Loading...What does he mean? I just don’t understand. Why can’t Jesus speak plainly? The people in today’s Gospel do not understand the figure of speech Jesus uses. Even today, we just might not understand.
We try, don’t we? We show up for church, listen to the lessons from a three-year liturgical cycle, which someone long ago thought we needed to hear. We hope to learn and grow and be fed by Scripture. But it isn’t perfect, and we sometimes are left scratching our heads, bewildered by it all. As a result, we, like the listeners in today’s Gospel, just might not understand.
When it comes to some of our favorite stories, we sometimes, maybe often, think we know what they mean. We find comfort in familiar words, resting in the rhythm, the cadence, the language that fills us with memories of days gone by or people from another time.
Even if we have never dug deeply into the story, we need the comfort of the repetition to ground us, especially in lonely, trying, or frightening times. Especially when life is good and hopeful.
Today, we are given the gift of the familiarity of sheep. And while we did not read it, we sang and will hear another choral offering at the offertory of the 23rd Psalm. It is likely the most familiar of all Psalms, no matter who hears it.
I generally don’t like to preach on this one, because of all the nostalgia we bring to it. We’ve heard it in funerals, at least once a year in our Sunday readings, it is referred to in films and television programs, there are songs, poems, works of art, and so, so many commentaries on it. It feels like we all should deeply understand it.
But maybe it’s the nostalgia we understand.
The nostalgia that comes with the soft, fuzzy memories of people we have buried. The nostalgia—that sigh of relief—when something so comfortable is a part of the liturgy. The nostalgia of feeling connected to God and to our loved ones.
It’s hard to preach on something that is held so dear by so many. But I’m going to try. If you’d like to have the Psalm open, you’ll find it on page 612 in the Book of Common Prayer.
This Psalm feels like the perfect prayer. It begins with the acknowledgement of dependence on God. The Lord is my shepherd is a reference to God because the Psalms are in the Hebrew Bible. Jesus comes later.
I shall not be in want. In other words, I lack nothing. God is the giver of all that is needed for survival, for community, for relationships. Whether we have any experience with sheep or not, we find comfort in knowing that a shepherd will not abandon the sheep. The shepherd will know the sheep in their care, and the sheep will know the voice of their shepherd.
It is this relationship Jesus is speaking of in today’s Gospel. Sheep may be considered dumb animals, but they do know the voice of their shepherd. They know who they can trust with their lives. They won’t stray too far, and if they do, the shepherd will not abandon them. They know their shepherd will make sure they are fed, watered, well rested, and safe.
The Lord, God, knows us by name, provides for us, and we will lack nothing. When we identify that God is the one we will trust with our lives, and we will trust God to provide for us, we are making a very simple and a very complex statement of faith. We are, to the best of our ability, saying we will give up our dependence on ourselves.
I’m not saying that we have no responsibility for our well-being. I am saying that we, as people of God, recognize that all that we are and all that we have is because God prepared this creation to fulfill our needs. It is up to us to use it well and to give thanks.
He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. Depending on the translation, this line can either end here or go on to include He revives my soul. Either can work, but I think placing a semi-colon after waters instead of a period makes more sense here. God ensures we rest; God ensures we have safe, fresh, or in other words, still, water—both are ways for our bodies and souls to find refreshment, to be revived for whatever we are to encounter.
I find this to be a comforting image. God wants us to find balance in our lives through Sabbath rest. Which is important, especially when the next few lines are filled with the complexities of living life in community with other humans.
God guides me along right pathways for his Name’s sake. I had never really considered this image, but when I was reading a variety of commentaries, this memory from my childhood stuck out.
My dad’s grandparents lived at the end of a dirt road. It was one of those roads where the wheels from the cars, pick up trucks, tractors and trailers made deep ruts. Those ruts were unforgiving. My dad would have to navigate carefully when driving on that road. He would have to stay in the ruts, hoping that they were not so deep the undercarriage would scrape. It was always a bumpy adventure, and probably more nerve-wracking for my parents than it was for us kids in the back of the Travel-all.
The deep ruts are a great way to consider what the Psalmist means when he writes about “right pathways.” God has a plan, a path, that keeps us secure in our faith walk. If we are on the right pathway, following the course, driving in the ruts, so to speak, we won’t deviate. We will hopefully remain out of harm’s way. But of course, we are human, and we sometimes get off course. And that’s where the next part of the Psalm comes in.
