Some of us wrote the words on flash cards because we had to memorize them for Sunday School decades ago. At the time, though we could scarcely believe it, we were told that one day we would be glad we knew the 23rdPsalm by heart. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want…”And those teachers were probably right.
After all, we have listened to the familiar rhythm of its phrases or even silently read the words off the prayer cards that the funeral director handed out as we signed the guestbook . “ Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me…”
We might recall movie actors reciting phrases from this most well-known of all the psalms during scenes of overwhelming crisis and impending death. As the decks of the great unsinkable ocean liner flood, and the ship begins to sink in “Titanic”: “For thou art with me…” Spoken by frightened soldiers about to go into battle or by commanding officers seeking to inspire confidence in new recruits, the words of the Psalm crop up in “Jarhead” and “Full Metal Jacket”: “He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness….I will fear no evil…”
Bibles are left open to these verses in hospital rooms and next to nursing home beds as a patient or resident reaches the end of the line and is nearing death. “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”
In those circumstances, we who whisper the familiar words we memorized so long ago do so, of course, in the hope that they will undergird our parent or child or friend as each one moves from this life to whatever it is that comes next. “And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever….”
I think it is a shame that this 23rdPsalm is so closely associated with dying, even though untold millions have found comfort at deathbeds and funerals - which, of course, is not a bad thing. However, this psalm is really one of affirmation. In the end, it is a psalm of life and provides direction for us today while we are living, not after we are dead. If we only consider it in the midst of death, we are missing its power to shape us and even transform us now, today, while we live.
That being said, of course, what can a preacher preach about these familiar words that has not already been said before? Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann in his book, The Message of the Psalms, begins his commentary on Psalm 23 with these words: "It is almost pretentious to comment on this psalm. The grip it has on biblical spirituality is deep and genuine. It is such a simple statement that it can bear its own witness without comment.” His words are perhaps a slightly more eloquent declaration than the one Joe expressed when he asked me earlier in the week what I could possibly say about the 23rdPsalm in today’s sermon.
And yet, here I am – your pastor and teacher – commenting on these familiar words. However, maybe I do so not to offer you a unique insight – an aha moment - but rather to remind you of two things that have always stood out for me when reflecting on this psalm. The first is its message of hope grounded in its firm declaration of our abiding relationship with God. The second is the direction it offers us in the tangled, busy, stress filled, and often fearful times we live in.
Within the opening words of the psalm lies its message of hope. “The Lord is my shepherd…”It is funny how we often emphasize the word “shepherd” rather than “Lord” when we recite the familiar words. “The Lord is my Shepherd” we often say and seldom “The Lord is my shepherd.”
And yet, for the writer of the Psalm, what was important was who the shepherd was, and it was not the kings or monarchs of ancient Israel though they were often described as shepherds. The Lordis my shepherd was a bold declaration. And likewise for us, in the end it is not the presidents and political leaders of today that we, like sheep, are called to follow. No - the Lordis my shepherd.
In other words, God/the Lord is my protector and the one I tag along after. God/the Lord is the one in whom I put my trust. God/the Lord is the one who will give each one of us all we need for a rich and meaningful life. God/the Lord is the one who will hold out a hand and lead us home. God/the Lord is my shepherd.
It is as Rabbi Harold Kushner said in an interview with “Religion and Ethics Newsweekly”: “People who have been hurt by life get stuck in ‘the valley of the shadow,’ and they don’t know how to find their way out. And that’s the role of God. The role of God is not to explain and not to justify but to comfort, to find people when they are living in darkness, take them by the hand, and show them how to find their way into the sunlight again.” The Lordis my shepherd. It is that intimate and personal relationship that we have with God that is so beautifully proclaimed – albeit in a most subtle way – in this Psalm.
If you had ever studied Hebrew, you would have discovered that a profound theological shift takes place in the very middle of this Psalm. You see, in the original Hebrew, there are exactly twenty-six words before the statement “You are with me” (or “Thou art with me.”) and twenty-six words after it.
Prior to that verse, the Shepherd is referred to in the third person. “He makes me to lie down…He leads me beside the still waters….He restores my soul.” Then suddenly the syntax changes - right smack in the middle of the psalm . Much to the horror of strict grammar nerds and English majors, the Psalmist no longer refers to the Shepherd – to God –in the third person. The Psalmist refers to the Holy One as “you”. “You are with me….”You prepare a table before me…”
That subtle switch in grammar puts a whole new slant on our relationship with God. In a single wording change, our relationship is transformed into an intimate and personal one – a relationship of “you” and “me” . We are like a couple – us and God. We have the kind of relationship where we can look into one another’s eyes and hold one another’s hands.
