O LORD, you are my shepherd –
I want nothing more.
You let me lie down in green meadows;
you lead me beside restful waters:
you refresh my soul.
You guide me to lush pastures
for the sake of your Name.
Even if I’m surrounded by shadows of Death,
I fear no danger, for you are with me.
Your rod and your staff –
they give me courage.
You spread a table for me
in the presence of my enemies,
and you anoint my head with oil –
my cup overflows!
Only goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in your house, O LORD,
for days without end.

Psalm 23 is one of the most familiar pieces of Biblical scripture. For some it is far too familiar. Having spent much time in childhood being asked to memorize it again and again. For some it is a source of comfort providing connection to loved ones who have died offering words of support and presence.

In structure, it is a poem. A piece of art, which, as is the nature of art will engage each of us in different ways and may engage us individually in different ways at different points in our lives.

I confess that I, personally, haven’t often given much time or energy to really experiencing this poem. I think I have often let its familiarity be an excuse to gloss over it, block it out, not really give it space or a chance to speak to me, much less assure or comfort me.

Yet this week, as I sat with this poem and studied it, I began to see within it the beauty that it speaks to. A beauty that is embodied by God’s love and presence with us. A beauty that takes the form of comfort, protection, provision. A beauty that care takes in our moments of need and walks with us in our journeys of grief, leading us to a place of healing, love and mercy.

After experiencing the turbulence of the Kansas City MCUSA convention two weeks ago and living through yet another week of the news reporting acts of violence in our country and the continuing conflicts and ongoing displacement of people around the globe, I was in need of some words of comfort.

This week I opened myself up to metaphor. Specifically to the metaphor of God as a shepherd. There are, of course, many metaphors for God in scripture. They are tools that offer us small handles on the ineffable character of God. All metaphors break down when pushed too far, but they can be a rich treasure of connection in moments.

The handle on God offered by Psalm 23 is that of a shepherd. This is fitting as the authorship of this Psalm is traditionally ascribed to David, a shepherd himself before becoming the honorable (and at times dishonorable) King of Israel. This lovingly crafted imagery of what a shepherd does springs directly from the experience of one who spent time and energy in the role of shepherding. That perspective becomes a gift as it is translated into poetic form and applied to the character of God. The attributes of being a shepherd are offered to God by one who truly knows the depth of love, care, and effort that shepherding require. A shepherd, according to the psalmist, is a protector, a teacher, a guide, and a provider. All of these attributes are bound up in the promise and action of presence. A shepherd’s role requires presence.

The 23^rd Psalm affirms the presence of God even in literary structure for at the very core, at the heart of the poem, almost literally at the center, we find this reminder:

You are with me
God is present
In all things
In all times
God is present.

____________________

If we follow the metaphor of God as a shepherd through to God’s relationship with us, then that makes us sheep. What does it mean to be sheep?

My niece Ailey was here to visit us last week. She has grown up on an intentional community sheep farm in West Virginia. With this question of what it means to be a sheep in my head I asked her some questions about what it is like to live around and care for sheep. She mentioned many characteristics of sheep that we could probably spend a lot of time unraveling as metaphors for humans in relationship with God. I will simply mention a few here leaving the application of these characteristics to us as humans up to each of you in your own ponderings.

Ailey tells me that:

Contrary to most people’s assumptions, sheep are not soft to touch – they are wooly, but not soft and fluffy. [With the exception of their ears, their ears can be quite soft]

Mamas and babies call to each other across the field and they know each other’s voices.

Young lambs try to break out of pens more often than the older sheep.

Babies and mamas have to be fed separately so that the babies actually get some of the provided food.

The sheep eat both grain and a mineral supplement which they consume at different rates.

Sheep are sheared just before summer so that hot days are bearable.

Sheep poo a lot (and shepherds get to clean up that poo when it happens in the barn).

Sheep live in community – even the ram, which is kept separate from the ewes until breeding season, needs a eunich buddy for companionship during the off season days.

Sheep need to be moved from pasture to pasture to ensure there is grazing food available.

Sheep provide resources for the shepherd such as wool.

Sheep are not the smartest of creatures.

