Scripture: Psalm 23 (New Century Version)
The New Century Version is based on a translation of the Bible called The International Children’s Bible, which was published in the 1980’s for the purpose of simplifying and clarifying the language of the Bible, to make it easily understandable and usable by modern readers of all ages. In 1991, the age-level of the vocabulary was raised a little bit, to make the translation more acceptable to more mature readers, without losing the simplicity and clarity of the original. This updated version was named The New Century Version.
In the verses we are focusing on today – the ones about being led on the right path for the sake of God’s name, it’s helpful to note the original meaning of two words in particular.
First, when the psalmist says the LORD “leads” us in paths of righteousness, the word used for “leads” is different than the one used for the LORD’s leading us beside still waters. When it comes to paths of righteousness, the “leading” of the LORD has the sense of leading in new directions, and guiding into unfamiliar territory – kind of like “breaking new ground” or “carving out new trails” for us to follow.
Alongside this, the word used for “path” in “paths of righteousness” is the word used for circular and winding paths that must be followed through rough and wild terrain, or down a hillside where switchbacks are needed to keep the path from being too steep. Evidently the paths of righteousness are not simple and straightforward.
The Lord
is my shepherd;
I have everything I need.
He lets me rest in green pastures.
He leads me to calm water.
He gives me new strength.
He leads me on paths that are right
for the good of his name.
Even if I walk through a very dark valley,
I will not be afraid,
because you are with me.
Your rod and your shepherd’s staff comfort me.
You prepare a meal for me
in front of my enemies.
You pour oil of blessing on my head;
you fill my cup to overflowing.
Surely your goodness and love will be with me
all my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord
forever.
Reflection
A number of years ago I saw a cartoon in the
newspaper, picturing a little angel and Old-Man-God on a cloud. The angel – an innocent little cherub
floating by God’s right shoulder, is looking over the edge of the cloud, and
says, “God, Protestants and Catholics are fighting one other in your name; Jews
and Arabs are at war in your name; Hindus and Muslims are killing each other in
your name… What are you going to do?”
Old-Man-God, looking worn and weary, says, “I think
I have to change my name.”
We get it. And that’s even before we add to the list things like the cultural genocide of indigenous and First Nations peoples in God’s name. Terrible acts of terrorism committed in God’s name. Continuing acts of violence against gays, blacks, liberals, women – even against democracy, in God’s name.
It’s because we know the list keeps getting added to in each generation, that we get it. And I wonder to what extent I am part of that picture – not the little angel, nor Old-Man-God, but part of the human drama the angel sees played out, and that wears God out.
My first year of preparation for ministry was at a conservative evangelical theology school, and part way through second term another first-year student was talking with me about the kinds of questions I was asking and the theology I was expressing in class, and at the end said, “Whatever makes you think you are called to be a minister with views like that?” I was taken aback, but looking back on it I have to confess a certain amount of insecure pride, self-righteousness, and a bit of delight in the way I was doing what I was doing, that did not reflect well on any call of God on my life, or any good work God was doing through me. I was not as pure or holy-minded as I liked to think I was.
And since then, how many times have I troubled the angels and made God weary with my behaviour, my attitudes, even something as simple as a too-poorly-thought-out and too-quickly-sent Facebook post or email or comment … or some act of selfishness … or a failure to show love for another in a meaningful way?
And isn't that what we prayed this morning in our Prayer for Forgiveness? That we have sinned against God in thought, word and deed? That we have not loved God with all our being, and not loved our neighbour as ourself?
Years ago, when planning the funeral for Jean Jones – mother to Kathy and grand-mother to Hilary, I was told it was often her practice to send her children out from the house and into the world with the words, “Remember whose child you are!” Partly for their sake, I’m sure. And for her sake, and the sake of her good name in town.
Can you imagine God bearing us into the world from the divine womb, with holy Word and Spirit alive in us, shouting out to us as we go, “Remember whose child you are!”
And why does God do this? Why does God hang so much of God’s own good name on us, and place so much trust in us?
The answer can only be that this is the way God is, and the only way really that we will ever come to be what we are to be. Thank God, though, that we are not left alone and just to our own devices. At least, not unless we choose to be.
The psalmist reflects on this in Psalm 23. The psalmist begins with an affirmation of the LORD as his shepherd in life, and of his commitment to be one of the flock of this shepherd’s leading. The psalmist then recalls that God leads him to oases along the way to help him rest, be nourished, and be reminded over and over that he is not alone, not self-contained, but by the grace and good will of God, living in communion with a sacred and secular reality bigger and better than just himself.
