8/23/59

Scripture: Psalm 23; John 10: 11-16

The book of Psalms was the hymnal of the Hebrews. It was well known to the Jews of Jesus’ time, and, of course, to Jesus himself. The early Christians knew the Psalms well and used them in Christian worship. They continued to be thoroughly known, and well used by the Christian leaders who came several centuries after Jesus and his apostles.

Other hymns were added as the years of the Christian era passed by. Some of the new Christian songs appear in the New Testament. But the olds ones are there, too. Careful scholars tell us that the Psalms are quoted more than 90 times in the New Testament. And, of course, they are a definite part of modern Christian worship. The Psalter, used responsively or in unison in the worship of many churches is selected from the Psalms. Certain Psalms have been carefully memorized and faithful repeated by many Christians. Some are stronger and more skillfully written than others. Some have a more pointed meaning for our need than others. Like any other collected pieces of literature, they vary in their attractiveness and power.

The first Psalm is a masterful statement of ethical rightness. The 19th Psalm, which was the basis of our thinking together here on the first Sunday of this month, is strong and stately. Perhaps the most widely memorized and beloved of the Psalms is the 23rd, or Shepherd’s Psalm, which was read as this morning’s Scripture lesson, and is referred to in the music of today’s service.

This “Psalm of David,” as it is titled, has won for itself a supreme place in the religious literature of the world. All who read it, whatever their race, age or circumstances, find in the quiet beauty of its thought a range and depth of spiritual insight that is satisfying to their souls. It brings assurance to the young, and to the insecure, consolation to the desolate, quiet confidence and joy to all who have learned to love its imagery.

The 23rd Psalm is not complicated. It is perhaps not as great or powerful a work of literature as some others. It is a relatively simple little lyric, artless and sunny, written by a godly Hebrew in a restful moment when he just had to sing! Yet, along with the prayer which we call our “Lord’s Prayer,” it is probably the best-known passage in the Bible. And it is full of uncomplicated and easily-understood meaning.

The simplicity of this Psalm is one of its charms. It is no elaborate ode emerging from the long mental struggles of a profound writer. It is more like a simple song. Its imagery is simple and quickly grasped. The Lord of life is understood, or thought of, as a shepherd --- one who cares for his sheep skillfully, responsibly, with great understanding; and not a little love. We people are compared, in the imagination, to the sheep who are in such excellent care.

The imagery appears to change in the 5th verse, when the Lord of life is compared to a host, setting the table safely for his guest in the very sight of enemies. But this may also be a continuation of the Shepherd as the figure of speech in the song.

The main point of this Psalm is its realism. It is not just a “sunshine story;” but it faces faithfully the dark dangers and the lurking foes of good living, along with honest recognition of life’s delights. It sees life steadily, and it sees life whole. And it leaves no doubt as to the master force governing all.

In the heart of things, it discerns the good shepherd. Therefore, in spite of the inevitableness of the shadow, it is a life story with a happy ending. It is stated as simply and clearly as some of Jesus’ parables. It is like a stream of waters that are perfectly clear, but nonetheless deep. Even the discerning critic of religious literature finds in the Shepherd’s Psalm an expression of his persuasion and hope.

The first verse of the Psalm gives its general thesis: “The Lord is my shepherd;” therefore “I shall not want.” The Hebrews of David’s time could think of the Lord of Life -- God -- as the shepherd of their lives. Then, for Christians, the Psalm became immeasurably enriched when Jesus claimed to be the God Shepherd saying: “I am the good shepherd.” [John 10: 11]--- not just a hired hand who works for wages alone, but the really concerned shepherd; “And know my sheep, and am known of mine.” [John 10: 14].

“As the Father knows me, so I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep.” [John 10: 15]. Christ’s shepherding extends beyond those acknowledged to be his own fold to all those who should be in his one fold. “Other sheep I have,” said he, “which are not of this fold; them also must I bring; and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd.” [John 10: 16].

