THIS is a shepherd-heavy Sunday. It brings challenges for those who are less familiar with shepherding than were people in Bible times. Bishops are required to be “pastors” (the Latin word for shepherds), remembering that the shepherd stands for God in the Old Testament, and for Christ in the New.

What the Jeremiah reading reveals, though, is that not all shepherds are good shepherds. Scholars argue whether this condemnation opens with criticism about the bad shepherds (so NRSV here, 23.1) or directly addresses them (“you shepherds”). Either way, the condemnation of the shepherds is probably a general reference to the kings of Judah rather than specifically to the weak king Zedekiah.

Ambivalence about having human kings to rule God’s people has been evident from the beginning; for not even Saul, David, and Solomon were free from error and sin. When human shepherds have failed (not surprisingly, given that God himself is the agent of the exile, 23.3), God pledges to step in.

The immediate reference is to a return from exile in Babylon; but time has given it a deeper significance, referring to the end of time, when the faithful are shepherded together after their dispersion. This holds a promise for Jews and Christians alike.

Today, calling people “sheep” is not a compliment. Sheep are silly. They can eat themselves to death. They walk in front of cars when roaming free. They startle at the slightest thing. They follow a leader unthinkingly, which is a behaviour no human being wants to be charged with. Yet many of us secretly prefer to be followers rather than leaders. It brings a certain freedom, despite the risks if you put your faith in the wrong person.

When Jesus has compassion on the crowd, we are told that he sees them as “sheep without a shepherd” (v.34). The truth is that, whereas hitherto they may have been just that, right now they are certain that they have found their shepherd. They are determined to follow him, even when he is (to put it politely) somewhat evasive.

Their plight elicits a reaction, as it ought: esplanchnisthe says the Greek — he “had compassion” on them. That sounds as if he is regarding them sympathetically. But the Greek follows the physicality of Hebrew emotion; for splanchna are “guts”, and that is where compassion hits us. The canticle Benedictus tells us that God, too, has splanchna of mercy (Luke 1.78).

True compassion is something that we feel in our inmost selves, where our heart beats faster and our stomach churns as we react to the needs of others. It is a godlike response to weakness or vulnerability, the opposite of Nietzschean superiority and contempt. It is a sign that the crowd have judged correctly that, when their determination to reach the Good Shepherd enables them to find him, despite his own need (and his disciples’) for solitude, he does not turn them away.

Standing somewhat apart from the other lections is the reading from Ephesians. It is not about God or Christ as shepherd. There is no trace of the nomadic, pastoral lifestyle so important to God’s ancient people that it persisted as a symbol into a time of settlement and agriculture. Instead, we have an image from that time: a building made by human hands for God.

To honour one’s god with a monumental building was so ubiquitous in the ancient world that it must have seemed natural: Egypt, Greece, Rome, and Persia all built massive architectural structures to induce awe in those who saw them. The Israelites followed suit with the Jerusalem temple, similarly monumental and awe-inspiring.

Waves of invasion and destruction in Jerusalem over centuries meant that buildings came to seem inadequate symbols for the steadfastness of God. They were a temptation to put trust in what seemed strong and stable rather than what was invisible and (apparently) less reliable.

Ephesians combines aspects of both these attitudes, by exploring the idea of a building not made by human hands, but consisting of human beings. The foundation is apostles and prophets. The cornerstone is Christ. These are not dead but living stones; for they grow (v.21; see also 1 Peter 2.5). Indeed, they grow together. God’s temple is the place where he dwells — and, under the new covenant, who are the living, growing stones from which that temple is constructed? We are.