Dr. John Tamilio III, Pastor
© 2020, Dr. Tamilio
Why the 23rd Psalm? Why is that the Psalm that is the favorite to so many people? Why was that the one you had to memorize in Sunday School? I did, when I was a kid.
I remember going home one day and telling my mother that I had to memorize the 23rd Psalm. “Oh, that’s my favorite!” she said. The ten year old me immediately began to think, “How can I get Mom to do my church homework for me?”
Here I am — two score and two years later — and this Psalm keeps coming up. It isn’t just in the Lectionary a couple of times a year. Almost every time I plan a funeral, the family I’m working with asks, “Can the 23rd Psalm be one of the readings?” Maybe that gives us some insight into the question I posed a minute ago: “Why is this Psalm such a favorite of so many people?”
When people are scared, or in pain, or are grieving, they often want to hear a word of hope. Better yet, they want someone to take that pain away. The 23rd Psalm does take the pain away, but it does offer hope. Rich with beautiful, pastoral imagery, it enables us to hear God’s word of hope, a word that can assuage our pain — at least for the moment.
Last Monday, I officiated at a funeral. It was held at the Irish Cultural Center here in Canton, because it was the only place that would be conducive to such a service during this pandemic. It was held outside under a big tent with ample seating for people to social distance. The funeral was for a young man who committed suicide. He was 19 years old.
I sat with his mother, father, brothers, and aunt in our Social Room the other day to plan the service. No matter how many years you have under your belt as a pastor, you feel totally inept in those moments. What can you possibly say? I am reminded of a line I heard from the HBO series Six Feet Under. One of the characters says, “If you lose your spouse, you are a widow or a widower. If you lose your parents, you are an orphan.” Then, she asks rhetorically, “What is the name for the parents who lose a child? “There is no name,” she says, “because it’s too awful to have a name.”
This family had pretty much planned the service: they knew what they wanted for music and readings. The 23rd Psalm wasn’t one of them, but those familiar words kept echoing through my mind as I looked at the deceased man’s mother. Her tears kept flowing. She may have been sitting in that room with us, but she was really in Hell. I wanted to hold her, look her into her eyes, and repeat the words David wrote over 3000 years ago. I wanted her to know that even though she was in the valley of the shadow of death, that she would be led to green pastures and still waters.
Not that she would believe me — not because of a lack of faith on her part, mind you. Trauma experts know that it is difficult for people to see beyond their immediate grief. It is as if a wall is built around us when we are in those moments of anguish. People can tell us that there is something beyond that wall — that there is hope — but it is hard to even conceive that idea when you are in the thick of it.
And it isn’t just funerals.
There are numerous stories of soldiers, who, in the heat of battle, when the enemy was closing in on them and all seemed lost, that they turned to the 23rd Psalm in prayer. They found that it provided solace in the midst of chaos. Maybe that is why we should memorize certain passages from Scripture. You do not always have a Bible on hand.
And it isn’t just those in foxholes. Many a person, standing at the bedside of a loved one, a person whose death is imminent, has found comfort in those all too familiar words: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” They put their trust in a promise: though God may not save their loved one, he will carry her loved ones through their pain. Jen Thorn writes the following, “God’s word can give us peace while we are in the midst of a wild storm. It can bring comfort while we are afraid, tired, and worn out. We can have hope that he will see us through to the other side.”[1]
And it doesn’t have to be the pieces that generations of believers have memorized: passages like the 23rd Psalm. All of Scripture possesses words of comfort. Psalm 119:105 reads, “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” The Bible enables us to see in the darkness. Among its many meanings, calling Scripture the Word of God means that it is the primary way that we hear God speaking directly to us.
One of the reasons we read the Bible is to prepare ourselves. There are other reasons, obviously, but one reason is preparatory. Think of a soldier in boot camp. He or she is not facing hostile enemies, but they are training for a time that they may. The same is true for us. By immersing ourselves in God’s Word, we are preparing ourselves for the enemies we will most certainly face. Not enemy combatants on the battlefield, mind you, but the enemy that is called fear, anger, doubt, pain, cruelty, you name it.
At the start of this sermon I asked, why the 23rd Psalm? Why is this such a favorite to so many believers? In his commentary on Psalms, Craig C. Broyles writes, “Psalm 23 is a favorite for many, largely because it unveils an intensely intimate relationship with the Lord wherein he provides protection and providence.”[2] So, it’s not just for comfort when we mourn and to prepare ourselves for such times. This Psalm reveals an “intensely intimate relationship” we share with God and the “protection” he provides. We see this as such a peaceful, pastoral piece, but think for a moment: why does the shepherd have a rod and a staff? To beat off the wolves who try to snatch his sheep! It’s no wonder that Jesus would expound upon this Psalm in the Gospel of John, saying, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (10:11). In the same passage, Jesus states that his sheep know him and will respond to his voice.
That’s an intimate relationship.
Holy fast to God and his Living Word. Bathe yourselves in its promises. Clothe yourself in its assurance. Walk in its light. Lean on it when you feel as if you’re about to stumble or fall. Hold it up when you cannot hold yourself up.
Learn it. Teach it. Live it. Love it.
Amen.
[1] Jen Thorn, “God’s Word, Our Comfort” from the website Love God Greatly.
[2] Craig C. Broyles, Psalms from the New International Biblical Commentary series (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 1999), 123.