Sunday, April 29, 2012

Living Psalm 23 - a sermon


Easter 4B
April 29, 2012
Psalm 23

Living Psalm 23

It’s portrayed in paintings and stained glass windows, a gentle Jesus holding a calm young lamb in one arm and a shepherd’s staff in the other.  It is always a serene pose and sure there are variations of the scene but, when the phrase “Jesus, the good shepherd” is spoken, gentle Jesus and the calm lamb is the image that is most likely brought into view.  What about the rest of the story, though?  What about the images associated with a table being prepared in the presence of our enemies?  What about the images of the scared sheep following the shepherd through the valley of the shadow of death? The way I see it, the images of the 23rd psalm more accurately tell the story of Jesus the Good Shepherd…because it’s about our life together…it’s about the hurts and the pains and the awkwardness that happens within life…but it’s also about how God, through the person of Jesus, permeates the entire realm of life so that even in the midst of the hurts and pains and awkwardness, our cups can run over. 
Now, don’t get me wrong, I like the Gospel text for this morning.  I yearn for the day when we do come together as one flock with one shepherd.  But, I’m also a city girl who knows nothing about sheep except what I’ve learned from petting farms as a child and from friends who have farmed sheep.  So, for someone like me, the Gospel text doesn’t really resonate. 
But the 23rd Psalm …that text speaks to a common experience of life.  Imagine a picture perfect day spent out on a green lawn…or spending sometime near a calm lake or stream…allow the smells of fresh air, green grass, and cool waters to enter into your senses.
Having spent most of my life in Michigan and Illinois, I was blessed to live for 17 years within walking distance of a large lake and, over the course of my life, I have become a water person. Water stills my soul, calms my nerves and helps me to relax.  Water is a powerful compound. It has the power to calm and soothe, to shock and cause pain. It can refresh and heal, and it can cause sickness and death.  Water is fun, and it is dangerous.  It is centering and calming and scary.
Seven years ago, my family rented a cabin in South Haven, Michigan for a week.  The cabin was across the road and down two flights of stairs from the beach and Lake Michigan, so of course we spent the majority of our time there by the lake.  The first four days of our trip, the water was beautiful.  It was very relaxing and healing to sit on the hot sand, book in hand, and listen to the sound of gentle waves lapping on the shore and feel the cool water on my feet.  In the evenings we watched the sun set over peaceful waters as we walked up and down the shore and then sat in the sand as the last remaining rays of light danced across the calm waters.  
As the week came to a close, a storm front started to pass through and the water got progressively rougher.  Our final day in South Haven was a dark one, but my family decided that we couldn’t waste any time we had available to us to sit on the beach, so across the street and down the stairs we went to watch the storm cross the lake.  Then my brother had a brilliant idea.  He, my sister and I would go fight the waves that were now high enough to attract body boarders and the like.  And so, like little kids, the three of us young adults raced into the water, plowing into the waves with all our might.   We tried jumping over them, through them, going under them…the waves fighting back, not wanting to give of their shape or size to the likes of us.  When we had about used up our energy, mom and dad appeared jumping over the waves with rafts and we all decided that instead of fighting the waves, why not just let them carry us.  So we did. We floated among the high waves and rough surf until eventually we made it back to shore…exhausted…but a good exhausted.  We had accomplished what we had come to the beach that morning to do.  And although the week ended on a rainy note, we still carried the memory of when the lake was almost as flat as glass, the beams of the setting sun reflecting their light off the water. 
Water is life and it is death, it is healing and it can cause disease.  Water shows us a pattern of life that is both alarming and comforting.  When it is calm, water can be a source of relaxation, of hydration, of play.  When it is rough, water can be a source of destruction…it, in itself, can be a valley of the shadow of death. 
Water is sacramental.
It is the place that we bring Kiera Joyce this morning to be joined to Christ in both death and life…with the Good Shepherd leading her to those waters of rest. 
But it doesn’t end there, it doesn’t end with water, there is also a table being prepared…one that is set in the presence of those who trouble us.  I’m not talking about an awkward dinner party with guests in attendance who are in the midst of a disagreement or just don’t see eye to eye, though I’m sure that this has happened to at least some of us at one time or another.  Rather, I am talking about a joyous feast where those who have the least in common and the most to disagree about are brought together by the Good Shepherd to share a meal and celebrate together the gift that is the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ.  And maybe, just maybe, one day the sharing of this feast will translate into our everyday lives without it being awkward or uncomfortable. 
The 23rd psalm is a text about God as our shepherd, shown in Christian eyes, through the presence of Jesus Christ.  It is also about our life together, about the times when we are taken to places where our souls are stilled, times when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, times where we sit at tables prepared for us in the presence of our enemies, those who trouble us. It is about the sacramental times in our lives where we are taken to places that we would never expect with people we would never expect and our experiences of the holy in those times and places and with those people.  It makes you wonder, what would those stained glass windows and paintings look like? 
They would probably be a little more unsettling, for one thing.  At the same time, though, they would tell a more complete story about how Christ permeates our life together and is present in those moments of joy and comfort and stillness, as well as in moments of death and hurt and awkwardness and brings us together in ways we would never expect, just like a shepherd leading a flock.



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