For me, that you/me or I/thou relationship we have with God is transformative. You see, for us who say we are Christians, through Jesus, we embark on a new relationship – one that is so very hopeful. When we find ourselves weak and in the dark and uncertain about our future or the future of our world, when all the color of life is drained, and we are left with only gray, when our very souls are downcast, in this psalm we find a nugget of hope. We are like the spiders of which poet Mary Sarten wrote: “Spiders are patient weavers. They never give up. Who knows what keeps them at it? Hunger, no doubt. And hope.”
And so, if you have come to worship this morning needing to have your soul painted in the restorative green of quiet meadows, needing to get your life back after a particularly trying week, needing to be washed in quiet pools of hope, needing to find the silence and meditative time we promised ourselves during these Sundays in Lent, this psalm invites you to savor and relish the imagery of verdant pastures and still waters. The Lordis my shepherd. There is food – good food – for the soul embodied in this psalm. So – you who need to – eat – and eat heartily!
After all, what more could any of us want than the assurance that God is ever present, that there is, somewhere, rest for our weary souls? As Presbyterian pastor Shannon Kershner writes, “Clearly this claim at the center of the psalm, this promise that no matter what, the Shepherd, the only One in whom we trust, will never abandon us, not even in the most dangerous places—this is to be the promise in which we ground our lives.” The Lord is my shepherd.
However, if you are one who needs more than rest, if you have come to worship this morning seeking a new direction, a path forward, this psalm is for you as well. We can dig deeper into our reflection on these familiar words by noting as Kerscher points out: “But not only does the Shepherd lead us through dangerous places (she writes), but when God is present in the shadow of death, in the dark valley, things change. The valley is transformed.”
Following all the comforting language about lush green meadows and quiet pools of water, words that are a powerful invitation for self-care in a crazy busy world, the psalmist offers the more disturbing image of a banquet, a five star meal in a five star restaurant – partaken in the presence of enemies. In my mind’s eye, I had always pictured this scenario as a long wooden table set in the middle of some dust-blown battlefield, the casualties hygienically removed to hospitals or MASH units or morgues, and we sitting about the table feeling ever so brave because here we are eating in the presence of our enemies, in the presence of those we hate or fear or have not taken the time to understand, even those we have become disconnected from for whatever the reason over the years, all of them at a distance looking on, hungering as much as we had been hungering.
This week, however, I read an essay by Eric Eines, who wrote in part: “Do you really think that God would welcome us to a table where we get to flaunt our pleasure in front of our enemies as if a bit of gloating … would be good for our souls? No, that wouldn’t be in keeping with the God of extravagant welcome and outrageous hospitality whom we see everywhere else in scripture. Indeed, if we were to hoard the bounty for ourselves, Goodness and Mercy following us all the days of our lives would surely feel like stalking wouldn’t it?”
I am almost embarrassed to admit that for so long I had read this part of the psalm so differently. What if this table is set not only for us but for our enemies (or at least those who are not our friends) as well? What if we were called to share a meal with the Muslim we have been taught to hate as a terrorist , with the Guatemalan refugee family we fear as drug dealers and rapists, with the elderly woman with dementia who needs her Depends changed, with the old bald homeless guy who smells? And what about the people we have simply been too busy to connect with and be present for? What if all those people were seated around the banquet table imagined in the psalm with us. After all, we do not always get to choose who is invited to the table.
Would such a scenario change the way we think about those with whom we might make a connection? After all, it is hard to hate or fear or ignore over filet mignon and a good bottle of Beaujolais. Surely God would be there too….because….well, because the Psalmist tells us that the Shepherd has become a gracious host., calling us and our enemies to dine together, turning our fear into celebration and even joy.
It will not easy sitting at that table not knowing who will show up. I am not sure how I would actually do in some of those situations. I am not even sure that a meal with those we have no connection with would even work, but I have to hope and trust that it would be a start.
Some of us will surely get up from the table before the appetizers arrive, so unappealing is the company – and so unorthodox the cutlery (which we will get to in a minute). However, some of us will stay and be curious about how this meal will work out. You see, as Eric Eines described that table, “I think that the place setting at the table set before us in the presence of our enemies consists of long spoons and long forks. It forces us to choose between heaven and hell . We can look at the delectable food and starve because we are unable to feed ourselves and unwilling to feed our enemies. Or we can share the bounty of the green pastures and still waters (by feeding one another).
Sure, just because we use our long spoons to offer food to the enemy does not assure that the enemy will offer food in return on his or her long spoon, but if there is to be any hope, it surely rests in offering nourishment not withholding it.”
Perhaps that is the challenge of this 23rdPsalm, all the while embedded in its imagery of solace and rest. Perhaps that is why this psalm is a psalm of life, not death, because it offers us not only comfort and hope, but also direction. In finding rest and sustenance for our own souls, we also are given an opportunity to offer the same to the souls of those we meet and too often unknowingly discard along the way.
No comments:
Post a Comment