Psalm 23
This has been called the “pearl” of the Psalter, one of just about everyone’s favorites. The beauty of its imagery has survived many translations down through the ages. Ironically, it is the translation of a verb in the last verse which makes it difficult to classify this psalm. In verse six we can read either “I shall dwell” or “I shall return.” If “dwell,” then this would be classified as a psalm of confidence or trust; if “return,” then a psalm of thanksgiving. Either fits. When the psalms were written Hebrew did not use vowels, just consonants. Vowels were not indicated until the Massoretic text in the Middles Ages. The structure of Hebrew verbs (three consonants) especially, allowed one to figure out the vowels (and therefore the root meaning, tense, etc.) from the context. This is a case where it could go either way. The Hebrew could read either weshabti with an “a,” meaning “and I shall return” or weshibti with an “I,” meaning “and I shall dwell.” In praying this psalm before the first entry into the Promised Land and or referring to the Exodus “dwell” would fit. But in praying it in reference to the return from Exile, a second exodus, “return” would fit. Both have their advocates and both versions provide food for thought. Because of the generality of the metaphors we have no idea when, where, and for what circumstances this psalm was composed. It seems to be very old. It is appropriate for the Exodus Age, the Age of the Monarchs and Temple, the Exile and after, indeed, the present age. Likewise, it is appropriate for both communal and individual prayer.
The primary model or paradigm for this psalm is the Exodus- the whole forty-year journey from Egypt through the desert into the Promised Land, ending with a celebrative and commemorative meal and the people dwelling in the land “forever.” The psalmist sees that event as if it were a shepherd, with Moses, his representative leader complete with staff, leading his sheep from a pasture, chewed up and now devoid of nutrients and water into a new spot, a fresh and refreshing spot. Then, he applies its lessons, its truths, to his own personal “exodus” through life, experiencing the Lord’s constant companionship, guidance, protection and provision.
In verse one The Lord is my Shepherd: Up to this point in the Psalter the imagery used to refer to God has preferred the more distant “king” or “deliverer” or the more impersonal “rock,” shield,” etc. In the image of “shepherd” we have the most comprehensive and intimate metaphor yet encountered. The shepherd was everything to his flock- provider, protector, guide, “alpha dog,” etc. The psalmist has reached way back to the very beginnings of Israel as a people and brought forth one of its most ancient epithets for God, a rather common image used by other Near Eastern cultures applied to both God and king-leaders. It connotes the care, the meeting of every need, the emotional bonding shown by a shepherd, a good shepherd, not a hireling, so that his sheep may live a life of well-being and security and says, in effect, that God is like that or that the king-leader should be like that. The imagery and connotations would be easily understood by a people whose landscape was dotted with sheep and shepherds. The psalmist proceeds to set forth the fundamentals of the covenant relationship, not in terms of Lord-servant, but shepherd-sheep, not as it generally applies to the community, but as it applies to the individual. “My” shepherd does not deny the communal dimension but applies it to the personal, in this case his own life.
There is nothing I lack: This is Exodus talk. It comes from Dt 2:7 where the same verb, hasar, is used, a word incidentally easily reminiscent of and confused with, hesed, only in a Hebrew text where no vowels are written, loyal love. The Exodus is the backdrop of all the images used in this psalm. Whatever it takes to arrive at the end, the goal, the destination, the Promised Land, God will provide.
In verse two, green pastures…safe waters: Exodus language recalls the “holy pasture” of Ex 15:13, the immediate goal of the Hebrews, and the “waters of placidity,” the resting place associated with the ark in the desert wanderings, Num 10:33.
In verse three, you restore my strength: The vigor of and for life, vitality, is more than just life or existence. It is life enjoyed, cherished, embraced, life with a purpose and goal. The psalmist likens his ever-renewed love for life and joy in living it to the experience of an animal in green pastures and by drinkable waters. The first half of the imagery represents life when all is going well. It is relatively easy to be aware of God’s presence and give him credit for it.
In verse four, through a dark valley: There are several ways to translate these words, but they all involve the threat of death. Sheep frequently have to go through the darkest part of the valley, the lowest part, where the sun does not shine, in order to get to greener pastures. They must trust the shepherd whose presence trumps their fears, their temptation to cut and run. This dark spot, this threat of death represents the other side of reality. Life with the shepherd does not shield one from this part, when life does not go well, when the pastures are black not green and the waters are torrential not peaceful and drinkable. The Exodus generation knew such dark days and so does every individual.
Your rod and staff give me courage: The Palestinian shepherd carried two implements. One was a club, a rod Hebrew shebet, an iron cudgel to ward off and beat back hostile beings, be they animals or humans, worn at the belt. The other was a cane, a staff, Hebrew mish`enet, a crook held in the hand for support, e.g., for climbing mountains, and as a goad to shoo distracted sheep and direct straying one to move back in line. The mere presence of the weapon and the guiding goad inspired both confidence and courage. The psalmist interpreted them as signs of God’s characteristics in leading his flock. He would protect and guide and use any means to do so.