There is much more that could be said about sheep, but what this points at to me, is this:

Sheep are needy.

Now that is something we as humans, although we may be loath to admit it, can relate to. We are not totally self-sufficient. Even when we think we have our stuff together, life in the form of context, relationships, culture, illness, prejudice, and on and on places stumbling blocks on our paths usually requiring us to look beyond our own capacity.

In the Mark 6 passages that were read today we can clearly see human need in action. Everywhere Jesus and the disciples go, crowds of people gather around them, eager for insights into the reign of God seeking hope and desperate for healing. These are humans in need. And Jesus, seeing their need, has compassion. For they were like sheep without a shepherd.

Jesus, the one who shows us what is it to live for God and like God steps in as a shepherd to lead, provide for, and care take to those around him in need. His willingness to be present draws people to him, offering them hope and an opportunity for healing.

Yet in these verses it isn’t just Jesus that is drawing the crowds. When the text picks up today at verse 30 the disciples are just returning to Jesus after being empowered and sent by him into the surrounding countryside to teach and heal on their own. They are excitedly reporting to Jesus all that they have done and taught. As Jesus and the disciples travel together to find a place of rest, people they pass recognize both Jesus and his disciples for the work they have been doing  and being people in need they eagerly follow them. Jesus makes the choice to act as a shepherd to those in need, and he also empowers his followers to do the same.

God, the great shepherd, is present in all times and in all things. Yet, as Jesus has shown, God’s unfailing presence does not relieve us of also being present when there is need. Sheep in fields are active participants in the life of the community, they are cared for by the shepherd, and they are also companions to each other. For while we are needy creatures, we are also needed creatures.

When we choose to walk in faith, we are choosing to walk with awareness to the limits of our own capacity and to the needs of those outside of ourselves.

We are shepherded by God and we live in the presence of God’s love. That same love empowers us to be companions and shepherds to those around us and to let others accompany and shepherd us in moments of need.

We started this exploration today with a poem: the 23^rd Psalm.

As I already said, when someone with experience caretaking for sheep writes a poem that offers the characteristics of a shepherd to God, the meaning of the presence and love that is being attributed to God is intentional.

Likewise, it can hardly be lost on that same writer the implied attributes of sheepiness that are by default applied to God’s people.

A shepherd cares for sheep.

A shepherd protects and provides for sheep.

A shepherd offers presence to sheep.

And through all of this, a shepherd gains the experience to know and expect the full and unpredictable nature of sheep and loves them still.

With that in mind, I want to close with a poem written by Cheryl Denise, another member of the intentional community sheep farm that my niece Ailey grew up on in West Virginia. It offers yet another reflection on the reality of shepherding and the nature of sheep. May it, like the 23^rd Psalm, also offer us a small handle on the nature of our relationship with God.

May we begin to see the mercy and grace extended to us and may we have the courage to offer that grace to those around us.

Our Jacob Sheep – by Cheryl Denise – from the book: I Saw God Dancing

People always ask,
they know your voice;
they follow you?

I am not Jesus
and these sheep follow
an old drywall bucket with feed
that I shake
while yelling, Eh Woolly Woolly,
hoping they’ll follow me.

They ignore me
then one by one stare
stark-faced at the pail
until some ewe baas,
runs.

Dennis and Mike herd from behind,
sprawled arms waving the way.

They chase me
out the gate
past the pines
down the hill
a sharp left
into their new pasture,
feed jostles,
ewes bawl,
as if I won’t feed the last ones in.

Not all of them come.
I yell louder,
violently shake the bucket.
Suddenly the rest bolt in,
Mike behind them.

I pour feed in wooden troughs,
burly wool bodies press against my legs.
Dennis closes the gate,
sighs.

Jesus must have been talking about
some different breed,
ours are biblical but old testament.
After we’ve led them to greener pastures
they crowd in the corner
stressed and shuffling,
like teenagers their first day back at school.

I never much liked their namesake,
Jacob,
that soft skinned mama’s boy
stealing Esau’s birthright.
Maybe the sheep sense it.

No, I tell anyone who asks,
our sheep are not what Jesus had in mind,
but maybe more like us.