Like Sheep Without a Shepherd
There are some words of Jesus that seem especially at home in the valleys around Rydal Hall. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus looks at the crowds with compassion because they are “like sheep without a shepherd.”
Shepherding in the Fells
Here, that image is more than a metaphor. Shepherding is woven into the life of the fells. Anyone who has spent time with Lakeland farmers knows that good shepherds possess remarkable gifts. They know every contour of the hillside, every change in the weather, every flock’s familiar habits. Recent stories about local shepherds have reminded us that this work is shaped by patience, attentiveness and faithful care. At the same time, recent tensions between farming and tourism have shown how deeply people care about this landscape. That is true even when different responsibilities and expectations collide.
Perhaps Jesus’ words speak most clearly precisely because of this.
Like Sheep Without a Shepherd Today
We all know moments of feeling like sheep without a shepherd. Perhaps grief reshapes the familiar, or the future feels uncertain, or we long to know where we truly belong. Those experiences are part of being human. Before Jesus offers answers, he offers compassion. He sees people as they are, with tenderness and hope.
That is the heart of the Gospel.
The Good Shepherd
Jesus describes himself as the Good Shepherd. He gathers people into a life of trust, peace and belonging. He knows each of us by name, just as a Lakeland shepherd knows the sheep entrusted to their care. He leads with wisdom, patience and unfailing love. His concern extends across every boundary: resident and visitor, farmer and walker, neighbour and stranger. He draws us all into one flock under one Shepherd.
As chaplain here at Rydal Hall, I pray for everyone who comes through these grounds, whether for an hour or a lifetime. May they glimpse something of that shepherding love. For in Christ we meet the One who knows every path we walk, calls us by name, and gently leads us home.
