The Good Shepherd

The readings you/we have just read are among my most loved passages from God's Word. I know that

you love them the most, too. Psalm 23, which we love so much, is, without any doubt, the song of our souls as we live this life as Christians.

Even if only we were made to recite and memorise the words of Psalm 23 as Sunday school children, they

still run deep like living waters in the depths of our souls, replenishing our souls as we journey through

this life.

In the Gospel reading from John, Jesus beautifully describes him as the Good Shepherd. It seems Jesus is modelling himself in the image in the Psalm he knew so well and offering himself to us as our Shepherd.

The passage from 1 Peter beautifully reiterates that the Lord is the Shepherd and the Overseer of our

souls (verse 25) while we traverse this fragile life on earth.

Today, I would like to draw on these three passages and share how the Good Shepherd oversees

our souls and guides us in this life. In particular, I want to focus on verse four of the Psalm: Even though I

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

This "valley of the shadow of death" mentioned in the Psalm is an actual place. For the best part of my life, for some reason, which even I cannot recall, I had imagined this valley to be a beautiful pathway to

Heaven.

The Arabic word for valley is "wadi", and many wadis exist in the Arab world. During my time in the

As the Senior Chaplain of the Anglican Church in the UAE (2010-2015), on a brief holiday in 2012, I visited the Al Shab Wadi in Oman. As you can see in the photograph, it is one of the most beautiful and exotic wadis. This experience reinforced my image of the valley of the shadow of death: that it is a beautiful pathway to Heaven.

Following my experience of this Al Shab Wadi in Oman, in 2013, I went on my first pilgrimage to the

Holy Land (only 2500 kms from Dubai) with forty church members. I asked the tour manager to include the Valley of the Shadow of Death in our itinerary to fulfil a long-held dream.

In Arabic, the valley of the shadow of death is known as Wadi Qelt (Nahal Prat, in Hebrew). It is seven

kilometres-long, narrow and deep gorge in the Judean wilderness that runs from Jerusalem down to

Jericho. Once we arrived there, I discovered that the valley was vastly different from what I had

imagined. The sidewalls are over 1500 feet high in places and are only 10 or 12 feet wide at the

bottom. Even on a bright and sunny day, the canyon's depths can be covered by a dark shadow,

making it difficult to see any danger lurking below. Hence, although we are accustomed to the phrase "the

valley of the shadow of death", a correct translation of the Hebrew term is probably "dark shadow" or

"darkest shadow" describing this valley.

Travel through the valley is dangerous because its floor, severely eroded by cloudbursts, has deep gullies.

This valley was nothing like the Al Shab valley I had experienced in Oman and the image I had imprinted

in my mind from my student days. We only walked about a kilometre into the valley and were

exhausted. We foresaw the physical injuries some of us would have suffered if we were to go further into

the valley unprepared, and soon returned to the coach and went on to the following site. Below is a picture of the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Seeing the valley of the shadow of death with my eyes left me a lasting impression. More than ever

before, Psalm 23 echoed in my heart each day as I went by, spending the day engaged in challenging – at

times perilous – tasks in ministry in the UAE.

Six months later, I went on my second pilgrimage to the Holy Land. This time, I planned to be free

from the group for three days of the pilgrimage to go on an exclusive excursion through the

valley of the shadow of death. I did it: I joined forty-four people on tour. Our journey was over eight

hours, and we feared running out of personal provisions and physical stamina to see the journey through.

Throughout the entire trail, except for St. George's Monastery and one of the oldest synagogues in the world, there were no coffee shops or anything of that sort. There were no carved steps to climb on or streetlights to show the way at night.

Our Israeli guide, Zeruiah (interestingly, the name of the only sister of King David who wrote Psalm 23),