During seminary I worked with hospice, and I was routinely moved by the people that I visited. As a chaplain, I would offer prayer, songs, and Scripture. No matter how debilitated or far gone those folks were, they always remembered one prayer—the Lord’s Prayer—they always remembered one song—Amazing Grace—and they always remembered one Scripture—the 23rd Psalm. These pieces were just in their bones. This past Sunday we prayed the 23rd Psalm, which is a rarity on Sunday mornings for us Episcopalians because the Psalm is usually reserved for funerals. But we are blessed by its words of wisdom this week.
"The LORD is my shepherd; * I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures * and leads me beside still waters.
He revives my soul * and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; *
for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me; *
you have anointed my head with oil, and my cup is running over.
Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, *
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever."
--Psalm 23 (Book of Common Prayer translation)
There is power in this Psalm, maybe more so than in any other. It’s sacred to Jews and Christians alike, and even those who aren’t fans of organized religion are often still familiar with and moved by it. The consensus is that Psalm 23 was written around 1000 years before Jesus by King David, the onetime shepherd boy who wrote it as a hymn of praise to the God who had been his shepherd throughout his life. The kind of protection and guidance that this Psalm articulates are things for which we all have longed. The power of the Psalm, it seems, lies in its relatability for every single person.
We experience this in the very first simple, yet profound profession: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” This has some radical implications when we consider that we live in a culture that preaches to us that we are supposed to always be in want, so that someone can sell us something that we’re told we need: Power, prestige, possessions, and protections. But this statement declares that no, in fact, the Lord our God is our shepherd, and thus is the only one who can provide the real wants and necessities of life. This declaration sets the tone for the rest of the Psalm, which explicates this fundamental profession of our trust in God and God alone.
That trust itself is revolutionary when we consider the ways folks have often had the tendency to prop others up as the shepherd, pointing to them as if to say that if we follow them we’ll all be ok. Even in Israel’s own story this backfires spectacularly. Remember when the people told God they wanted a king because everyone else had one, only for God to say no – because God was their sovereign – and then for the people to demand one anyway? Remember what happened? They got Saul, who decided to do his own thing and ignore God, and for his troubles ended up dead. David himself, whom God named as Saul’s successor, fell victim to his power when he had Uriah the Hittite killed in battle so that he could steal his wife, and for that his house was cursed. And that’s just in the Bible alone! Plenty of strongmen have said (and still say!) they’re the shepherd who will supply our needs, but this Psalm says otherwise, and each verse shows how.
Verses 2 and 3 relay how God provides all the basic necessities of life. For sheep, green pastures mean food, and still waters mean drink. And to be in right paths for sheep means that danger is averted and proper shelter is attained. Thus, God is the shepherd who provides food, drink, and shelter, the basic necessities of life, to all of God’s flock. We are part of that flock, along with all creation, and it is our deepest conviction, that all our needs are provided by God, as long as remember that there’s enough for us to share.
Verse 4 is both the structural and theological center of the Psalm. At the moment of greatest threat, of greatest peril and fear, God still provides, even if all that is provided is God’s presence through the valley of the shadow of death. Perhaps this is the verse that captures so many of our hearts. Who among us hasn’t walked that path? It is the hope of the Psalmist that when we lie in greatest weakness, need, and want, God’s promise to us is an abiding, everlasting presence that will, in God’s way, deliver us. Just like the angels and prophets always proclaim in Scripture, “Be not afraid,” the Psalm puts the words on our lips and in our hearts to affirm that, no, we shall not be afraid, even in the midst of such painful and fearful times because you, O God, you are with us, comforting us with a presence that is everlasting. Oh yeah, there’s power in this verse alone!
Then the Psalm shifts to the second person and addresses God directly, reinforcing the closeness of God to each of us. YOU are with me, says the Psalmist, an affirmation of God’s abiding presence and a reminder of the closeness of our relationship to God. The word we translate as “rod” is more often used to refer to a scepter, which evokes the majesty of God. The provisions of God are reliable because God – and God alone – is sovereign, the only one to whom our allegiance is owed, and the one who, even in the darkest, most frightening moments of our lives, can never be separated from us.
Something interesting happens in the final two verses, as here the metaphor shifts from shepherd to a gracious host that invites the Psalmist into a meal in the ever-welcoming house of the Lord. As Jesus reflects in his own earthly ministry, God invites all of us into relationship with one another around a table. You see, when we gather around a table, we see one another, we look into one another’s eyes, and we share the provisions of the table with one another. It’s impossible to not be in relationship when you are eating together, even if you’re not talking! God invites the Psalmist, and us, into such a relationship – one we experience at this table – so that we can invite others into the same relationship, so that we can spread our table for a brother or sister – or even someone who troubles us – and, like the shepherd, provide for their necessities of food, drink, and shelter for others because it is, after all, Jesus, whom our Prayer Book calls the shepherd and bishop of our souls, who does this through us, our hands, feet and heart. Finally, as David was anointed as king with oil on his head, we are anointed, both with actual oil at our baptism, and with the Holy Spirit on a daily basis. These anointing give us power to know the love of such an amazing God, and it is that anointing that follows us all the days of our lives and reserves our place in the house of the Lord forever.
There is a kind of trust in this Psalm that we might call childlike, trust in one to care for us, to tell us we’re ok. Jesus says we are to receive the Kingdom as a child; that is, placing all our trust in God and with the curiosity a child has for anything to be possible. That trust is renewed each time we pray this Psalm, each time we are reminded that with the Lord Jesus as our shepherd, anything is possible and the needs of all are met. Maybe this is your favorite Psalm. Maybe it’s not. But let its wisdom guide you in the days and weeks to come, let its comfortable words give peace to your wearied soul, and let its power set your hearts ablaze with the shepherd’s love.
