A Sermon preached by the Rev. Michael Anderson Bullock
[Jeremiah 23:1-6; Ephesians 2:11-22; Mark 6:30-35; 53-56]
The Lord is my shepherd…1
Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture.2
…they were like sheep without a shepherd…3
It’s pretty clear what today’s theme is from our scriptures. With this in mind, I want to set the stage by beginning this sermon with another reference to the four questions posted near the parish hall entrance. Acting as they do like a spiritual compass point, they are meant to guide us in our continuous quest to live our lives in faith as clearly and as reliably as we can. The questions4 are:
What is the nature of your god?
What is the content of your faith?
What is the purpose of your prayer?
What is the function of your church?
I specifically want to focus on the first question: What is the nature of your god? I do this for two reasons. The first is to be in concert with the dominant theme of today’s lections and to ask: What kind of shepherd is your God? The second focus stems from the failed assassination attempt on the life of former President Donald Trump and the flow of comments about what God did or didn’t do in that event.
Taking the second issue first, I am deeply troubled by what I have heard about God saving Mr. Trump from death because the Holy One has a greater purpose for him in mind. What does this notion (too commonly and bipartisanly held, I might add) – what does this perspective say about the nature of our God? the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ? Was the near miss on Mr. Trump’s life an act of God? If this is one’s perspective on God’s nature, what understanding can we have that another shot went into the head of a firefighter, who had placed his body over his family in order to shield them? Why did that bullet hit in such a deadly way and Mr. Trump’s be a glancing blow? Why did one bullet kill and the other nick? In terms of today’s biblical theme, what kind of shepherd would act like this?
Now let me cool down my own theological heat to say that I am not in the practice of defining what God can and cannot do, will or will not do. After all, being the Maker of heaven and earth clearly has its rights and privileges. Yet, having said this, I also need to say that I am not immune to the common temptation to make God in my own image and have the Maker of heaven and earth fulfill my expectations, that my will be done.
I know that I am not alone in this temptation. Nonetheless, the underlying question remains: What is the nature of our God? Is the Holy One a divine vending machine that provides what we request? And what happens when our request is not fulfilled? Or is our notion of God one that perceives an ancient superhero bursting in on us to save us? Or is the Holy One our shepherd? What kind of shepherd?
What is the nature of our God? What kind of shepherd is the Father of Lights? More specifically, what resource or resources might we consult to begin to respond to these questions?
Clearly, scripture is a key resource in learning about God and the God-life; but contrary to its merchandising and weaponization, scripture is not about answers so much as the Bible is about telling, hearing, and living a story -- a story about Who and what is “the source of light and life” and how that life-giving Source moves and lives among us.
Psalm 23 is a good and familiar place to enter scripture’s story. It is the most well-known of the psalms (as if the other 149 need not exist!). Yet, its common (and sometimes addictive) usage too frequently misses the clarifying point it makes about the nature of our God, the nature of our God as our shepherd. So, I want briefly to look at what this tender and challenging psalm conveys about our God.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. This opening verse has the capacity to capture our heart’s attention and address our soul’s yearning. The Lord being our shepherd speaks to what might be the deepest need humankind has: the need to belong in a caring relationship. This opening line and shepherding imagery convey that we belong to the Holy One, and that this belonging entails being in a caring connection with the One who always tends the entire flock: no exceptions. Being assured of this is often all many of us want, but there is more than this, both more about the shepherd and to the shepherd’s caring.
In his caring and oversight, the psalm says that the shepherd makes us lie down in green pastures and leads us beside still waters. The shepherd leads: Not an easy or automatic task, given the nature of sheep.
For most of our married life, Bev and I have had German Shepherd dogs. In fact, we have two now; and they cause a bit of trouble when their herding instincts kick in. For instance, when our grandkids use our pool and start doing loud and dynamic things (like racing across the yard and jumping wildly into the water), Robbie (our three-year-old) instinctively knows that they are in danger of killing themselves! Consequently, he will nip at the kids’ heels in order to steer them away from the danger. His predecessor, Oliver, used to frustrate a young Una to death, because as she walked along the side of the pool, 93-pound Ollie would put his body between her and the water, as if he were a canine guardrail! The point is that being a shepherd often frustrates what sheep want to do. Shepherding is not a passive activity. For instance, while it is a good and necessary thing to be led to lush pasture, providing still water for the flock to drink is not simply a serene accoutrement. Far from it. For sheep are deathly afraid of running water; and they will risk dying of thirst rather than confronting moving water.
So, perhaps the caption of what appears to be such a pastoral scene might be: “Be careful! If you come here, the shepherd might nip at your heels. You may not like it, but it is for your own good!” Belonging. Cared for.
The next step that Psalm 23 provides in terms of defining what our caring shepherd does also starts with a disarming reiteration of what it means to belong to this shepherd’s flock. He revives my soul. The Hebrew word that is translated in the text as “soul” is nefesh, which in its non-abstract, non-sentimental meaning is “life-breath”, as in “you give me the breath of life”.
