rescuers explained why: he had ignored the calls because he did not recognize the number.
That sounds almost funny at first. Many of us do the same thing. An unknown number appears on the screen, and we let it go. But in his case, the voice he ignored was the voice trying to save him.
Thankfully, he eventually made it back safely. But the story stays with you because it says something very human. Sometimes we are not lost because no one is calling. Sometimes we are lost because we do not recognize the voice that is trying to lead us home.
Today, on the Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year A, Jesus speaks about sheep, shepherds, voices, gates, strangers, and thieves. It is a simple image, but it reaches deep into the human heart. The shepherd enters through the gate. The sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. They follow because they recognize his voice.
Then Jesus says something even stronger: “I am the gate for the sheep.”
So in this Gospel, Jesus is not only the One who calls us. He is also the way into life. He is the gate through which we enter safety, freedom, belonging, and peace.
At first, that image may sound strange to us. We usually think of a gate as something that blocks or limits us. A gate keeps people out. A gate marks a boundary. A gate says, “You may go this far, but no farther.”
But in the Gospel, the gate is not a prison. The gate is protection. It is not a wall against life. It is the entrance into life.
In the time of Jesus, shepherds would often bring the sheep into a sheepfold at night. It was a place of safety. The walls protected the flock from thieves, wild animals, and dangers in the dark. The shepherd knew who belonged there. The sheep knew the shepherd’s voice. They would not follow a stranger, because the stranger’s voice did not carry the same trust.
That is the world Jesus is describing. And He uses that image to speak about our relationship with Him.
We live in a world full of voices. Some are helpful and true. Many are not. Some voices promise freedom but lead us into slavery. Some promise happiness but leave us empty. Some tell us that we are only worth what we produce, what we own, how successful we look, or how other people see us.
There is the voice of fear, which says, “Protect yourself at all costs.” There is the voice of pride, which says, “You do not need anyone.” There is the voice of resentment, which says, “Hold on to that hurt.” There is the voice of discouragement, which says, “Nothing will ever change.” And there is the voice of distraction, which says, “Do not think too deeply. Just keep moving.”
Those voices can be loud. Sometimes they can even sound reasonable. But they do not lead us to peace. They do not lead us to freedom. They do not lead us to abundant life.
The voice of Christ is different.
His voice does not shame us, but it does tell us the truth. It does not flatter us, but it reminds us of our dignity. It does not always make life easy, but it gives us strength to walk the road. It does not promise that we will avoid every valley, but it promises that we do not have to walk alone.
And His voice always leads us through the right gate.
That is important, because many of us want the voice of Jesus without the gate of Jesus. We want comfort, but not conversion. We want reassurance, but not direction. We want Jesus to bless every path we choose, even when that path is taking us farther from Him.
But Jesus does not say, “I am one gate among many.” He says, “I am the gate.”
That is not harsh. It is merciful. Jesus knows that not every entrance leads to life. Not every open door is good for the soul. Not every invitation deserves our trust. Some doors lead to confusion. Some lead to resentment. Some lead to sin. Some lead to a life that looks successful from the outside but feels hollow within.
Christ is the gate because He is the entrance into the life we were created for.
When we enter through Him, we begin to see differently. We begin to love differently. We begin to measure our lives not only by comfort or convenience, but by truth, mercy, faithfulness, and love.
That does not mean life becomes easy. The sheepfold is not an escape from the world. Notice that the shepherd does not only bring the sheep in. He also leads them out. He leads them to pasture. He leads them to the places where they can be fed, strengthened, and made alive.
That is what Jesus does for us. He gathers us, and then He sends us. He protects us, and then He leads us. He calls us into the safety of His love, and then He teaches us how to live with courage in the world.
This is why Sunday Mass matters so much. Here, the Shepherd gathers His flock. Here, we hear His voice in the Scriptures. Here, we are fed by His Body and Blood. Here, we remember that we do not belong to the noise of the world. We belong to Christ.
And then we are sent out again.
We return to our homes, workplaces, schools, families, and responsibilities. Not as people who have all the answers, but as people who are learning whose voice to trust. Not as people who are perfect, but as people who know where the gate is.
Today is also Good Shepherd Sunday, a day when the Church prays for vocations, especially to the priesthood and religious life. We should pray for that sincerely. The Church needs shepherds after the heart of Christ. We need priests who are not simply managers, performers, or public speakers, but men willing to walk with God’s people, teach the truth, forgive sins, anoint the sick, celebrate the Eucharist, and help people recognize the voice of Jesus.
But Good Shepherd Sunday is not only about priests. It is also about the shepherding that happens quietly in families, parishes, classrooms, hospitals, nursing homes, and ordinary friendships.
Parents shepherd their children when they teach them to pray, bring them to Mass, and show them that faith is not just a Sunday habit but a way of life. Grandparents shepherd their families when they keep faith alive by their example. Catechists, teachers, godparents, parish volunteers, and good friends share in this work whenever they help someone take one more step toward Christ.
Maybe today is also a good day to be grateful for the people who shepherded us. Someone taught us the prayers. Someone brought us to church. Someone corrected us when we needed it. Someone encouraged us when we were ready to give up. Someone’s faith made it easier for us to believe.
Most of us are here because, somewhere along the way, the voice of Christ reached us through another person. That is how God often works. The Good Shepherd uses human voices to echo His own.
So the question for us is not only, “Do I hear the voice of Jesus?” The question is also, “Does my voice help others hear Him?”
In our homes, does our voice bring peace or tension? In our parish, does our voice encourage, or does it criticize without helping? In our conversations, does our voice heal, or does it add more noise? With someone who is struggling, does our voice sound even a little like the patience of Christ?
The world has enough harsh voices, cynical voices, and voices that tear down. The Church, the family, and the parish need voices that guide people back to the Shepherd and toward the gate of life.
At the end of today’s Gospel, Jesus gives us one of the most beautiful promises in Scripture: “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.”
That is what He wants for us. Not a small life. Not a shallow life. Not a life ruled by fear, resentment, ego, or noise. An abundant life. A life rooted in Him. A life that knows where it belongs. A life that can carry burdens and still not be empty.
The lost hiker on Mount Elbert had help trying to reach him. The calls were real. The rescue was real. But he had to recognize that the voice calling him was the voice trying to save him. The same is true for us.
Christ is still calling. In the Scriptures. In the Eucharist. In prayer. In the quiet movement of conscience. In the mercy of confession. In the people who help us return to what is good and true.
And His voice does not simply call us out of danger. His voice leads us through the gate into life.
Today, let us ask for the grace to recognize that voice, to follow it with courage, and to enter more deeply through Christ, the gate, who came so that we might have life and have it abundantly.