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 Psalm 23
Some months ago, I was in the midst of my morning prayer, which includes a version of the Jesus Prayer, which reads:
Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.
Make haste to help me.
Rescue me and save me.
Do Your will in my life.
Then, in the midst of this praying time, I found myself beginning to pray the 23rd Psalm. It just happened. It was a spontaneous moment, which became very special.
The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want....
There was something about praying this psalm which seemed right, and for several months now I have been interchanging it with and adding it to the Jesus Prayer.
The 23rd Psalm may well be the most beautiful, the most treasured and most helpful of all spiritual writing. I know people who are very advanced and mature in their spiritual journey for whom the 23rd Psalm is central. I also know people who are just starting their faith journey for whom the 23rd Psalm is a beloved companion. And from time to time I come across a non-believer, an atheist, one even hostile to religion, for whom the 23rd Psalm is meaningful and important.
Seared into my memory is a mystical moment I experienced a number of years ago in a Brooklyn funeral home. I was presiding at a service for a 24-year-old woman I had only met once. Her mother was a neighbor and attended a church I was serving at the time. The young woman was a beautiful, vivacious woman who had been murdered by her boyfriend when he was in a jealous rage.
As you can imagine, the room was packed with mourners. The atmosphere was heavy with depression, gloom, and anger. There was a palpable sense of grief and loss.
I didn't know the people attending, nor what their religious backgrounds were, but, as I usually do at funerals, I began the service with some words of Jesus'. After a couple of verses on Jesus' teachings about the afterlife, I began reading the 23rd Psalm. "The Lord is my shepherd," I said and, as if in one voice, they joined in, "I shall not want," and they went on through the entire psalm. It was an awesome moment. God was present in it. We could all feel the reality of God through this magnificent psalm.
Reflect with me on the content of this most comforting, helpful psalm.
The Lord is my shepherd: a most gracious, loving, caring presence. The psalm starts by presenting a vision of God as our shepherd, caring about us, being present for us, being there every minute of every day as our guide.
And, because the Lord is my shepherd, I can honestly say that I shall not want. My important needs are met. Rabbi Harold Kushner's latest book is simply called The 23rd Psalm. He says, "Because God is my shepherd, I lack nothing." A friend of his, he writes, will often say, "If God is my shepherd, what else do I need?"
But sometimes it is not easy. I find that praying that part of the psalm, I shall not want, can be difficult. Oftentimes I experience an internal push-pull, a tension, because I have wants and longings and yearnings. It is not easy to surrender these treasured things and give them to God, to trust the shepherd to take care of me.
Rabbi Kushner summarizes this energy in his book, where he says,
My version of the psalm's second line would read, The Lord is my shepherd; I shall often want. I shall yearn, I shall long, I shall aspire. I shall continue to miss the people and the abilities that have been taken from my life as loved ones die and skills diminish. I shall probe the empty spaces in my life like a tongue probing a missing tooth.
What a description--like a tongue probing a missing tooth. He goes on:
But I will never feel deprived or diminished if I don't get what I yearn for, because I know how blessed I am by what I have.
The Lord is my shepherd. Indeed, I shall not want.
I especially like the next image: He makes me lie down in green pastures. Often when I pray this passage I see myself on a warm summer afternoon, lying on a lush lawn, on my back and looking up. I feel the warmth of the sun tempered by a cool breeze. I know that here in New York the warmth of the sun isn't always accompanied by a cool breeze, but in my mind's eye I am on the coast of Maine by the ocean. I notice how the breeze makes the leaves in the trees dance about, and it delights me. I see the birds, as the song goes, "making lazy circles in the sky." Sometimes I see a seagull get into a draft of wind, allow it to carry him, and just float on by.
The psalm goes on: He leads me beside the still water. What genius, to invoke still water, with its healing, calming effect. The difference that it makes in the human soul to sit by still water! And then: He restores my soul.
For a long time I would wonder why these wonderful images of green grass and still water were at the beginning of the psalm. Why weren't they at the middle or the end of the psalm, when we are facing the darkness and the deep difficulties of the valley of the shadow of death? But God's wisdom says, "Let me give you these beautiful, healing images in the beginning, so that when you experience the difficulties--the hardships, meanness, and evil?you will have a peaceful, calm, and refreshed spirit." God knows the timing of what is good for us.
A few weeks ago I received a telephone call from a friend of this church and a good friend of mine, Mike Murray. Mike is an ordained Presbyterian minister who, after a few years of service at a church, became a management consultant for businesses, individuals, and religious groups. He conducts workshops, seminars, and retreats, and his success is due to his being a wonderful communicator.
Recently, Mike has been facing the biggest challenge of his life, a very serious, life-threatening cancer. He had a complex series of surgeries in Houston, Texas, not long ago, and he was close to death. But miraculously he has turned the corner and is on his way to health and normalcy. He called me recently to talk about that most challenging part of his journey. Then, with great excitement in his voice, he said, "Arthur, I've started praying the 23rd Psalm."
