"The Lord is my shepherd..." Probably as well-known and
well-loved as any phrase of scripture: the twenty-third psalm.
Generations have memorized it, in Sunday School or at the knee of
parents or grandparents. It is one of the first Bible passages
we learn, and, as often as we hear it funerals, it is among the
last words said over us when we die. A wonderful affirmation of
our faith in God's ability to protect. "The Lord is my
shepherd..."
There is an old story out there of the man who, in the midst
of a disastrous flood, took refuge on the roof of his water-filled home. With the unconquerable faith of the 23rd Psalm, he
prayed that God might rescue him; and he heard God speaking to
him, saying he would be saved. Soon after, a sheriff's deputy
came by in a small motor boat offering to get him to higher
ground. The man said no, he was staying put, because God was
coming to rescue him. "The Lord is my shepherd."
The waters continued to rise and now had come to the roof
line. Another rescue worker came, in a pontoon boat, and offered
him a ride. Again the man refused, saying God would rescue him.
"The Lord is my shepherd."
Finally the waters rose so high that even the roof was
almost submerged. A helicopter hovered in, and a rope ladder
came tumbling down. A voice from the chopper urged him to grab
hold. "No," the man shouted back. "God will save me. The Lord
is my shepherd."
The waters rose still higher, until finally the man drowned.
He arrived at the Pearly Gates, sopping wet and very angry. He
sputtered his distress to St. Peter complaining that the only
reason he was in this condition was that God had failed to keep
the promise. But before Peter had a chance to reply, from behind
the gate came a great voice thundering, "I sent you a sheriff's
deputy, I sent you a pontoon boat, I even sent you a helicopter.
What more do you want?"
"The Lord is my shepherd..." When we encountered these
verses in the lectionary last year I told you that someone has
suggested that this is a psalm of faith that covers present,
past, and future.
"The Lord IS my shepherd"...right now. Not was nor will be.
And because the Lord is looking out for me right now, "I shall
not be in want" - I have everything I need.
"He makes me lie down" - I get my proper rest because
someone who knows I need it is watching out for me. "In green
pastures" - surroundings that lend themselves to comfort and
allow me to relax, be nourished, and be myself. "He leads me" -
I do not have to find my own way; I have a trustworthy guide.
"Beside quiet waters" - because sheep cannot drink from a fast-moving stream. "He restores my soul" - when I am down, he brings
me up. "He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's
sake" - I am not ever going to be left to fend for myself, not
because I am so special, but rather this is my shepherd's nature.
I am protected simply because the shepherd is the shepherd. My
shepherd takes care of me. In the here and now.
My shepherd has taken care of me in the past. "Even though
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death"...and those
valleys do come in all our lives... "I will fear no evil; for you
are with me." Yes, the valleys have been there, and I had to
make my way through them, but I was never alone; the shepherd was
my companion. I was able to be confident in the face of
adversity. Why? "Your rod and your staff, they comfort me."
The rod was a gnarled club the shepherd used as a weapon to
defend against desert marauders, both animal and human. The
staff was the crook that could be used to rescue one who had
fallen from the path. Yes, it IS a comfort to know that your
protector has the tools at his disposal to do the protecting.
My shepherd has done such a good job that I have been able
to live with confidence even in full view of those who would
bring me down. It is as though "You prepare a [banquet] table
before me in the presence of my enemies" - they are powerless to
do anything about it; all they can do is watch. And your care
has been lavish: "You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows."
All that I could ever ask and more, my shepherd provides.
And that is why I can look to the future with such
assurance. "Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days
of my life." After all, they have been with me all along; I
cannot imagine them being gone. "And I will dwell in the house
of the LORD forever." My destiny is sure. My present, my past,
my future...secure. And all because "The LORD IS MY SHEPHERD."
Now, I suppose we could leave it at that - flows nicely,
neat little three-point package - but, in the process, you might
have noticed, we had to make some major mental leaps which make
me want to think about it again for a moment. It starts out
with, "The Lord is my shepherd," through the green pastures and
by quiet waters, through the darkest of valleys where a
shepherd's weapons offer a modicum of comfort - the writer of the
psalm seems to be envisioning himself as a sheep. OK. But then
there is the line that has the sheep celebrating being led in
paths of righteousness. Can you imagine a sheep concerned with
"righteousness?" Or, for that matter, can you envision one
ruminating over its own end in "the valley of the shadow of
death?" The words are indeed beautiful, but the logic seems
confused.
As we read further, we hear of that banquet table, the
anointing oil, and an overflowing cup. We have stepped over now
into the second half of the psalm, one which some scholars want
to say suggests that what we have in our Bible is two psalms
joined together...and questionably at that. The scene has
changed - the author is no longer a helpless sheep but now is a
human being, sitting down at table, enjoying a feast. God is no
longer shepherd, but host.
Is this two psalms in one? Or is there some better
explanation? Let me offer one - this from my good friend Carlos
Wilton who serves a Presbyterian Church on the New Jersey shore
and which originated with his Princeton Seminary Old Testament
professor, Bernhard Anderson.(1) This interpretation has its roots
in the original Hebrew. It takes a much more accomplished Hebrew
scholar than I to pick this out, but some of the newer
translations of scripture make the distinction clear. Those
translations offer different English renderings from those with
which we were nurtured in the well-known King James Version
(differences which have prompted some folks to ask me, when it
comes time to do their funerals, please read the old FAMILIAR
words - I hear the concerns).
