“That’s funny,” said one of the tourists to her companion. “I didn’t know that shepherds used whips.”
A bystander overheard and leaned over. “They don’t,” he confided. “That bloke’s no shepherd. He’s the town butcher.”
Today, this fourth Sunday in Eastertide, we hear-- as we do each year-- passages from scripture about shepherds. It might seem strange if this was less usual, but we hear these stories every year, and so even in our context where I am betting most of us have only been near sheep in a petting zoo at Purina Farms, we listen and nod appreciatively. We work with a kind of limited understanding of what real shepherding is all about (it’s lonely, and exposed to the elements, and kind of stinky and dirty in real life) because we know this to be a metaphor to talk about our relationship with God and God’s relationship with us.
But I am hoping we can lean in a bit today to what our readings say to us in our own lives right now—both in our lives together as a community and a nation, as well as our lives together as disciples of Christ, mostly through the lens of our beloved 23rd Psalm.
I started with this anecdote because the part of this psalm that has been speaking to me most loudly is the image of the rod and the staff that is at the very center of our psalm. It’s like the fulcrum. So let’s actually start there.
As I've been thinking about the verdict in the trial of the murderer of George Floyd, and meditating upon this psalm this week, that image of the rod and the staff have been haunting me. I've been thinking about when we invest people with tools and authorities that can cause injury and even death, we do so with the idea that those tools and authority are going to be used not against us but for us. In fact, most of us take that for granted. But we have to acknowledge that our own lack of concern is not shared by all of our kindred.
On the night of the verdict coming down, I listened to our own Presiding Bishop speaking with great emotion about how he too grew up knowing that the color of his skin could lead his interactions with the police to not be those of protection but to be those of suspicion at first sight. And this usually optimistic man of God, whose greatest theme is that God is love and God is the answer, was weeping in relief that perhaps with this small measure of accountability we could begin the work of making our justice system and law enforcement less a means of control of people of color and more a system in which all receive equal guidance and protection under the law.
We give our shepherds authority over us, expecting that they will protect us and care for us so that we may live together in peace and without anxiety. We see the presence of the rod to be used against those who terrorize and pose imminent threat to the sheep—not against the sheep themselves, even when they do stupid things, as sheep-- and people-- are prone to do.
It’s part of the lore of this psaslm that King David himself wrote this psalm, and before he was king, he was a shepherd. His musical skill was honed as her practiced his harp playing to the sheep, singing to them during the long days, and in that singing, intimately acquainting them with the sound of the voice of the one who was there to protect them and lead them. The shepherd constantly sings out to his sheep—some even read to them—so that running to the sound of his or her voice becomes instinctive. And indeed, in all my years working with adolescents, the best educators knew it was the power of their voice and the power of their relationship with the kids that most helped guide them and help them to feel safe enough to lower their guard and trust us as teachers-- and to de-escalate when the kids needed to calm down. It is the same way with shepherds.
So there are two roles being described here as we consider the shepherd as model of the good leader or protector, and that of the sheep as the protected, and what that protection means. This psalm is about the leader—and those who are led. And there are implications for our lives in examining both of these roles.
The psalm starts with a simple declaration: God is my shepherd. It’s a straightforward, wonder-filled statement in sureness (and sureness will be featured again in the last verse of the psalm). And if God is my shepherd, I know that he will feed me and care for me so that I will not be in want. All anxiety is therefore vanquished --dispelled in the imagery of green pastures of plenty and still waters to lie down beside. And all of us deserve that assurance in our lives with each other, too.
This reminds us of the responsibility we bear as sheep. In our current political climate, the term sheep is often used contemptuously to represent someone who just blindly follows without thinking for themselves. But the obverse is just as dangerous to our common life together: those who refuse to follow any guidance but their own prejudices, their insatiable appetites, their refusal to privilege facts over their own often paranoid opinions certainly seemed to be the loudest sheep around us at times. And that not only endangers the well being of all of the members of the community, it also denies the authority that God rightfully is owed within their lives --and ours.
We know that provision is also a vital part of leadership, despite what some leaders who are only interested in power say. They want to divorce their obligations from their power, and that only leads to the tyranny of the whip.
The power of the rod and staff is a grave responsibility. We know that the rod and staff are meant for assurance and protection rather than intimidation by our next image in Psalm 23: that of God as host and provider. That same shepherd who was willing to put his life on the line to protect us is also willing to offer us plenty even in the face of those who wish us ill. God doesn't just provide us with a meal --God provides us with a banquet right in the face of those who would torment us. Where we might otherwise be afraid to take our eyes off of those who wishes harm, God instead calls us to lay aside any concern, and instead to feast at a banquet prepared of the best things.
The descriptions of safety, plenty, belovedness, and abundance described in verses 1-5 of our psalm lead the psalmist to come to a conclusion of what this special relation of protection care and guidance means for their life: With God leading us, goodness and mercy will follow us through every moment of our lives. In other words, our lives are bookended by God In God's plenteous, unwavering gifts. God at the forefront, goodness and mercy bringing up our rearguard.
And so where does that leave us? Dwelling within the household of God for all eternity, yes, but most importantly, in the time we have right now. Some scholars originally took this last line to mean that the best life was one that was lived in the temple, within its boundaries. And yet the bulk of the Psalm actually doesn't suggest so. This is a psalm about living your life out in the world in the certainty of God’s love and in testimony and witness to God’s love --not shutting yourself up away from the vagaries of life. This last observation gives us the courage and strength to persevere through whatever may come, knowing that in the end nothing will ever separate us from the love and care of God. Not even death.
