This sermon was preached at Glenwood and Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa on May 12, 2019. It’s based on Psalm 23. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson/.
Psalm 23
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. 3 He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. 4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Father Gregory Boyle is the founder and director of Homeboy Industries, a gang intervention and rehabilitation program. In his book, Tattoos on the Heart, Boyle shares the story of a 16-year-old boy who arrives early for Mass at the detention facility in order to prepare and practice his reading before worship starts. His reading is the Responsorial Psalm, whose refrain is, “The Lord is my shepherd. There is nothing I shall want.” The boy’s voice fills the chapel… He moves through the psalm with an absence of self-consciousness, reading the verses and then indicating (with a sweeping hand gesture) to the congregation, which isn’t there yet, when they are to chime in with him: “The Lord is my shepherd. There is nothing I shall want.”
Soon, both sides of the aisle fill, and Mass begins. Our man approaches to lead us in the Responsorial Psalm. There is something about him that makes me watch carefully. Nerves haven’t kicked in—quite the opposite…He figures he’s practiced enough, got the thing memorized. And so he makes the exaggerated movement with his hand and leads our little congregation: “Our response to the psalm this evening is: “The Lord…is nothing I shall want.” The volunteers, in unison, cringe and scramble with their body language to find some way to push this toothpaste back into its container. Too late. The congregation belts back to our leader, “THE LORD IS NOTHING I SHALL WANT.”
Father Boyle tells this story to say that there is enough strained obligation in what we think God asks of us that our mantra might as well be, “The Lord is nothing I shall want.” He argues, instead, that the task at hand is only about delighting—with joy at the center. At ease, he says. We can all relax.1
I share this story today, because we just read Psalm 23. And I’ve been wondering, this week, why the image of Jesus as shepherd is so compelling, why the 23rd psalm is among the most beloved of scripture passages. What is it that draws us, when we are so often fiercely independent and stubborn and bull-headed, to claim the identity of sheep in need of leading and guidance? It seems surprising, somehow, that we actually want this kind of Lord in our lives.
And then a tweet on Twitter caught my eye. It read: I am tired of being strong. I would like to be the one other people take care of for awhile. And I thought to myself, I know that feeling.
Life is hard. In the language of Glennon Doyle, life is brutiful—brutal and beautiful all at once.2
We face difficult decisions, questions for which there are no easy answers.
We wonder if we’re doing the right thing, if we’re headed in the right direction.
We care for those who depend on us. We offer our best and hope it’s enough.
We love with our whole hearts, opening ourselves to tremendous joy and devastating grief.
We weary of death and sorrow.
No wonder we cling to the words of the psalmist. No wonder we yearn for a shepherd, a present-tense shepherd, who does not make us wait for future salvation in a far off place, but leads us beside still waters now.
Still waters. Not the chaotic, raging waters that so often claim our attention, but still waters that soothe, and relax, and reflect the beauty within and around us.
He makes us to lie down in green pastures. Not the dry, barren deserts of doubt and fear that threaten to consume us, but green pastures in which to rest, be encouraged, be loved.
Our Shepherd gives us still waters and green pastures, so that when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, through the valley of deep darkness, through the valley that is this brutiful world, we’re prepared. We’re rested and fed.
We’ve looked into those still waters and seen the reflection of our Savior beside us. We know we’re not alone. We know we don’t have to keep on being strong. We know we don’t have to fend for ourselves. Our Shepherd is with us.
You are with me, the psalmist declares with a heart full of gratitude. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
I don’t know who or what you would classify as your enemies this day. If I were to make a list, it would be a long one. I would include those systemic forces that create injustice and sorrow: poverty, gun violence, racism, homophobia, all that keeps us from loving God and loving one another. I would include addiction, cancer, abuse, shame. In the presence of these enemies, our Shepherd prepares a table before us, inviting us to feast and to celebrate even now.
Debra Dean Murphy writes, The Eucharist is always justice in the midst of injustice, reconciliation in the midst of estrangement, communal conviviality in the midst of private pain and loneliness.3 Conviviality. I love that word. At the table of our Lord, there is friendship, good humor, warm-heartedness in the midst of the struggle. There is joy and delight, a song to sing in the midst of the sighing.
So, come to the table. Rejoice, beloved, even in the presence of all that leaves you restless and unsure. Feast, even in the presence of all that enrages you and burdens you. Celebrate, even in the waiting for every tear to be wiped from your eyes.
Now, this day, your Shepherd feeds you with bread and wine, strength and courage, hope and freedom, goodness and mercy.
The Lord is everything we shall want.
Amen.
1 Learn more about Homeboy Industries and order Father Boyle’s book, Tattoos on the Heart, at https://homeboyindustries.org/.
2 https://momastery.com/blog/2013/10/02/life-freaking-brutiful/
This is a Psalm I keep coming back to. I agree, it is a relief to know that we don’t have to be strong, but that God is there to guide us and to provide for us whatever we face.
Thank you for reading and commenting, Lesley! Peace…