A church in northeastern Pennsylvania worships around a Good Shepherd window in the sanctuary. The window is constructed from rippled stained glass. As the light changes, there is depth, beauty and rich hues of color. The window is located immediately behind the pulpit, and that’s a good idea, too. If the church members can look through the preacher, they see Jesus. The Shepherd presides over a flock of dull–looking sheep. There’s no question who he is. An empty cross stands in the background, and this Shepherd has the familiar wounds in his hands and feet.

But here is the most curious detail about the figure in that window: whenever anybody looks at him, his eyes do not return the gaze. Instead, he is watching his sheep.

It can be disconcerting, so much so that some worshipers confess to looking away. Most people might expect a measure of eye contact from the figures in our stained–glass windows. Yet that portrait of Jesus has no interest in returning the gaze. Neither does he look sideways, as if angling up toward heaven. He is completely devoted to his sheep. Nothing will disrupt his focus or distract his attention. He does not appear threatened by pressing demands or burdened by responsibility. The Shepherd knows his flock. He will do anything for them, even if it means laying down his life.