If you have read this psalm in other versions, you may have
noticed, for instance, that we do not find, "He leadeth me in
paths of righteousness," but instead, "He leads me in right
paths." Instead of "the valley of the shadow of death," we find
"the darkest valley." The modern translators chose these English
words because they are truer to the original Hebrew. And as we
pay attention to the difference these changes make, some of this
confused logic begins to straighten out, and a whole new picture
of this psalm emerges.
Imagine, if you will, that the narrator is not picturing
himself as a sheep, but as a lost and lonely traveler. The
blazing heat of the desert noonday is long gone, and the bitter
cold of desert night is coming fast. The road has disappeared
into the twilight. Provisions of food and water ran out hours
ago, and the traveler is parched and hungry. In the distance, a
jackal howls. Fears of wild animals and bands of robbers invade
his mind. He regrets having begun this journey, and wonders if
it will be his last.
But then the traveler sees a figure on a hillside, outlined
against the darkening sky: a shepherd - a common, ordinary man,
but one who knows these hillsides and ravines. He goes down to
the weary traveler, and leads him up out of the shadowy valley to
a place where the last beams of sun still light the way ahead.
He leads the wayfarer to a grassy meadow, and invites him to lie
down and rest awhile. The shepherd cups water from the oasis
spring in his hands, and offers it. The traveler drinks and
drinks and drinks.
He glances up to see the shepherd's rod, the dangerous-looking club with which he protects the sheep, and his staff, or
walking-stick. It is comforting to see these symbols of a man
who knows his way through the desert.
When the traveler has rested a bit, the two walk on,
following "the right paths" this time, to a black goatskin tent
set amidst an encampment of other tents. These are bedouins,
dwellers in the dry and desolate places, determined people who
know how to scratch a living from the desert. They are also
outsiders to the rest of society, even outcasts. The bedouins
have their own mysterious ways, unknown to our lost traveler, who
would hardly have given them a thought if he passed them in the
town. It occurs to him that they may even be enemies, who wish
to rob or kill him.
The shepherd brings the man into his own tent. It is lit
inside with oil lamps, and decorated with carpets that are as
intricate and beautiful as the goatskin tent is plain. There is
no fear now; the laws of Middle Eastern hospitality are in
effect. As long as the traveler is in the shepherd's tent, the
shepherd is absolutely pledged to protect him from all enemies.
The two sit cross-legged at a low table, and the shepherd
spreads out a meal - a simple meal that somehow tastes better
than any our traveler has ever had: steaming lamb stew, soft pita
bread, succulent dates. In a timeless gesture of honor, the host
pours a flask of fragrant oil over the guest's head, and pours
wine into his cup until it overflows.
The fears of night have been transformed; where there might
have been aching terror, there is now serenity and trust. Such
is the power of desert hospitality. Perhaps it was this
hospitality that David (or whoever wrote this psalm) once felt.
And so moving was this experience, so unforgettable this rescue
from the very jaws of death, that the writer comes to see it as
symbolic of God's love. You see, in this vision, the bedouin
shepherd becomes not himself as he is, but an angel of the Lord.
It is somehow not he who rescues the traveler, but God. "The
Lord is my shepherd..."
This is a psalm for times when you and I are feeling lost,
helpless, alone. Perhaps it was a time of sickness or
hospitalization. Or a time when you parted from a loved one, and
felt pain so deep it seemed your life was being wrenched asunder.
It may have been a dark night of doubt, or a spell of
uncontrolled anxiety or fear. Saint or sinner, we have all been
there.
In all such experiences, it is common to feel utterly alone
and cast off, to think that certainly the world cannot possibly
know what we are going through. The message of the Psalm is that
the shepherd IS near at hand, even if we fail to sense it. And
it might even be in the person of a shepherd...or a cab driver or
a banker or a teacher or a nurse or a deputy sheriff, a mom or a
dad, or even the occasional preacher. Who knows? Keep your eyes
open.
The vision of a helping shepherd continues from the Old
Testament into the New. We hear in the New Testament that Jesus
Christ is "the great shepherd of the sheep,"(2) that he is the
caring shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine and sets out after the
one who is lost(3), that he is the "good shepherd," who knows his
sheep and even lays down his life for the sheep.(4) There is
something precious in the fact that the one exalted to rule the
universe as king is also our shepherd, who encounters us in our
private, dark desert nights, who offers cool water and a banquet
of simple camp food, who watches over us in every circumstance.
"The Lord is my shepherd..." A famous actor was once the
guest of honor at a social gathering where he received many
requests to recite favorite excerpts from various literary works.
An old preacher who happened to be there asked the actor to
recite the twenty-third Psalm. The actor agreed on the condition
that the preacher would also recite it. The actor's recitation
was beautifully intoned with great dramatic emphasis for which he
received lengthy applause. The preacher's voice was rough and
broken from many years of preaching, and his diction was anything
but polished. But when he finished there was not a dry eye in
the room. When someone asked the actor what made the difference,
he replied, "I know the psalm, but he knows the Shepherd."(5)
Know the shepherd. Know that he is nearby. Know that he
loves you. Know that he will come when you call to him in
prayer, when you are frightened, or anxious, or in pain. Then
you will be able to affirm, with the psalmist, "The Lord is MY
shepherd...Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days
of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
Amen!
1. Carlos Wilton, Point Pleasant Beach, NJ, via PresbyNet, "An Encounter with the
Shepherd," 11/25/90
2. Hebrews 13:20
3. Matthew 18:12-14
4. John 10:11
5. Bible Illustrator for Windows, diskette, (Hiawatha, IO: Parsons Technologies, 1994)
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