Message from Our Pastor
Pastor Cheryl Hoffman's sermon for Sunday, May 8, 2022.
Readings: Revelation 7:9-17, Psalm 23, John 10: 22-30
Today’s readings include one of the most controversial readings in all of scripture, the 23rd Psalm. How can Psalm 23 be controversial, you want to know? Psalm 23 is one of those texts you either love, or you hate. It either brings great comfort and peace, or it makes you roll your eyes.
There is one thing that everyone seems to agree on, including the other pastors at Tuesday’s pericope session, if you are going to use or recite the 23rd Psalm, it should be in the language of the Bible’s King James version.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. “He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Now, for the sake of full disclosure, I must admit that I fall in the second of the two categories I mentioned earlier. Psalm 23 is not my favorite. It’s much more likely to make my eyes roll than to make me feel wrapped in a warm blanket.
That having been said, there was a question asked Tuesday which made me go back and listen anew to those few verses. The question was, “Why do we reserve this Psalm for funerals?” With the exception of Good Shepherd Sunday and one Sunday during Lent, that’s where we most often hear and recite the 23rd Psalm, funerals and memorial services. Which is why it is not my favorite Psalm. It’s become pigeonholed and worn-out. At times, I think it’s as much a cliché, as it is a Psalm.
But there is so much more to the Psalm than the fourth verse, “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
And my colleague is right. This Psalm is for every day of life, “Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Even now, including today.
The promises offered us by the good shepherd of this Psalm, are not just ours in our darkest moments, or at the hour of our death, or in the midst of our deepest grief.
The shepherd guards and guides us no matter what kind of day we are having. I know that it is “forbidden,” but I have found a non-King James version of the 23rd Psalm that speaks more to the other hours, days and moments of life. This is from a book called Psalms / Now by Leslie Brandt:
"The Lord is my constant companion "There is no need that He cannot fulfill. "Whether His course for me points to the mountaintops of glorious ecstasyor to the valleys of human suffering, "He is by my side, "He is ever present with me. "He is close beside mewhen I tread the dark streets of danger,and even when I flirt with death itself, "He will not leave me. "When the pain is severe, "He is near to comfort "When the burden is heavy, "He is there to lean upon. "When depression darkens my soul, "He touches me with eternal joy. "When I feel empty and alone, "He fills the aching vacuum with His power. "My security is in His promise to be near to me always, and in the knowledge that "He will never let me go."
I know it’s not the poetry of King James, and there’s not even a mention of a shepherd, yet these words speak to me, even comfort me.
But there is no version of Psalm 23 going to speak to us, if our ears aren’t tuned in to the voice of the shepherd. “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me,” Jesus says in the gospel of John. We won’t know Jesus’ presence or his power, his comfort or his guidance, if we can’t recognize him. And, we know from all the resurrection stories, the resurrected Jesus isn’t recognized by sight. Not even those who learned at his feet and sat with him at the dinner table for three years, recognized the resurrected Jesus.
It wasn’t until Jesus called her name, then Mary recognized Jesus in the garden.
It wasn’t until Jesus introduced himself, then Saul knew who had ambushed him.
It wasn’t until Jesus gave thanks and broke the bread, then the disciples recognized the one with whom they had been talking on the road to Emmaus.
But to identify someone that way, to recognize their voice, you have to know them. You have to have spent time with them. You have to have had a meaningful relationship with them.
I ask you to close your eyes, and have one person read the first verse of the 23rd Psalm. Would you be able to identify who the reader is?
That is how well we have to know the shepherd’s voice. And, even more so, because the world is rarely as quiet. There are almost always other voices carrying on their own conversations. Some competing, even demanding, to be heard at the same time.
Even when we sit still in prayer, it is often hard to silence the voice in our head, so that we can clearly hear the voice of the shepherd. If we do hear, there is that matter of following. We love the idea of the good shepherd as the provider, the constant companion, the guide, the comforter, the gracious and merciful guardian. But we aren’t always so keen on being the sheep who follow, especially when we aren’t sure, in advance, where we are being led. Which leads us right back to the psalm. It doesn’t matter where the shepherd leads us, only that it’s the shepherd doing the leading and guiding for wherever we go we go together.