I too was excited, and said, "Mike, I've been doing the same thing. What has been your experience with it?"
As he spoke of visualizing himself lying down in the green grass and sitting beside the still water, he said, "Arthur, for forty years I've been telling people to do just that. I never did it for myself, not once. What an experience to finally go through it myself--to lie down in the green grass, beside the still water."
I was very curious about what this had been like for him, and asked him to go on.
"I had quite a realization," he said. "As I looked into the still water, I was seeing my own face, and I didn't like what I saw. I became aware of how much work I had to do with my personal growth."
If you were to talk to Mike Murray this afternoon and say, "Mike, this is the biggest challenge of your life, but has it also been your greatest gift?" he would say yes. The greatest gift of his life-threatening disease has been the gift of knowing God in ways he has never known God before. He told me that at times during his struggle with illness he felt bathed in love in a way completely new to him. Is it not true that oftentimes our greatest challenge and difficulty is the greatest gift? He restores my soul.
This next passage can be a difficult one. He leads me in the paths of righteousness, for his name's sake. My shepherd is always leading me to do the right thing, the honest thing--not to be compromised, and to have courage, to represent the best of love, fairness, and justice. I am challenged by this part of the psalm, sometimes to do big and significant things, but mostly to be alert to and do right by the people who pass through my life on any given day.
I had occasion recently to think about walking in the paths of righteousness. I was in the elevator in my building when a women entered, a woman I have seen and exchanged pleasant words with at least a hundred times in the twenty years I have lived in that building. My usual greetings were "Good morning, how are you, beautiful day, isn't it?" and she always responded in kind. On this particular morning, which was a very warm spring day, I commented on her wearing a coat. But instead of the usual pleasantry, she snapped at me with a snarling voice, and said, "I don't make comments about what you're wearing!" Her reaction threw me, and I felt myself getting very defensive. Oh, how I wanted to react and meet her nastiness with something in kind.
Consciously, I tried to reach her with sensitivity and kindness. I said, "I have offended you."
She snarled, "You have."
I said, "I hope you will forgive me."
In a gruff voice she mumbled, "I forgive you."
"She's not going to win this one," I thought. When we got off the elevator I said in the kindest, gentlest voice I could, "Have a good day." As I walked to the office I was bothered by a perplexing anger. I was allowing her to control my thoughts and my emotions. Her negativity was beginning to take over my day, and I started to pray for her, that she would have a good day and only good things would happen for her. After a couple of minutes of this, I was okay and in charge of my attitudes and emotions.
The next verse may well be the one we identify with the most. I walk through the valley of the shadow of death--darkness, pain and difficulty, loneliness, depression, loss and temptation, all of the things that go into making life troublesome and difficult.
Somebody said to me not long ago, "You know, we like living on the mountaintop, but we spend most of our time in the valley"--and we do. But there are two things to remember about walking in the valley of the shadow. First, Thou art with me. We are never alone. When we pray the 23rd Psalm we see God as our shepherd, always there, keeping an eye on us, protecting us, walking with us, helping us through the darkness. We are never, ever alone. The shepherd never abandons his sheep.
The other thing to remember is that the psalm doesn't say that we stop or live in the valley. It says we walk through the valley of the shadow, even the shadow where we face our own death. We really have nothing to fear, because the shepherd is an eternal, intimate, caring presence. As we walk through the valley of the shadow of death--or any other loss or trial--we have nothing to fear because the shepherd is with us.
What comes next is astounding. The shepherd prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies. There is a big celebration meal. When I'm having a difficult time, when there are people who are against me, when I'm being rejected, when things are not working out for me and I feel as if the world is against me, the shepherd loves me enough to set a banquet table before me. He truly loves and cares about me, and celebrates the good and promising things in me.
Yet there is more--the shepherd is so loving and generous that He anoints my head with oil. He makes me feel I am very special. His action proves to me there isn't anything we can do which will stop God from loving us.
Then the psalm says, My cup runs over. I am blessed. Every want, every need I have is answered. I am rich. I have an abundance of blessings. My cup is running over with blessings. What am I complaining about when I have all of this? The Good Shepherd is guiding and watching over me, walking with me through the valley of the shadow of death, putting a banquet before me. When times are most difficult, I have these blessings, and blessings, and blessings.
And at the end of the Psalm is the most reassuring, comforting passage of all: And I dwell in the house of the Lord forever, and ever, and ever. Nothing can ever take me away from the Lord's house. No matter what happens, I am safe.
It is understandable why people love this psalm. It is comfort and hope. There isn't any psalm which addresses the needs of the human condition more helpfully. I commend it to you.
Together, let us pray the Psalm.
PSALM 23
THE LORD is my shepherd
I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in the paths of righteousness,
For his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil:
For Thou art with me;
Thy rod and Thy staff
They comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me
In the presence of my enemies:
Thou annointest my head with oil;
My cup runneth over.
Surely, goodness and mercy
Will follow me all of the days of my life, And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
AMEN |
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