Fourth Sunday of Easter (Good Shepherd Sunday)
26 April 2026
The Gate
My grandparents owned a farm of about 350 acres. My family visited a lot, so I got to play in the barn and the fields. I remember once, when I was 12, I tried to walk through a gate that was very clearly… not open. It was one of those farm-style gates—simple, obvious, not complicated. But instead of just unlatching it like a normal person, I thought, “I can squeeze through the opening.” Even then, I was portly. So I turned sideways… sucked in a little… and tried to shimmy past it. Didn’t work. I got stuck.
Now I’m halfway through a gate I should’ve just opened, and hoping no one is watching… my brothers and cousins would have never let me hear the end of that one had they saw me. Finally, I step back, lift the latch, swing it open… and walk through like a normal human being. It took about three seconds. And I remember thinking, “Why did I make that so much harder than it needed to be?”
And that’s exactly what Jesus is getting at in the Gospel today. We try to force our way into life… in every possible way… except the one way that actually works.
There’s a moment in the Gospel today that is easy to miss if we move too quickly past it. Jesus says, “Amen, amen, I say to you, I am the gate for the sheep.” Not just the shepherd. The gate. And that’s strange, until you realize what’s actually happening in the scene.
Because this isn’t a random teaching. It’s a response.
If you go just one chapter earlier, Jesus has healed the man born blind. He has restored his sight. He has brought light into his life. And what do the religious leaders do? They interrogate him. They pressure him. And then throw him out of the fold. And then Jesus goes and finds him.
That’s the action. That’s the movement. A man is rejected by the leaders of Israel… and then personally sought out and received by Jesus. And it’s right after that moment that Jesus begins to speak about shepherds, thieves, and the sheepfold.
So when He says, “I am the gate,” He’s not speaking in the abstract. He’s interpreting what just happened. He’s saying: That man didn’t lose his place with God when he was cast out. He found it.
Now, if we step back and look at this, we see something even deeper. This moment isn’t just about one man. It’s the culmination of a long story. All throughout the Old Testament, God speaks about His people as sheep, and their leaders as shepherds. And again and again, those shepherds fail.
Through the prophet Ezekiel, God says: “Woe to the shepherds who have been pasturing themselves!” They scatter the sheep. They neglect the weak. They use the flock instead of serving it. And then God makes a promise: I myself will shepherd my people.
And now in the Gospel today, Jesus steps into that story and says, That promise? That’s me. Not just a better leader. Not just a reformer. He is God come to shepherd His people.
But then He says something even more radical. He says, “I am the gate.” Which means: He is not only the one who leads the sheep, He is the one through whom the sheep enter into life at all.
Think about what a gate does. A gate defines access. It answers the question: How do you get in? And Jesus is saying: There is only one way into the life of God, into the safety of the flock, into the pasture where there is real life, and it is through Him. Not through status. Not through self-justification. Not through being “good enough.” Not through doing it ourselves. Through Him.
And here’s where the Gospel becomes very concrete for us… entering through the gate is not just a metaphor. It actually happens. It happens in Baptism, where we are brought into Christ, into His Body, into His flock. It continues in the Eucharist, where the Shepherd doesn’t just lead us, He feeds us. It continues in the life of the Church, where His voice is not just an interior feeling, but something we actually hear, in Scripture, in preaching, in the sacramental life.
So when Jesus says, “Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture,” He’s describing a real life. A lived life. A life of grace.
Now contrast that with the other figure in the Gospel. “The thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy.” Notice the progression. Steal. Slaughter. Destroy. That’s what false shepherds do. They take. They diminish. They ultimately lead to death.
And here’s the hard truth: not all false shepherds look obviously evil. Sometimes they look like voices we trust. Sometimes they sound like the culture around us. Sometimes they even echo things we want to hear. But Jesus gives us the test: Does it lead to life? Or does it, over time, take life away?
Because Jesus says: “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.” That’s the difference. Not just existence. Not just survival. Abundant life.
And that brings us to the question at the heart of this Gospel. Whose voice are we actually following? Because the sheep, Jesus says, hear His voice.
Now, this is where we have to be careful. It would be easy to hear that and think, “Well, either you hear it or you don’t.” But the reality is more dynamic than that. The voice of the Shepherd is truly given. His grace is real. But we have to learn to recognize it. We have to become the kind of people who can hear it. That’s a relationship. That’s familiarity. That’s time spent with Him.
And that’s why the Christian life is not just about believing something about Jesus, it’s about staying close enough to Him that His voice becomes recognizable.
Look again at what happened to the man born blind. He didn’t start out knowing everything about Jesus. At first, he just knows: “The man called Jesus made clay…” Then: “He is a prophet.” Then finally: “Lord, I believe.”
That’s the movement. He hears. He responds. He comes to see more clearly. That’s what it means to follow the Shepherd. Not instant perfection. But a real, grace-filled response that deepens over time.
And notice this: the man was cast out before he was fully formed. He was rejected before he had everything figured out. But Jesus didn’t wait until he was perfect to find him. He went after him.
That’s the heart of the Gospel. The Shepherd seeks. The Gate opens. Life is given.
We are not outside trying to find our way in. The Gate is open. Christ has made a way. The question is not whether access is available. The question is whether we are actually entering, actually remaining, actually living within His flock.
Are we listening for His voice or are we being shaped by other voices? Are we living from the life He gives or settling for something less?
Because the promise is not small. “I came so that they might have life.” Not later. Now. Not barely. Abundantly.
And that life is found in one place.
Through. Him.