Anyone who has ever given or received artificial respiration clearly knows the life-saving aspects of nefesh, of participating in the “life’s breath” process. At this point it is good to remember the Genesis creation story, where God gathers the dust of the earth and blows his life-giving breath into the “dust man”, the Ahdam, who consequently becomes alive. Acknowledging this inspirational act has resulted in the cultural custom that when someone sneezes, the common refrain is “God bless you”. Once upon a time, it was thought that sneezing expelled God’s “life-breath” and subjected a person to a very vulnerable state.
Our God, our shepherd provides the breath of life, and we who receive it have the fruit of that inspiration.
But as with the notion of a caring shepherd to whom his flock belongs, this “life-breath” is given for two reasons. The first indicated reason is that the flock needs this “breath-life” because the flock has a long journey ahead of them. They are to move along what the psalm calls the “right” pathway, one that ostensibly leads the flock to where they need to be; but it is a pathway on which there are no uber lifts available! The sheep need to walk even in and through the notorious “Valley of Death’s shadow”. At which point you’d think that the sheep might consider using a different travel agent to avoid this unwanted experience. But no: The psalm quickly and confidently says that the flock will not fear because the shepherd is right with them, by their side. The inspirational point is that the shepherd’s presence is the key. (Hold onto this point.)
In this light it is interesting to consider that moving sheep and moving cattle entail a very different sort of presence. Cattle are driven from behind; sheep are led by the shepherd. The sheep can follow the shepherd’s example of belonging and caring. But yet again, the apparent serenity of this soothing reality is sobered by reality itself. There are situations and conditions in which fear exists. Yet, the psalm says that the reality of the fear is quelled by the shepherd’s presence; and that shepherding presence is manifest not just in bodily form but also in another outward and visible sign: namely, the shepherd’s staff.
We are told that the mere sight of the shepherd’s staff provides “comfort” – comfort that overcomes paralyzing fear. The shepherd’s staff allows the sheep to see that the shepherd is prepared to act for the flock, that the sheep can follow, trusting the shepherd even though the journey gets rough.
Two things from the image of the shepherd’s staff and what it conveys about this “comfort”. The word “comfort” has a double meaning. On the one hand, who doesn’t like being comforted? When we are at the end of our rope and in distress, who doesn’t need consolation, relief, a renewed sense of being in belonging’s care? But left at this stage, “comfort” as analgesic can lead to a regular desire for relief, to the extent that numbness is what is craved. This is where the other side of “comfort” needs to come into play with its meaning: “com” – “fort” -- “to strengthen”.
At this “comfort” point the second aspect of the visible shepherd’s staff comes into play; and every Episcopalian should recognize it immediately!
We are, after all, an “episcopal” Church, a church with “bishops”. “Episcopos” is Greek for “bishop”; and one of the visible and outward signs of a bishop’s office lies in the staff he or she carries liturgically. When Psalm 23 mentions the shepherd’s comforting “rod and staff”, once more there is a double meaning present; and that double meaning is visible in every bishop’s staff that I know. The top part of the staff is the one we like and can swoon over because it is shaped in the form of a crook: a design that allows the shepherd quite literally to pluck a sheep out of danger. Shepherd as lifeguard, savior.
Yet. The lower end of the shepherd’s staff is not so lovely as it is blunt. It is this blunt end that the shepherd uses to “bop” the stubborn or frozen-in-fear sheep to get them to move back onto the “right pathway”. As a general rule, neither actual nor metaphorical sheep like the blunt end of the shepherd’s staff. But that blunt end has a caring function, too.
One last observation about the nature and function of a shepherd, specifically our Shepherd; and that is that there is good news and hard news about belonging to the flock and in taking the shepherd’s direction along the way.
Psalm 23 seems to indicate that at the end of the shepherding journey, a festival table awaits. Good news: Following the shepherd concludes with a celebratory party -- a kind of “you made it!” blast. However, the party’s “guest list” is a bit shocking and even a threat. For whom do we see standing around the festive table but our “enemies”: the very people who have the capacity to keep us sleepless and fretful.
What is the nature of our God? What kind of shepherd is the Lord? Whatever the details are in our response, I know that no Hallmark Card that can carry the weight of an adequate answer.
My own response to these shepherding questions returns me to Mr. Trump’s brush with death last week. In his recounting of those disturbing moments when he realized that he had been shot and being covered with his own blood, he spoke of his sense of serenity at that moment. He was deeply and surprisingly calm because, as he said, he knew that God was “on his side”.
I have no way of knowing with any precision what the former President meant by this statement; but unlike so many other of his statements, this one was undeniably true. God was on his side because that’s the nature of our God. “Emmanuel: God with us”. Our Shepherd is present to us, whether we can recognize it or not. It’s God’s nature. It is what life-giving love is all about. But – but there is also another part to this truth that God is on our side; and this part must never, ever be left behind. It is this: Are we on God’s side? And to the extent that we might be, what does a life on God’s side look like?
The Lord is my shepherd…
Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture.
…they were like sheep without a shepherd…
Amen.
1. Psalm 23:1
2. Jeremiah 23:1
3. Mark 6:34
4. Jon Dominic Crossan is the source of these questions.
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