The richness of this comparison of the Lord of living to a good shepherd is better perceived when we know a bit more about the skill and practices of the near Eastern shepherd. Travelers have told us how various flocks may be sheltered in one fold (that is, one corral or safe place at night.) When a particular shepherd comes to the gate and gives his call for the sheep of his flock, there may be an alertness of all the sheep in that fold. But only those of his own flock will start for the gate where he is, edging their way in little groups among the others until they reach him. No other sheep of another flock will move. Having heard his voice, and come to him, they follow him out, confidently and obediently, “whithersoever he goeth.” Only so can one truly say, “The Lord is my shepherd,” and confidently assert, “I shall not want.”

When he says, “I shall not want,” the writer clearly refers to his material needs -- like those of a sheep -- food, drink, rest, shelter. The Christ-led person needs these things too, and there are those who stoutly maintain that no true Christian ever really lacks for them. But the brutality of war and the tragedy of natural disasters, may persuade one not to be too literally insistent that this is so. There have been Christian folk who have suffered want of material blessings -- sometimes because they were Christian. But such things as the strength to continue, hope that saves, and peace in the hidden heart -- these will not fail, as vast numbers of patient folk will testify.

Much depends on what we mean by “I” when we say, “I shall not want.” If we mean the enduring self, which possesses a body, the word stands.

A dramatic preacher, Joseph Parker, once saw a pamphlet entitled, “Have I a soul?” He decided to answer its advertisement for himself. In his pulpit, he startled his congregation by crying out repeatedly, “I have no soul.” Then, using all the emphasis of a magnificent voice, he declared, “I am a soul and have a body!” And this, after all, is the truth of the matter for the person who trusts in the Good Shepherd enough to say, “I shall not want.” The needs of the sheep, and the competence of the Good Shepherd, are pictured in these short sentences and simple phrases of the psalm. The early journey is assured, as the sheep of the flock follow the shepherd out in the morning toward the day’s pasture and nourishment.

Nobody denies that we have to walk and not faint. Life uses our energies in the journey and business of the day. And then life needs its reasonable resting times. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.”

No small amount of the life of the ordinary person is filled with the gentle delights. And we get a wrong idea of Providence, if we fail to take them, enjoy them, and call them to mind with gratitude.

“He leadeth me beside the still waters.” The scene changes, and so does the meaning. You think of quietly flowing waters or a pond or small lake. But there is more to this scene in shepherd life. The good shepherd keeps in mind, during all the day’s grazing for his sheep, their need for water. He must lead his flock to a drinking place. The refreshment of good water is one of the coveted rewards of all the day. And it is particularly essential, in the waterless hills and plains of the Palestinian scene, that the shepherd know the right place for water.

But the water must be still for his sheep. A rushing brook or swift stream would frighten and endanger his sheep. They are timid and fearful of any swift current, for it they fall in they are easily carried down stream because of their wool. So the shepherd looks for quiet waters -- a still pool, a good well, perhaps a cistern (though the sheep prefer “live water” to that stored in a cistern). Sometimes he knows of a spring or a tiny brook where he literally creates “still water” by building a tiny dam to hold the waters.

When they get to the water, he makes a certain sound; all his sheep lie down and are quiet; and then he fills the drinking troughs. They can now drink safely, and without alarm. They come to the water at the shepherd’s whistle or call. If several flocks arrive at the watering place at the same time, the sheep of a given flock still come for their drink only at the call of their own shepherd. And how safely and satisfyingly they may drink “beside the still waters!”

“He restoreth my soul.” That means life or one’s self -- life or self -- in the Hebrew writings. There are perilous places for sheep on all sides. They never seem to avoid them. The shepherd must at all times be on the watch. And there are private gardens and vineyards near some pasture areas of the shepherd country. If a sheep strays into them and is caught it is forfeited to the owner of the land. So “he restoreth my soul” means “the shepherd brings me back and rescues me from fatal and forbidden places.” “Restores me when wandering” is the way it is worded in one of the hymns.

“He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.” It is important to take the right path; for our path leads to a precipice; another to a place where the sheep can not find the way back. And the shepherd is always going ahead on the right path; proud of his good name as a shepherd -- “for his name’s sake.”

