Rev. George Miller
August 31, 2025
Psalm 23
Tuesday was the 1st day of St.
Lucas
Pre-School, which meant lots of crying
from our 2 year-olds.
Our talented teachers knew how to best
deal with it- let the children feel their emotion, be there for them, keep them
safe.
The ones with tears in their eyes are like
little lost sheep, wondering what dark valley they’ve been left in.
Eventually it came time for the
playground. There was one little girl
with curls who had some speed on her.
Every chance she had she broke away to run for freedom. Down the path, across the graveyard; a school
shepherd never less than 2 steps away.
We get to the playground. Curly Sue cries, contorts her body, tries to
make another run for it.
Finally, (filamente!), the gates of the
playground open and she says “The slide.” All tears end as she climbs the stairs. She had found her green pastures…
“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.” There is something so transcendent about this
sentence. The moment we hear it, our nervous system quiets and our busy mind
lays down.
Ever wonder what Jesus knew about Psalm 23,
or how often he would say these words to others, and to himself?
How did Psalm 23 inspire the way Jesus
taught, saw, cared for others?
Today we end our Summer with a Scripture submitted
from last year’s Stump The Pastor. They
had just 1 request- that it not be related to death.
That 1 request was brilliant, motivating a
deep dive, unearthing unknown things about the Psalm.
On the surface it is a song about daily
living- eating, drinking, rhythm, and routine. Comfort. But most likely it is about survival and how
to live when absolutely nothing is routine.
So let’s take that dive and look at the history
of this influential Psalm.
Though Bibles and preachers in the past
have attributed Psalm 23 to King David, evidence suggests it was written about
400 years after King David, composed in Babylon.
A brief bit of history. Though Jerusalem was founded to be a holy
city, it rarely was the Camelot it could have been. So much injustice, deceit, unkind acts to honest
folk trying to earn their daily bread.
The actions of Isreal’s kings put them in a
vulnerable position. Babylon raids them,
destroys their businesses, olive groves, vineyards, and homes.
Those who were deemed worthy and important
were taken Northward, on a 900-mile trek through the Fertile Crecent Trade
Route; 4 months of walking under duress, leaving behind the only home they
knew.
When the deportees arrive in Babylon, they
are faced with radical differences.
In Babylon there is the consumption of pork
and shellfish, food boiled with blood, and meat served with milk, all things a
faithful follower of God would never consume.
The city is smothered in the smells of
bacon, Burger King, and Old Bay Seasoning, a constant assault on the Jewish
people’s noses.
Instead of worshipping one god, the people
of Babylon worship many- Marduk, Nabu, Ishtar.
Their king believes he’s been chosen by the gods.
Daily life is filled with public parades to
these gods with people tossing flowers, singing songs. If you
don’t participate in the festivals, folk give you the side eye, start rumors, call
you disloyal which can lead to arrest, execution, or forced labor.
For 50 years the people of God were in
Exile. With each generation their
children began to adapt some of these different customs, wanting to go to the Temple
of Marduk, listen to the songs of Nabu, go to the cookout for Ishtar, even
attend a parade and toss flowers to Babylon’s gods.
And their parents, grandparents had to wonder,
with great heartbreak- will our kids remember who they are?
Will our future family remember the old
ways, the traditions, the songs we used to sing and the stories we told about
The Lord, our God?
Under these historic circumstances Psalm
23 was most likely written, not about death, but about survival; life.
Life lived in reality. Life lived in struggle. Life in which dark
valleys, unrighteous paths and eating in front of your enemies were real
things.
When Psalm 23 starts with “The Lord is my
shepherd,” it is a very daring, brave thing to say. It is a pastoral, political, passionate
statement of faith, saying-
“I don’t care where I live or what those
around me do, the Lord, the one and only God, is my shepherd. Not Marduk, not Ishtar, and certainly not
King Nebuchadnezzar!”
The Lord is my shepherd. God will lead me. Even though I walk through dark valleys. Because the truth is, the people had been
forced to trudge through 900 miles of valleys.
Some valleys were lush but foreign, others
marshy with overwhelming horizons. There
were arid, stark valleys full of scrub vegetation and summer heat.
Yet, somehow they believed that God was
with them, comforting them, keeping them brave.
Though the author of Psalm 23 may have been
stollen away to Baylon, seeing unholy festivities outside their window,
smelling roast pork and stewed shellfish, they envision the tranquility of a
godly home- a lush banquet, familiar food to enjoy, drink to sip in overflowing
cups.
In verse 4 the author states “For you are
with me.” Its placement is so vital- exactly
in the middle.
The phrase “For you are with me” is foundational,
like that rock we discussed last week- a rock to stand on when all else is shaky
ground.
Here the poet makes another pastoral, political,
passionate plea- they are resting their whole existence on God, trusting in God’s
provision, guidance, protection; trusting in God’s heritage.
Psalm 23 is not so much words to say when
someone dies, but words to say by everyone as we live.
Most likely, this is a song by and for
people who should have given up, given in, gone away a long time ago, and yet are
still here, standing strong.
This is a song for people who have continual,
lived trust in the Lord. Who are
confident in their faith. Who trust that
God will lead them through whatever valley they face.
These are the words of folk who trust in
God the rock, both as refuge and the rock of strength.
Psalm 23 is a foundational rock to stand
upon and find refuge in, even when circumstances say differently; a testimony
to all that we can do through God who strengthens us.
May it continue to be one of the
foundations we build upon, a reminder for nights that seem so long and the
valleys that feel so dark.
May we find comfort in the classic wisdom
of this poem and merciful goodness in the ways it speaks us into our future. Amen.
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