The purpose of the shepherd is not to conquer by division. The purpose of the shepherd is to make possible the creation of a good life. This psalm reminds us that God as our shepherd walks with us through our trials, even our own mistakes and foolishness, guiding and delivering us. We are never alone. We are always beloved. God has chosen us and anointed us, and provides us with all our hearts and souls need. But it also reminds us of how we should remember our common cause with all of the members of God’s flock, and how the leadership that God especially in Jesus models for us is a path of goodness and mercy for all of us as leaders and as followers. Jesus states flatly that he is willing to “lay down my life for my sheep…. of my own accord.”
Jesus seeks out all the lost sheep, and calls for us to do the same, remembering that we all fall within that category at times in our lives. Jesus calls to us, relentlessly, compassionately, taking the initiative to move toward us because only he can, and it is only when we still our own bleating that we can hear him. Luckily, he will wait and call us in the spaces and brief silences of our lives. We are scattered—but he calls us into one flock, despite our tendency to wander. Despite our tendency to fear. And goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our lives, bringing us into our true home.
With God, and with each other.
We give our shepherds authority over us, expecting that they will protect us and care for us so that we may live together in peace and without anxiety. We see the presence of the rod to be used against those who terrorize and pose imminent threat to the sheep—not against the sheep themselves, even when they do stupid things, as sheep-- and people-- are prone to do.
It’s part of the lore of this psaslm that King David himself wrote this psalm, and before he was king, he was a shepherd. His musical skill was honed as her practiced his harp playing to the sheep, singing to them during the long days, and in that singing, intimately acquainting them with the sound of the voice of the one who was there to protect them and lead them. The shepherd constantly sings out to his sheep—some even read to them—so that running to the sound of his or her voice becomes instinctive. And indeed, in all my years working with adolescents, the best educators knew it was the power of their voice and the power of their relationship with the kids that most helped guide them and help them to feel safe enough to lower their guard and trust us as teachers-- and to de-escalate when the kids needed to calm down. It is the same way with shepherds.
So there are two roles being described here as we consider the shepherd as model of the good leader or protector, and that of the sheep as the protected, and what that protection means. This psalm is about the leader—and those who are led. And there are implications for our lives in examining both of these roles.
The psalm starts with a simple declaration: God is my shepherd. It’s a straightforward, wonder-filled statement in sureness (and sureness will be featured again in the last verse of the psalm). And if God is my shepherd, I know that he will feed me and care for me so that I will not be in want. All anxiety is therefore vanquished --dispelled in the imagery of green pastures of plenty and still waters to lie down beside. And all of us deserve that assurance in our lives with each other, too.
This reminds us of the responsibility we bear as sheep. In our current political climate, the term sheep is often used contemptuously to represent someone who just blindly follows without thinking for themselves. But the obverse is just as dangerous to our common life together: those who refuse to follow any guidance but their own prejudices, their insatiable appetites, their refusal to privilege facts over their own often paranoid opinions certainly seemed to be the loudest sheep around us at times. And that not only endangers the well being of all of the members of the community, it also denies the authority that God rightfully is owed within their lives --and ours.
We know that provision is also a vital part of leadership, despite what some leaders who are only interested in power say. They want to divorce their obligations from their power, and that only leads to the tyranny of the whip.
The descriptions of safety, plenty, belovedness, and abundance described in verses 1-5 of our psalm lead the psalmist to come to a conclusion of what this special relation of protection care and guidance means for their life: With God leading us, goodness and mercy will follow us through every moment of our lives. In other words, our lives are bookended by God In God's plenteous, unwavering gifts. God at the forefront, goodness and mercy bringing up our rearguard.
And so where does that leave us? Dwelling within the household of God for all eternity, yes, but most importantly, in the time we have right now. Some scholars originally took this last line to mean that the best life was one that was lived in the temple, within its boundaries. And yet the bulk of the Psalm actually doesn't suggest so. This is a psalm about living your life out in the world in the certainty of God’s love and in testimony and witness to God’s love --not shutting yourself up away from the vagaries of life. This last observation gives us the courage and strength to persevere through whatever may come, knowing that in the end nothing will ever separate us from the love and care of God. Not even death.
The purpose of the shepherd is not to conquer by division. The purpose of the shepherd is to make possible the creation of a good life. This psalm reminds us that God as our shepherd walks with us through our trials, even our own mistakes and foolishness, guiding and delivering us. We are never alone. We are always beloved. God has chosen us and anointed us, and provides us with all our hearts and souls need. But it also reminds us of how we should remember our common cause with all of the members of God’s flock, and how the leadership that God especially in Jesus models for us is a path of goodness and mercy for all of us as leaders and as followers. Jesus states flatly that he is willing to “lay down my life for my sheep…. of my own accord.”
Jesus seeks out all the lost sheep, and calls for us to do the same, remembering that we all fall within that category at times in our lives. Jesus calls to us, relentlessly, compassionately, taking the initiative to move toward us because only he can, and it is only when we still our own bleating that we can hear him. Luckily, he will wait and call us in the spaces and brief silences of our lives. We are scattered—but he calls us into one flock, despite our tendency to wander. Despite our tendency to fear. And goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our lives, bringing us into our true home.
With God, and with each other.
Amen.
Preached at the 10:30 online service on Good Shepherd Sunday (the 4th Sunday in Easter) April 25, 2021 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Ellisville.
Readings:
Citations:
1) Top image: The Sheep, the Gate, the Shepherd, copyright Laura James. Used with Permission.
2) Last Image: The Good Shepherd, copyright Laura James. Used with permission.
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