Greg sent me a long post some time back from this blog, and I am just getting around to reading it now. Buried several screens into it (did I say it’s a long post?), is a soldier’s metaphor that seems to me to have some pure wisdom in it.

This apparently comes from an introduction to a seminar called “The Bulletproof Mind”:

One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me: “Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident.”

This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another. …

“Then there are the wolves,” the old war veteran said, “and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy.” Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial.

“Then there are sheepdogs,” he went on, “and I’m a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf.” Or, as a sign in one California law enforcement agency put it, “We intimidate those who intimidate others.” …

Let me expand on this old soldier’s excellent model of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial; that is what makes them sheep. … The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, cannot and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheepdog that intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours.

Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn’t tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports in camouflage fatigues holding an M-16. The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, “Baa.” Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog.

You certainly could take that idea and apply it to different ways that people act in a crisis such as the war in Iraq or the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, and this is what the author of the post did with great success (though he gets a little more passionate on the subject than I’m quite comfortable with).

But this metaphor seems to me to apply also to the role of the Christian Church in our culture and perhaps to some degree to the perception of God. Think of how much the Church has been marginalized, how its voice has been muted by squeals of insensitivity and accusations of witch-hunting and hypocrisy. Think of how God has been feminized in progressive new versions of the Bible, how many times people tell the story of Jesus and the woman caught in adultery (without remembering that He told her to “sin no more”) and how rarely they tell of him chasing the moneychangers out of the temple.

And think of how people tend to want their clergymen (and, in some cases of course, clergywomen) to act. They don’t want them to tell them anything bad about themselves. They don’t want them to admonish from the pulpit, only encourage. The Orthodox idea of a spiritual father is well out of step with the vague ghost of a minister or pastor that Americans seem to prefer. (And it has gotten worse in my lifetime. Dear Abby used to frequently refer people with serious problems to seek the counsel of their pastor. She doesn’t do that anymore, because most people would think it a weird idea to give their pastor that much of a say in their “private” life.)

The spiritual father tells you things, and sometimes — often — they aren’t what you wanted to hear. When you offer him confession, you don’t get a hug … well, at least not first. You get something much more important. You get a response, you get intelligent course correction from someone entrusted by God to do just that.

I’m not saying that the priest speaks perfect wisdom directly from God’s heart. That’s not the Orthodox understanding. But then, if he ever did, am I arrogant enough to believe that I would be able to understand one word of it?

A spiritual father doesn’t need to be perfect, because I’m not perfect. But he has to be a sheepdog. He has to have teeth and claws, because my Enemy has teeth and claws.

People these days aren’t comfortable with that view of the Church. But then, an awful lot of sheep have been disappearing in the night recently.