We are never alone. And because of this, we do, indeed, dwell in the house of the Lord forever. For this we say thanks be to God. Amen.
There is one thing that everyone seems to agree on, including the other pastors at Tuesday’s pericope session, if you are going to use or recite the 23rd Psalm, it should be in the language of the Bible’s King James version.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. “He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Now, for the sake of full disclosure, I must admit that I fall in the second of the two categories I mentioned earlier. Psalm 23 is not my favorite. It’s much more likely to make my eyes roll than to make me feel wrapped in a warm blanket.
That having been said, there was a question asked Tuesday which made me go back and listen anew to those few verses. The question was, “Why do we reserve this Psalm for funerals?” With the exception of Good Shepherd Sunday and one Sunday during Lent, that’s where we most often hear and recite the 23rd Psalm, funerals and memorial services. Which is why it is not my favorite Psalm. It’s become pigeonholed and worn-out. At times, I think it’s as much a cliché, as it is a Psalm.
But there is so much more to the Psalm than the fourth verse, “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
And my colleague is right. This Psalm is for every day of life, “Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Even now, including today.
The promises offered us by the good shepherd of this Psalm, are not just ours in our darkest moments, or at the hour of our death, or in the midst of our deepest grief.
The shepherd guards and guides us no matter what kind of day we are having. I know that it is “forbidden,” but I have found a non-King James version of the 23rd Psalm that speaks more to the other hours, days and moments of life. This is from a book called Psalms / Now by Leslie Brandt:
"The Lord is my constant companion "There is no need that He cannot fulfill. "Whether His course for me points to the mountaintops of glorious ecstasyor to the valleys of human suffering, "He is by my side, "He is ever present with me. "He is close beside mewhen I tread the dark streets of danger,and even when I flirt with death itself, "He will not leave me. "When the pain is severe, "He is near to comfort "When the burden is heavy, "He is there to lean upon. "When depression darkens my soul, "He touches me with eternal joy. "When I feel empty and alone, "He fills the aching vacuum with His power. "My security is in His promise to be near to me always, and in the knowledge that "He will never let me go."
I know it’s not the poetry of King James, and there’s not even a mention of a shepherd, yet these words speak to me, even comfort me.
But there is no version of Psalm 23 going to speak to us, if our ears aren’t tuned in to the voice of the shepherd. “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me,” Jesus says in the gospel of John. We won’t know Jesus’ presence or his power, his comfort or his guidance, if we can’t recognize him. And, we know from all the resurrection stories, the resurrected Jesus isn’t recognized by sight. Not even those who learned at his feet and sat with him at the dinner table for three years, recognized the resurrected Jesus.
It wasn’t until Jesus called her name, then Mary recognized Jesus in the garden.
It wasn’t until Jesus introduced himself, then Saul knew who had ambushed him.
It wasn’t until Jesus gave thanks and broke the bread, then the disciples recognized the one with whom they had been talking on the road to Emmaus.
But to identify someone that way, to recognize their voice, you have to know them. You have to have spent time with them. You have to have had a meaningful relationship with them.
I ask you to close your eyes, and have one person read the first verse of the 23rd Psalm. Would you be able to identify who the reader is?
That is how well we have to know the shepherd’s voice. And, even more so, because the world is rarely as quiet. There are almost always other voices carrying on their own conversations. Some competing, even demanding, to be heard at the same time.
Even when we sit still in prayer, it is often hard to silence the voice in our head, so that we can clearly hear the voice of the shepherd. If we do hear, there is that matter of following. We love the idea of the good shepherd as the provider, the constant companion, the guide, the comforter, the gracious and merciful guardian. But we aren’t always so keen on being the sheep who follow, especially when we aren’t sure, in advance, where we are being led. Which leads us right back to the psalm. It doesn’t matter where the shepherd leads us, only that it’s the shepherd doing the leading and guiding for wherever we go we go together.
We are never alone. And because of this, we do, indeed, dwell in the house of the Lord forever. For this we say thanks be to God. Amen.
© 2022, The Rev. Cheryl Lynn Hoffman. All rights reserved.