A sermon by Associate Minister Elsa A. Peters, March 2, 2008
Psalms 23
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
The Lord is my shepherd, but I want. It’s not that I need anything exactly. But, I do indeed want. When I stand in front of the grieving and recite these familiar words, I always wonder about this wanting — or lack of wanting – among the mourning. I shall not want. And yet, I do. I want.
I want to ease their pain. I want to affirm that this death makes sense in the logic of God’s order. And yet, before these gathered mourners, I recite these familiar words reminding them and myself not to want.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
I shall not – but I do. I want so much. It is hard for me to sing in harmony with this ancient Psalm. No matter how certain I might be that the Lord is my shepherd, I am not as certain that there is nothing that I lack. This verse attests to the wisdom that God satisfies all of our wants and needs. All of our physical, material and spiritual needs are provided by the Lord who is our Shepherd.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
The first to sing this ancient Psalm were very familiar the livelihood of the shepherd. They were either shepherds themselves or a breeder or a herdsman. It was unlikely that their occupation was not connected to shepherds. Sheep were “the most important domestic animals in Palestine.” These creatures were the center of their economic loss of gain. And so, these commodities must be protected with good caretaking from a good shepherd.
A good shepherd risked their safety with the flock and the comfort of a warm bed at night. They would lead sheep to green pastures to find food and beside still waters to find drink. But, there was a lot to fear. Sheep are the wandering sort and get easily lost – which elevated the threat of thieves and predators eager to clamp their jaws around this economic asset.
It is the shepherd’s presence in dark valleys that transforms the situation. It is the security of the shepherd’s rod that wards off enemies and the directional push of the staff that make it possible to not fear. These dark valleys don’t disappear — anymore than our wanting does. And yet, with the guidance of the shepherd, the sheep are protected from thieves and predators and other enemies. They are safe.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
These are words that we offer to the grieving and the wandering for a new perspective. These words offer the simple assurance that in the worst of times – in death, in divorce or in the war of terror – we are not alone. We offer these lyrics to encourage each other in the certain knowledge that God is warding off our enemies with a rod.
We are comforted. And like the sheep, we are safe. Perhaps this is enough. Perhaps this is why these words offer such comfort. It is enough.
The Lord is my shepherd; we shall not want.
But, we do. We want so much. Perhaps it is because we are still walking. In this sixth year of war and terror, we continue willingly and unwillingly to walk through the darkest valley. We listen to the news to hear about bombs and destruction. We read the newspaper seeking the missing story of the Iraqi widow or Afghani orphan.
This is our darkest valley. There is no staff to offer us comfort. There is no rod to ward off our enemies. There is only evil to be feared in our darkest valley. In this dark and scary place, we do not only fear the evil of war in Iraq. We fear the evil of divisions in Israel, Palestine, Sudan, Kenya and Cameroon. There are too many places where our mind wanders in this dark valley. No matter how we might name evil, there is much be feared. In this darkest valley of war, we are without a shepherd and we want peace.
We want peace. Even if we are the wandering sort, we want God to be our shepherd. To make us lie down. To lead us. To walk with us. To make sense of what we cannot understand. We want God to guide us through this uncertain territory by clearing a path toward peace.
Of course, it is never that simple. The One that we call the Prince of Peace reminds us that this is not an easy path to take. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus scolds the disciples with the reminder that he did not come to bring peace – but division. In Matthew’s version of the same story, it is not division but the sword.
And so with division and the sword, this darkest valley has cost us 4,000 American young women and men. It is responsible for the loss of hundreds of thousands of Iraqi civilians. It is breaking hearts – yours and mine. No matter how it started or where it has touched our lives, we grieve for the peace that we have lost. We long to return to the right path where God reminds us not of the sword or further division but reminds us of the words that Jesus offers in John’s Gospel:
I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
And so, the trouble of our darkest valley should not haunt us. The uncomfortable dance that accompanies these ancient lyrics requires us not only to recognize the trouble in our world. Somehow, we are supposed to take heart and remember that our shepherd – the one that we call God – does not rest in armies and militaries of this world. Our God is not the governmental forces that wage wars and declare peace. Our God is our Shepherd. Who leads us. Guides us. Walks with us. And prepares a “table before us in presence of all of our enemies.”
It is for us to decide how we get to that table. It is for us to decide – as some did this week – which beloved folk song to play among North and South Koreans when the concert begins. It is for us to decide what it means for the sound of two national anthems to fill this same auditorium. It is for us to decide what part we will play in this lively scene. It is for us to decide if this describes the sometimes simple acts of making peace.
Even in this world of trouble, we can take heart. The shepherd has pushed trouble away with the rod and directed us with the push of a staff to this table. God has offered us the vision. It is for us to decide if there will be division or even the sword. It is for us to decide how we will allow mercy and goodness to follow us in all of the days of our lives. It is for us to decide if this is what we really want.