“I am the good shepherd …”
Psalm 23; John 10:11-18 (April 21, 2024)
On Canada’s East Coast there is an island called Grand Manan. When our children were young, we used to vacation there. It was a long drive from Ontario, where we lived. It’s even farther from Saskatchewan. It’s been years since we’ve been back. But we have fond memories of that place. And one of them has to do with hiking along the coast. There’s a network of trails around the island.
One section of trail goes past this natural feature: Can you see the white rocks scattered above the shoreline? The locals call it “the flock of sheep” - so named by fishers on their boats because, from a distance, they resembled sheep grazing at the edge of the water. Of course the giveaway, the thing that tells you these really aren’t sheep, is they never move. They stay in the same place day after day, year after year.
They’re not like the flock that God shepherds, the flock which is you and me. The stones are not living. They don’t get hungry – they need no pasture. They have no enemies – they need no protection. No guidance, no rest, no comfort, no care.
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People of faith know God’s loving care in their lives each and every day. In fact, we cannot live without it. We need God’s love especially when we walk through dark valleys: Whenever we feel lost, or afraid. When we are tired. When we are grieving. We need to know that God is with us.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want …” We sang the words of that Psalm just a few minutes ago. They’ve been set to some lovely melodies over the years, but the one we just sang, “Crimond,” may be one of the most familiar.
“The Lord’s my shepherd, I’ll not want,
He makes me down to lie
in pastures green, he leadeth me
the quiet waters by.”
My earliest memory of this Psalm (which, by the way, lies behind the words of Jesus in our Gospel reading,) is sitting at the breakfast table with Aunt Jean and Uncle Donald. I spent summer holidays with them on the farm. And they thought it would be good for me to learn this Psalm.
So in the morning, when breakfast was finished, I would say to them as much as I could by memory. And they would correct me. And the next day we’d do it all again. By the end of the holiday I had it down. And I’ve never, for a moment in my life, regretted it!
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Do you recall when you first heard it? Or a special moment when it was used? Perhaps you overheard others. Or maybe you said it yourself – as I have,
on so many occasions. At a funeral service as mourners try to make sense of death or find a source of consolation in their hour of need. In the hospital, when I go to visit and, if it seems the right thing to do, I will ask if I could read scripture. “Anything in particular?” Often it is this. And once or twice it’s been me, lying in that hospital bed, searching for words that remind me I am not alone. That the one who made me is with me, even in that lonely place.
The Psalm has been especially significant when I have had big decisions to make, and I’m searching for the way and cannot see it. Yet I am called to trust that the Shepherd is there to guide me. One who leads me in right paths for his own name’s sake. One who wants only what is good for me, and all the sheep who are part of God’s flock.
I have a hunch that the 23rd Psalm may be the most beloved passage in the whole Bible. Even for those who never step inside a church. This may be the only scripture they can identify. It speaks to us. It speaks to them. They’ve heard it somewhere before.
There’s something good about simple repetition, isn’t there? Hearing it over and over. In this place and that. Like memorizing a piece of music. We go over it until it becomes internalized and imbedded within us. This Shepherd God finds a way to dwell within our lives. And to stay there. So that when we need God, God is not far away.
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Do you know what’s at the very centre of the 23rd Psalm? I’m speaking, first of all, about the literary centre of it. What do we find there, at the heart of this familiar passage?
It’s this line: “You are with me.” There are 26 Hebrew words before it, and 26 that follow after.[1] But there, precisely in the middle of the Psalm, we find this line.
Our Shepherd God provides for us in many ways: green pastures, still waters. A table set before us. A cup that overflows. All these wonderful promises! And each one is worth holding onto, pondering and treasuring in our hearts. But the line at the very centre is this: “You are with me.”
And it strikes me that it’s not only the literary centre of the Psalm, but the theological one as well. God is with us! Is there any greater assurance than that? Wherever we are – whether our pasture is green and lush – or dry and spent. Whether our cup is filled to overflowing – or completely empty. Whether the valley we’re walking through is bright with sunshine and optimism – or dark with clouds and despair. We will fear no evil, “For Thou art with me.”
You’re with me God! I’m not alone. There is no place in our lives – either individually or collectively – that our loving God is not present. God is right here with us. Even through the valley of the shadow of death. That valley comes to all of us. Jesus walked there too.
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There’s something else I want you to notice about that line. The voice of the Psalmist changes. Up until this point we’ve been learning about God: “The Lord is my shepherd.” He makes me lie down. He leads me. He restores my soul.
The Psalmist speaks in the third person. (For those of you who have forgotten your rules of grammar, “third person” means we’re talking about someone or something else.) The Psalmist is speaking about God. And we are being instructed in the ways of God.
But now there’s a change that takes place. So the language is no longer “third person.” It addresses God directly. (I always wanted to be an English teacher – can you tell?) But why is this significant? Here’s the thing: This is the place where the 23rd Psalm becomes a prayer!
Now the Psalmist speaks to God. This is the language of conversation, one on one. This is the language of intimacy and love. This is not about a God out there. But a God right here. “You are with me; your rod, your staff, they comfort me.”
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Fred Kane tells a wonderful story about a British-American actor name Charles Laughton. He was famous for his ability to recite biblical texts. He had a beautiful voice and his timing and intonation were impeccable.
At a dinner party one evening, Laughton was called upon to recite the 23rd Psalm, which he did. Then they went around the room and others were invited to offer something as well.
There was an older woman sitting in the corner. She was nearly deaf ,so she hadn’t heard what had gone before. She stood up and started to repeat what the actor had just performed. It was embarrassing, an awkward situation.
Yet before she finished, those in the room were swept up by the power of it. Some even began to weep. Afterwards, someone asked the actor why her reading was so moving when she didn’t have any of the skills that he had. His answer was simple: “I know the psalm,” he said. “But that lady knows the shepherd.”[2]
She knows this God who “is with us!” There’s a difference between knowing about God, and knowing God. Living with God, conversing with God. Praying. “You are with me.”
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In our Gospel reading, Jesus says a most remarkable thing: “I am the good shepherd.” Do you recognize the words of the Psalm that lie behind it? Those same words about a God who shepherds us. A God who promises goodness and mercy and a dwelling place forever.
“Goodness and mercy all my life
shall surely follow me,
and in God’s house forevermore
my dwelling place shall be.”
https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=47679 [retrieved April 9, 2024]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Good_shepherd_m2.jpg." width="187" height="128" />
I know you’ve heard these things before! Many times. You do remember, don’t you? The astounding thing is that Jesus takes those familiar words and applies them to himself: I am that shepherd who cares, guides, and protects the flock from harm.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for you and me. “I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. (John 10:14-15)
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We are not rocks on a hillside overlooking the sea. Rocks that have no feelings or needs.
We are living beings. We grow tired and we need rest. We are hungry and we need to eat. We get lost and we need someone to show us the way.
We need that Good Shepherd. We need Jesus. We need that promise that he will always be with us. Well I do, anyway. And I guess maybe you do too.
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[1] James Howell, Pastor, Myers Park United Methodist Church, Charlotte, NC. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?tab=1# Accessed April 27, 2009
[2] Fred Kane, PNCL listserve, April 28, 2009.