In verses five and six: The imagery shifts from the arena of sheep to the arena of humans. Because this is poetry it has more than one referent. Surely, an Israelite familiar with the Thanksgiving Liturgy in the Temple would be reminded of it. After offering a gift an animal or several, grain and wine, in thanksgiving for God’s favors, some of the offering would be reserved for a celebrative meal with family and friends, even while one’s enemies either looked on in envy at the person’s good fortune or perhaps invited as a gesture of forgiveness. Surely, these verses would recall such a scene. The scene would also fit in with any meal celebrated to mark a victory- military, where captive enemies would be forced to look on; legal, where a vindicated defendant has a victory party, even a celebration for the return of good health. Sometimes an important and influential person would invite an accused person to dinner to indicate his support and signal the accused enemies, who might well be present, his position regarding him. However, we do not have to leave the desert to get the main reference. There was a strict and sacred law of hospitality in the desert. Besides straying sheep there were straying strangers. If they came into one’s camp and company, one was obliged to feed and water them. This could be minimally observed or be an occasion for lavish generosity. Here, the stranger gets a fine table, lavishly spread and wine, not just water, overflowing beyond the brim. Such generosity and hospitality describes God whom the psalmist has encountered in his desert journey, so glad to meet him, so glad he found him, so generous in his caring for his needs, that he invites him to stay permanently with him. Good shepherds treated strangers no differently than they treated their own sheep.
In verse five, you set a table before me: God is now experienced as a generous host. Eating and drinking at someone’s table created and or expressed a bond of mutual loyalty. A meal frequently sealed a deal, a covenant, treaty, pact with another, such as in Ex 24:8-12, the sealing of God’s covenant with Israel, or the Lord’s Supper, sealing the new covenant.
As my enemies watch: These enemies would be both the one’s who caused the distress, now forced to watch their own failure to do in the psalmist, and those who are of like mind, those who increased his suffering by their dogmatically correct, “You must have done something wrong…” See Job, but inhuman attitude.
You anoint my head with oil: Part of the ritual of hospitality was anointing, a sign that the host is glad to have the guest, as well as a means to relieve the stresses and grime of traveling and treating the guest like “royalty.”
In verse six, only goodness and love pursue me: No longer pursued by hostile forces, the guest is protected by the host’s power and influence, no temporary situation but a characteristic of his whole life.
I will dwell in the house of the Lord for years to come: The primary referent is the Temple. It is extended meaning is “the area of salvation,” that is., wherever the psalmist is when he becomes aware of the Lord. The physical protection which temple asylum affords is no different from what the psalmist encounters in the green pastures, on the one hand, or the valley of death, on the other. It is potentially available not only in every space but also in every time period. What might have been first experienced only in the Temple is now encountered throughout life. The psalmist, in effect, says, “This is the very same protection I feel when I’m in the Temple, even while my enemies watch or are made to watch.”
Jesus has told us that he is that good shepherd. He both gives his life, every moment of his days, for the good of his sheep and he has given up his life, when called upon by hostile circumstances threatening the life of his sheep. He says that he wants us now, his church, communally and individually, to be the “body” through which he continues to shepherd. Just as the shepherd had various functions, so the Christian and the Church. One’s predominant function may be to lead or to guide, but a shepherd is a total image-package. That same person must also feed, protect, comfort, give security. One’s predominant function may be to feed, but that same shepherding person cannot at the same time mislead others. Thus, it is the intertwining of these functions and fidelity to all of them which makes the Church and her individual members provide the means whereby Christ lives in our world today. We cannot ignore one or the other function, even if one be our predominant responsibility. Thus, an “official” shepherd cannot justify starving a needy person in the name of teaching that person. One cannot deny compassion in the name of orthodoxy or “official capacity.” Unfortunately, many “official” sins are excused in the name of being a “shepherd.”
We know that while we live here on earth, so long as we live “with” him and allow him to live “with” us, we experience the deep joy, satisfaction and security of which this psalm sings. It is all confirmed in our personal experience and resembles very much what we can sense sheep feel in the presence and under the care of a good shepherd.
We also know from experience that life is not always experienced as good. We probably have not yet lived an entire day when such was the case. Almost all days, if not all, are mixed, but there are some days, weeks, months that are really bad, worse than “normal.” Then almost all light seems to fade and we walk in darkness, like the sheep in the deep, dark ravine of the valley. Then we, like they, have only the comforting voice and word of the shepherd to keep us from panicking. Even then, especially then, we are aware of the Lord’s comfort and strength being “with” us- in all kinds of darkness, in times of depression, serious illness, rejection by lovers and friends, horror at our own perversity and disloyalty, even the threat of physical or emotional death. God’s loving, comforting presence is as real then as in the good times. It has a somewhat different “feel,” but not so different as to be contradictory or opposite of the “feel” of his presence in good times.
Thus, we come to know, even before it happens, that God is always there and will always be there, even pursuing us like Francis Thompson’s “Hound of Heaven.” Thus, we come to know that even the experience of death is a call to depth. Thus, we come to know that even though no human can accompany us through death, the Lord can and does. Where other lesser guides must turn back, the Lord continues with us. No one but the Lord can guide us through our personal deaths be they physical or emotional. However, he is not just the “death doctor.” He is always there. If he decreases our fears, he also increases our joys. He is the same Lord and Shepherd, no matter what the terrain or horizon. We dwell or can dwell in his presence always, now and forever. And should we stray, he will search us out, so we can return to him whenever we turn towards him. He is always there and always with open arms. He does not use his rod to beat us, but to beat his and our enemies, evil. He does use his staff to guide us, though, and to the very weak and wimpy that might feel like his rod, but it isn’t. It is his love in action, acting on our behalf and in our best interests.Amen.
