The Rev. Ann R. Lougee April 13, 2008 The Lord Is My Shepherd Psalm 23; John 10:2-16, abridged "The Lord is my shepherd." The words of the 23rd Psalm are among the best known words of the Bible. They are the words of all words that many people find the most comforting when they are sick or in pain or in trouble. They give a sense of security. The 23rd Psalm is also the one I'm most frequently asked by bereaved people to use at their loved ones' funerals and memorial services. On such occasions, I'm even willing to use it in the beautiful old King James version language, which may shock some of you who know me to strive most of the time for the most inclusive language possible. But many people my age and older memorized the 23rd Psalm in that version, and that's the language that feels familiar and comforting to them, so I use it. While it's often associated with funerals, the psalm sings of God's tender care throughout life, using the image of a shepherd for God. And so it describes an approach to living, a vision of abundant life, as much as it provides comfort in a time of death, in the face of loss or the unknown. The stories of the Bible are full of shepherds and sheep. These days, a lot of people who've never lived out in the country have never met a shepherd, or had anything to do with sheep. When I was a young child growing up in a New England city, the only shepherd I knew about was a German shepherd dog who belonged to a family down the street and who once knocked me down, frightening me badly and giving me a fear of dogs that lasted many years. From such limited experience, the idea of God as shepherd wasn't very reassuring. There are, in fact, some who feel that the Christian message is weakened in this day and age by inappropriately maintaining the language of a pastoral life. One university president wrote, "A God who travels only on camels may end up as a subject only for tourists, not for daily commuters. How is the modern commuter to engage his (or her) imagination with a biblical narrative so overstocked with sheep and figs?" So, in this day of computers, the internet and FAX machines, VCRs and DVRs, cell phones, Blackberries, GPS, On-Star, and silicon chips in everything, I wonder, does the biblical language still have meaning for us? When some of us were children, we would chant, "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names can never hurt me." As it turns out, of course, names can hurt us. Names, the language and images we use, can prevent us from seeing the true nature of the one who is named. So if we didn't want to call God a shepherd anymore, what image of God would we use? You might try an experiment and see what a variety of images of God come out of a discussion among your friends. Some will probably confess to still picturing a kindly grandfather figure with a white beard, seated on a throne amid the clouds. For others, God, in their mind's eye, will probably be, to quote another friend of mine, "more like an elementary school principal I had who was always prowling the grounds at recess to be sure that no one was having fun." Yet others will describe God in abstract terms like the Ground of our Being, the creative power of the universe, or the spirit of love. We seem to be in a time when former images and myths to express the relationship between ourselves and God no longer suffice. But we have not yet replaced them with something that satisfies that need. Denis Nineham, a philosopher, has written, "What we need is a story, a picture, a myth, of the way God and the world are related today." I remember a Peanuts cartoon from many years ago, in which Charlie Brown is asked what "security" means. He describes the experience of riding in the back seat of a car, while your parents are in the front seat, driving. You can sleep worry-free, he says, because they're taking care of everything. That might be another way, in our culture, to describe the feeling of utter trust and security provided by a reliable, loving, all-powerful figure. (Of course, the cartoon ends with Charlie Brown's gripping realization that the day inevitably comes when "you grow up and can never ride in the backseat again." But that's another sermon.) Some have said that a new mythology might start with the famous picture taken by astronauts that shows our earth looking like a blue marble against the dark background of space. That would lead us to realize that all of the people who ever lived, all of the history of humanity, all of human accomplishment, its music, its art, its literature, its great thoughts – all of that is located on this one small, fragile orb, and if it is destroyed all of that goes with it. It would lead us to see that there are no lines between countries on that natural sphere, none of the political boundaries that we place on our models of the globe. It would make us see that we are all truly one people created by one God. Yet the images of being led in green pastures and beside still waters and having one's soul restored and being comforted by God's rod and staff, the symbols of a shepherd, retain value for many. These are still words to return to when we want to remind or be reassured that God cares for us even when we are lost, when we need rescuing, even in the deepest and darkest moments of life. Perhaps, then, we will never quite replace the shepherd image for God. A recent survey of very young students in the Montessori school system revealed that they responded very positively to the word "shepherd." So it would seem that the metaphor has been used for so long, and is deeply enough embedded in our spirits, that even some children who have never seen a sheep or a shepherd still find the word warm and comforting and strengthening. The Psalmist obviously knew about the constant work that a shepherd does day and night: the watering and feeding, rubbing noses, calling by name, stroking backs and scratching heads, rubbing oil and ointment on sore spots, sheltering, protecting, cooling, and counting. The Psalmist obviously knew too about sheep needing to be rescued from cliffs and wild animals and just plain getting lost. Some of us aren't so sure, for that reason, that we like the idea of being, ourselves, depicted as sheep. We get the idea that they are not the most intelligent animals. Rhoda Antos, a longtime member of this church, used to raise sheep, and told once about how the sheep would wade into a stream when the weather got hot. Their thick wool would gradually absorb water and weigh them down until only their noses were above water, so then she would have to get help to haul the heavy creatures out to keep them from drowning. And as soon as they were dried off and got hot again, they'd do it all over again. A word study of the 23rd psalm in the original Hebrew gets across that sense of rescuing. Where our translation says, "surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life," the Hebrew words have a stronger meaning closer to "surely goodness and mercy shall pursue me," with the sense of goodness and mercy chasing after us until they catch us, with a love that will not let us go. In the 10th chapter of the Gospel of John, the author wants readers to understand that Jesus is the very incarnation of God's love and care. So there we find words attributed to Jesus like "I am the Good Shepherd." But in addition to showing how Jesus is an embodiment of God, the author of John's Gospel labors to get across the message that Jesus' followers are to be and do the same. Thus John's Gospel ascribes to Jesus words such as "love one another as I have loved you," "I appointed you to go and bear fruit...," "one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these." That's what the institution of the church is all about. That's what it means to be Christians: to continue Jesus' work of building the realm of God, showing God's love in the world. The word "pastor" carries the sense of being a shepherd, from its common roots with the word "pasture." Although I have been this church's pastor for nearly a decade, however, I have been humbly and gratefully aware that I have not been doing this work alone, that the congregation has shared it with me. So after I retire, in three weeks' time, and until an interim minister comes, I have every confidence that you will be shepherds to one another, that you will look after one another and meet each other's needs. I trust that you will continue to welcome others "not of this fold" too, as followers of Jesus in this time and place. May it be so. Amen.