But some paths, though right, are still full of perils. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death” touches on this fact in the life of a shepherd and his sheep. One Palestinian path, which has to be used, is called the “valley of robbers;” another, “the ravine of death.” The reference to the “valley of the shadow of death” is drawn from actual fact and custom in that country.

But no matter if the right path does lie through danger, or perhaps hardship or even suffering, the sheep are content if only the shepherd is with them. There is no finer picture of the way of inner peace for the world than this assuring phrase: “for thou art with me.” And for this reason, “I will fear no evil.” The New Testament puts it this way: “In all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.” [Romans 8: 37].

The next details of the picture are not familiar to us, for sheep herders of our land and time do not use the rod and staff of the Palestinian herdsman. But these instruments cover the whole round of protective care. The staff or crook, with its curved end, is suitable for guiding sheep; and the rod is a stout weapon for defending them. One aids them in places of need along peaceful ways; the other defends them in perils of robbers and wild beasts. This guidance and protection is part of the “comfort” of the sheep. In some cases it goes further. For some shepherds, when counting their sheep into the fold at close of day, cause each one to walk in under the stretched rod. And as each one comes in, the shepherd looks at it quickly and carefully for any sign of wound or injury that should be cared for.

Then, the figure (to the mind of some) changes from a shepherd to a host setting a table for feeding his friends. This is all right for those who find help in looking at it that way. This fifth verse is said to have been a favorite of British Christians in London at communion during war time when bombing was at its peak. In one instance when a church was hit during a communion service, the service continued in the spirit of those who knew their table was set by the Lord in the presence of their enemies. And they communed, in the midst of deadly danger, yet with confidence.

But one does not need to abandon the figure of the shepherd at this point. For the Palestinian shepherd does likewise for his sheep. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” The word for table here means simply “something spread out.” One of the Psalms quotes the saying, “Can God prepare a table in the wilderness?” [Psalm 78: 19].

Well, this is what the shepherd does for his sheep. Along with finding quiet waters, he must prepare safe feeding places. There are poison grasses to be avoided. Sheep will not eat some of these. Others they will eat if the shepherd does not discover them and lead the flock elsewhere. And there are snakes in holes, or in mole runs, ready to bite the noses of the grazing sheep. They must be discovered and destroyed, or the sheep must be led elsewhere. Hungry wild beasts may lurk in nearby caves or ravines close by good feeding places. The skill of the shepherd is at its best in defending his flock from the enemies that lie in wait for them as they graze where he has “prepared their table.”

But what of the “anointing my head with oil?” That again sounds like the thoughtfulness of an oriental host. Yes, but it also describes an act of the shepherd who takes the especially weary sheep of his flock, coming into the fold under his rod, looks it over for wounds or scratches, gives it an extra drink of water from a full and brimming cup, and bathes its face and head with a bit of soothing and refreshing oil from his horn container. There is nothing more assuring in the Psalm than this phrase, “Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”

And then, when the day is done and the sheep are snugly safe in the shelter of the fold, what contentment there under a starry sky! How secure their repose! “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life” -- just as they have followed me through the wanderings of this day. These words suggest the continued pilgrimage and shepherding.

Then the song closes with the assertion from the heart that God has watched, and watches and tends over me. In this peace, I rest with the assurance that “I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” It is quite right for us to enlarge the spiritual figure here. However we have found the day - with comfort and plenty; with danger, pain or disaster; we, having been led and loved in good days and bad, are still able to join in worship in the Lord’s temple.

Wherefore, let our assurance in the Lord’s house be interpreted in the light of our understanding of him as the great Good Shepherd of our lives.

[On different occasions, the sermon was followed by reading Psalm 23 in unison, or singing a hymn which conveys its meaning.]

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Dates and places delivered:

Wisconsin Rapids, August 23, 1959 (union service).

Imiola Church, January 18, 1970

Lady Doak College Chapel, Madurai, India, March 7, 1970.

Waioli Hiuia Church, January 7, 1973.