And then comes the journey itself – the life-long walk with God that the times of nourishing and strengthening are for. The journey that the green pastures, quiet waters and soul-restoring times are meant to help us make. And when it comes to the journey – our actual life-walk with God, it’s interesting how the psalmist pictures it.
In the translation this morning: “He leads me on paths that are right / for the good of his name. / Even if I walk through a very dark valley, / I will not be afraid, / because you are with me. / Your rod and your shepherd’s staff comfort me.”
The Hebrew word translated here as “leads” is not the same word used for “leads” in the verse before, about being led to still waters and green pastures. That word has the sense of being led over familiar paths, and in ways we already know. This time, though, in being led on right paths, the word has a different sense of being guided to an unfamiliar place. Being led in ways we’re not sure of, into new territory where without being closely guided, we could easily get lost. It seems the right paths are not familiar to us. They’re not the way we’re used to following.
Even the word “path” is quite unique as well. It’s a word that refers to the kind of circular paths and paths with switch-backs built into them that a shepherd uses to help his flock find a way down a steep hill. Or to guide them through unfamiliar, rocky and uneven terrain, where this just isn’t a simple, fast, straightforward way, where a way through is hard to find.
Does that sound at all like the journey of life? Like what it’s like to walk with God? Beyond the welcome routine of spiritual nurture and encouragement, being led into unfamiliar places and new experiences, that demand constantly and closely following the shepherd if you’re going to make it through and not be lost along the way?
It makes me realize we do not know in advance what life will bring us and what the right path through will be. What surprises there will be. What new things or issues to consider. And that as we follow, make us wonder sometimes if we’re even still on the right path.
From his experience, the psalmist offers a picture of what the right path looks like and feels like when we’re on it. “Even if I walk through a very dark valley, [some call it the valley of the shadow of death] / I will not be afraid, / because you are with me. / Your rod and your shepherd’s staff comfort me.”
The right path – God’s path, often – maybe always, involves some kind of dying, some kind of letting go, some kind of walking through deep and dark not-knowingness.
Dying at times to our own wants and needs, saying, “No, not this time” to our own comfort, out of love for someone else. Letting go of familiar ways of doing things, and of habitual privilege and power over other – again, for the good and well-being of others. Learning sometimes to question and let go of particular certainties and beliefs that no longer speak well of God – or that maybe never spoke of well, except now we know it. In all these ways and so many more, being guided and called by the shepherd to lay down parts of our selves – even our whole self, for others.
Even with all of this, though, do we ever really know for sure what is the guiding of God, and what is the inclination of our own heart? A really new path God is guiding us into – or the same old way, just dressed up a little differently to make it look new?
In really finding God’s new way, I wonder if it helps to read the psalmist’s words in a slightly different way, and to see the hard pathway into which God guides us for the sake of God’s good name, as the pathway into someone else’s dark valley, into the depths of someone else’s shadowed time, into the terrible anxiety of someone else’s suffering?
Not rushing into other people’s situations of distress with ready answers and tried-and-true solutions, thinking we know how to fix whatever their sorrow is. But actually walking with them in their valley, sitting with them in their darkness, letting myself really feel the emptiness and anxiety that life in this world has brought them.
Getting back to my preparation and life as a minister, one of the jobs I’ve had was campus chaplain at McMaster University. Working there, I offered pastoral counselling to students who were in distress over all variety of things. Being on campus, both they and I had a finely tuned internal clock geared to one-hour intervals. And often, as they sat in my office, opened up their sorrows and questions and I listened to them, 40 or 45 minutes I would find myself thinking, “Oh my goodness, this is only getting darker and deeper. How on earth will we ever find our way out of this darkness and despair?” (Or, maybe more honestly, “how on earth can I prove myself a good minister in the next 10 or 15 minutes?”)
More often than not, though, as they shared what they were honestly struggling with, and I resisted the urge to leap to some tried-and-true answer, to offer them some easy assurance, or just pray with them in some kind of way to get them off my hands and into God’s (and still look good), before the hour was up – often in the last few minutes, a glimmer of light totally new to both of us would appear from somewhere, in my words or the student’s, suggesting a new way of looking at something – a way we’d not thought of before, and a particular next, newly-found at that moment, good step that could be taken – by them and sometimes by me along with them, to help continue the journey, one step at a time.
I can only attribute that glimmer of light and the surprising revelation of a next good step, to the presence of the shepherd walking with us, as we honestly gave ourselves – and only as we honestly gave ourselves together to the darkness of the journey.
So, I wonder, is there some darkness, some deep valley and anxiety in your life, that you have yet to open up and face, and share with others?
For His name’s sake.
And is there maybe some darkness, some deep sorrow, some terrible suffering felt by someone else, that you – maybe that all of us, could be taking more seriously?
For His name’s sake.
Well Done
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