Psalm 23

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want.

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters.

3 He revives my soul and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake.

4 Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

5 You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me; you have anointed my head with oil, and my cup is running over.

6 Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

Supervision

What else is there to be said about the best known of the psalms? We heard Psalm 23 in church yesterday (It’s also reprinted in this email). It’s hard to hear it as if we never heard it before. It’s so popular, in fact, that if you go online, you can find dozens of t-shirts that feature the message: “The Lord is my shepherd.” The imagery ranges widely. There are all kinds of excessively adorable images of cuddly sheep. I passed on ordering any of those. But one t-shirt caught my eye. Designed with simplicity, rendered in the most tasteful typeface, it bore this message:

The Lord is my shepherd. (I need constant supervision.)

That’ll preach.

Reading about the role of the shepherd in biblical times, one of the features of the job was that it was 24/7. A shepherd wandered with the flock, ever present with them as protector, provider and guide. Hence the idea of constant supervision. The psalmist notes that the Lord as shepherd is with us in all circumstances, leading beside still waters, accompanying through the valley of the shadow of death, setting a table, present when facing enemies, places I suspect we all have been.

For those of us who swim in the stream of Christian tradition, we see Jesus as this good shepherd, in large part because he described himself as such in John 10. One of my favorite passages in the gospels comes as Jesus draws a huge crowd out to the countryside. Gospels tell us that Jesus looked on this gathering with compassion. He saw them as “harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” When I served a Park Avenue church in Manhattan, a place with as much pedestrian traffic in front of it as any I can imagine, I would sometimes stand on the steps and watch folks race by, many looking frazzled or irritated or sometimes even lost. I often thought that these folks seem harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. I often thought that they needed a shepherd. Have you ever felt that way?

One of the most illogically graceful parables that Jesus told describes a shepherd who leaves 99% of his sheep to go rescue one lost sheep who wandered off. In the parable, Jesus doesn’t tell us why this one sheep wandered off. The beauty of the parable is that we get to speculate, to wonder about the wandering. One possibility is that this one sheep decided that it didn’t need constant supervision, that it could make its way on its own. Extrapolate a bit, and see that one lost sheep deciding it could take on the role of the shepherd. In other words, that lost sheep could play God, which tangentially triggers for me another bit of wisdom from Anne Lamott who said: “What's the difference between God and me? God never thinks he's me.” Is there any way you might be like that lost sheep, committed to the theology of Frank Sinatra: “I’ll do it my way.”

When in Lent we pray “Lord have mercy,” that’s another way of saying that we admit that we do need constant supervision. Where do you experience that need in your own life? Do you identify with that crowd of 5000 that was harassed and helpless? Are you trying to make your way through the valley of the shadow of death? Are you hankering for some down time by still waters, where your soul can be restored? Would that table spread before you fill a need in your life?

The promise, the premise of our faith is that constant supervision, that graceful presence is available to us. All we have to do is follow. How might you tap into that guidance, that provision, even that supervision this week?

-Jay Sidebotham