We’re halfway through, and we’ve recognized the good parts of living these lives under the shelter of God’s wing, but now, we must pay attention to what happens when we least expect it.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death… Sometimes life can be frightening whether we have anything to do with it or not. We are, sometimes, collateral damage that comes with living in communities. We are, sometimes, reckless in our decisions. We are, sometimes, overcome, overworked, overwhelmed, as a part of life. And then there are times when we encounter illness, pain, death and grief, and need help to get through it. We may believe that we are alone in these times, we may forget that we are not.
Because, with God’s help, we can remember in the words from this Psalm that I shall fear no evil; for you are with me.
We need to be cautious with the word “evil,” I think. In the simplest of terms, evil can be described as anything that takes us away from our relationship with God. But we also know that there are systems, circumstances, and sometimes people that are dangerous. It can be easy to slide into a sense of fear when we do not feel we have a voice, or when everything seems to be out of control all at once. There can be a healthy sense of evil—that kind that keeps us aware, informed and alert—that might not lead to fear, but helps keep us safe.
The important thing in this is that no matter what, we need to remember that God is with us. We will not be abandoned, lost, or forgotten. Our ability to manage the unexpected, unwanted, uncontrollable, comes from trusting that God is present and will not leave us.
It is comforting to know that the staff a shepherd carries is designed to both guide and protect. …your rod and your staff—they comfort me. A verger, like Joe and Dan, carry what is called a “verge”—that stick that was once used to move animals out of the way so parishioners could gather for worship. They are used to poke and prod, to correct bad behavior, to keep the animals safely together. These days, the verge is used to guide the procession, to direct people to their seats, to lead the readers to the lectern.
We often need to be guided to where we need to go. Sometimes we need to be gently poked or touched to stay where we need to be. Other times, we just might need to have that crook at the top of a shepherd’s staff to yank us back when we go astray.
These are tools to help us remain in community with one another. They are the rules put in place to keep us safe. They are the bylaws and the canons that guide our decisions. We may not always like them or want to follow them, but even so, we can find comfort in them because they set us on the path to follow God.
The next verses of this beloved Psalm are about abundance. Even when we are surrounded by the people or circumstances that can lead us away from recognizing the depth of God’s love for us, we will still be fed, nourished, and cared for by our God.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
We are God’s people who strive to follow the ways of Jesus. Jesus spent his whole ministry showing us what it means and what it looks like to live lives that reflect God’s love.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus identifies himself as a shepherd and a gate. He embodies the role of the shepherd, of God, in his commitment to caring for the sheep, the people of his pasture, through his teaching, protecting, and guiding us to trust our whole lives to God.
He describes himself as the gate, as the way in and out of the sheepfold. In the darkness, in the company of many herds, led by many shepherds, here, at night, when danger is the most present, the herds are safe. The gate, which is not a physical door, but is the individual who lays across the passage into and out of the sheepfold, welcomes them in at dusk and then sends them out at dawn, knowing that as each shepherd calls for their sheep the sheep will know who to follow.
Jesus says he is the gate. He is God at the Entrance. G-A-T-E. God at the Entrance. He is the way in and the way out. He teaches that he is present in this world to ensure that those who follow God will remember God’s blessing and abundance in the Psalmist’s words you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
And in today’s Gospel, he reiterates that when he says, I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.
This overflowing cup, this abundance, is not about stuff or wealth. It is about believing in the extravagant, over and above, more-than-is-necessary love from our Creator.
It is knowing that when we live in the knowledge of God’s presence in our life, when we recognize the depth of God’s love for us, even when we are afraid, or make bad choices, even when life could not get any better, God’s goodness and mercy shall follow [us] all the days of [our lives],
You see, it is the perfect prayer. It begins with reverence to God, it acknowledges our need for God, it recognizes God’s presence in our lives, and it identifies the goodness and abundance of God. And then, it gives God our assurance that, trusting in this symbiotic relationship, we shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Please pray Psalm 23 with me (page 612).
1 The Lord is my shepherd; * I shall not be in want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures * and leads me beside still waters.
3 He revives my soul * and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake.
4 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.
5 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.
6 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.
Amen.
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