Anna, Sophia Brotherhood
“The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.
The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep.
So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away.
Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it.
The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.”
(John 10:11–13)
Once I read a quote in the book “Conversations on Spiritual Motherhood” attributed to the late Holy Father Francis: “Every true shepherd must smell like his sheep.”
That got me thinking: what does that smell like? And what kind of spiritual father carries the fragrance of his children?
Perhaps such a father doesn’t just know their names – “Svitlana,” “Yana,” “Hryhorivna,” “Oleh” – but feels their hearts. He knows when they need to be fed with love, when to warm them beneath his epitrachelion, when to embrace them, when to give advice, and when to simply listen in silence. That’s why it brings him such joy to witness each new fruit of faith in his sons and daughters.
This kind of shepherd never forgets the one lost sheep – even when she flees and bites like a rebellious teenager. He understands: this sheep still needs to grow. He remembers the parable of the Good Shepherd, who leaves the ninety-nine to seek the one that is lost.
Sometimes that lost sheep doesn’t want to be found. She hides in deserts, sees a familiar face but doesn’t even nod hello. Then he prays, fasts, endures, and waits – always waits – at the confessional, knowing one day she’ll return on her own.
And when she finally does – one Friday evening – dirty, wounded, and weary from all the fleeing and wandering, the true shepherd doesn’t ask: “Where have you been?”, “Why did you leave?”, “What took you so long?”, “Do you understand you were wrong?”. He simply smiles gently, like Christ to Peter after the betrayal, and says: “I’m glad to see you.” And that moment will remain with her forever – because it was then that her heart began to heal in Christ.
A spiritual father also carries the scent of prayer – the kind you can’t hear behind the altar. It sounds only in the silence before the Throne, where he speaks each name without uttering a word. We don’t hear those petitions, or our names among them, but we know: behind the veil, someone is praying for us. And beyond the church walls, we don’t see his tears shed before God – for each of us.
His fragrance is unlike any perfume. It’s different… More like the grime of others, medical gauze, the sweat of ministry, and someone else’s illness (don’t worry – non-contagious ones; we all have our spiritual ailments). And of course, the scent of earth, where he cultivates his small fig trees – because each of us is like a sapling that needs to be dug around, watered, healed, and defended before the Lord with the words: “Let’s give it another year…” (Luke 13:8)
Not the most appealing scent, is it? We’re not eager to come close to such a priest – we’re used to imagining an ideal, graceful clergyman who smells like incense and wears vestments washed in a machine, not by hand.
But a shepherd who smells like his sheep may not appear kind at first glance. Yet if you touch his spiritual heart, you’ll discover more love than you expected. Not his love – but Christ’s. For He is the Source of true Agape, and whoever draws from His wounds will always carry it in his own heart. Sometimes he’s strict – like iron. Sometimes he’s silent. But even in silence, one can witness the blooming of roses of patience.
At the end of the week, such a shepherd’s battery runs dry, and the only thing his children can do is sit beside him in silence, pray for him, buy him an ice cream, and say: “We’re not letting you go – because you smell like us.”
Prayer: Lord, thank You for the shepherd who smells not of fame, but of his sheep. For the one who bears my wounds, wraps me in Your Love, and teaches me to fix my gaze on You alone – the only true Owner of the flock to which I belong. Bless him, Father, and give him strength never to grow weary of smelling like the children You entrusted to him. Amen.