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Communion/Shepherd Sunday, May 3, 2009
Reverend Michael D. PowellPsalm 23, John 10:11-18 |
The 4th Sunday of Easter is referred
to as Shepherd’s Sunday. The Gospel
reading refers to Jesus Christ as our Good Shepherd, and it’s a comforting and
appealing image for many people, an image of peacefulness and presence.
The
Twenty-third Psalm is one of the most powerful pieces of writing in existence. In
its own way it is as powerful as the Lord’s Prayer. I have prayed the Lord’s Prayer, and read the
23rd Psalm to people who were lying in the hospital, basically
comatose, and noticed their lips moving and an emotional response. The words work at a very deep and profound
spiritual level that is timeless and transcends the usual boundaries that we
use to divide ourselves from one another.
Here’s a powerful clip from a recent episode of the television
show, Lost:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-mpoZDWpzo
The 23rd Psalm represents a pattern of thinking and when the mind becomes saturated with it a new way of thinking results. Charles Allen, author of 'God's Psychiatry' says that this psalm has the ability to change lives. He suggests praying the psalm, meditating on each phrase, giving your mind-time to soak up as much of their meaning as possible. Ralph Waldo Emerson said that we are what we think about all day long. Norman Vincent Peale wrote, "Change your thoughts and you change your world." The Bible says, "As we think in our heart, so we are." (Proverbs 23:7).
For twenty-five centuries this psalm has been treasured in the hearts of people. Today it is more beloved than ever before. Why? Because it tells that above all the strife and fears, the hungers and weaknesses of our human condition, there is a Shepherd - a Shepherd who knows his sheep one by one, who is able to provide, who guides and protects and at the close of the day opens the door to a home not made with hands. The Twenty-third Psalm gives us the assurance that we are not alone. That is why it lives in the hearts of humanity, regardless of race or creed.
When we read the 23rd Psalm,
however, we need to remember that we’re stepping into Jewish territory. It’s a Psalm that comes out of the experience
of Israel. Perhaps you’ll remember that
Jacob wrestled with the angel of the Lord, and afterward was named Israel. The very name Israel refers to “those who
have struggled with God.” The history
of the Jews is a story of struggle – a churning, disruptive experience of being
lost and found, judged and forgiven, sent away and brought back. It’s a high drama of how God, like a good
shepherd, never stops searching for and restoring the lost sheep. [Craig Barnes, “Sheep On The Run”]
The term shepherd originally referred
to any ruler of Israel, the priests, the prophets, and the politicians. In Ezekiel, chapter 34, we read how God
chastises the shepherds of Israel for their selfish, corrupt ways. They have not comforted their people. They have not fed them or led them in the way
that leads to peace. God condemns the
false shepherds and promises that he will raise up another shepherd, a servant
after God’s own heart of love. That’s a
prayer for righteous leadership that I find myself offering up for our own
time, a promise I pray will be fulfilled not only in Israel, but also in all
the nations of the earth. We need Good
Shepherds; leaders who will help us find our way out of the valley of the
darkest shadows into the green pastures of peace. It is a universal prayer that is offered up
not for Israel or Palestine, not for America or Iraq or Afghanistan, not for
the Sudan or any of a dozen other warring nations we could name. It is a prayer
for the world, for the human family of God.
We are drawn to the imagery and the
promises of the 23rd Psalm not because they remind us that everything is
OK. We are drawn to images of green
pastures and still waters because we live in churning, tumultuous, terrifying
times. We desperately need the presence
of the Good Shepherd. When I was doing
research for this sermon I ran across a contemporary paraphrase of the psalm
intended for the workplace:
The Lord is my real boss
and I shall not want. He gives me peace, when chaos is all around me.
He gently reminds me to pray before I speak and to do all
things without murmuring and complaining.
He reminds me that He is my Source and not my job. He restores my sanity every day and guides my decisions that I might
honor Him in everything I do.
Even though I face absurd amounts of emails, system crashes,
unrealistic deadlines, budget cutbacks, gossiping co-workers, discriminating
supervisors, and an aging body that doesn't cooperate every morning, I will not
stop, for He is with me! His presence, His peace, and His power will see me through. He
raises me up, even when they fail to promote me. He
claims me as His own, even when the company threatens to let me go.
His faithfulness and love are better than any bonus check.
His retirement plan beats every 401K there is.
God has given us a spiritual home, a
place of refuge and peace. The Psalmist
calls it the House of the Lord, but it’s
not a house. It’s not a temple or a
piece of real estate that we have to fight for and defend. The House of the
Lord is not a place; it’s an awareness of presence through prayer. God is our
home, and heart is where the home is.
But, as Henri Nouwen once observed, too often it’s as though we’ve
forgotten our address and are living in the wrong place – living in the house
of fear instead of the house of the Lord. [Patricia Harris, “God Is Our Grateful Center”]
God’s alternative to this house of
fear is the house of love and prayer.
Nouwen refers to this house as “the
place where we can think, speak, and act in the ways of God, not in the ways of
the fear-filled world.” As
Christians, we believe that “dwelling in Christ” [John 6:56] fulfills the
promise of the 23rd Psalm, “I will dwell
in the house of the Lord forever.” We
believe that the living, spiritual presence of Christ invites us home. In John 15:4 he says: “Make
your home in me, as I make my home in you.”
The key to the House of the Lord,
the key to discovering peace, presence and shalom is the realization of the
psalmist's words, “Thou art with me.” [Craig Barnes, op.cit.] Once we come to realize that, recognizing
that heart is where the home is, we recognize the truth that “God prepares a table before me in the
presence of my enemies. God anoints my
head with oil and my cup overflows.
Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and
I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
The Shepherd beckons. The table is spread. Thanks be to God. Amen.