Tell Us Plainly
“Tell us plainly”
Psalm 23 John 10:22-30
Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year C, May 8, 2022
Pastor Andy Kennaly, First Presbyterian Church, Sandpoint, Idaho
Rain and cool weather have slowed the usual progression of spring, but I’m starting to notice a few buds on branches, flowers, and fruit trees starting to bloom. Grass certainly grows fast this time of year. Life is prolific and grows while the growing is good. Who knows? Maybe a month from now it will be 106 degrees, like last year. Hopefully not, because last year there was only one cutting of hay rather than two, or three. We’re not used to that kind of heat here. We prefer green pastures.
It may be hard for us to relate to a Psalm about shepherding in the Middle East. We’re several cultures and languages removed from the Psalmist in the Negev. We need to learn that things like “still water” refer to water that’s safe to drink, as opposed to a desert wadi. A wadi is a dry gully that has flash floods when it rains in the distant mountains. Water violently channels down the hills into the valleys. If a sheep is lost in a wadi, a flash flood could wash it away. The shepherd knows where to lead the sheep for “quiet waters” or “still water.”
The Psalmist assumes we know what’s behind the imagery of green pastures, and of the rod and staff bringing comfort rather than destructive blows; a table of abundance which even includes enemies, anointing with oil, and overflowing cups. One line after another is filled with symbolic metaphors based on the near eastern, Semitic, agrarian culture of shepherding, which most of us don’t understand and haven’t experienced.
Yet this is also one of the most familiar of all scriptures in the United States. The Twenty Third Psalm is especially popular for funerals. In times of personal challenge and grief at the loss of a loved one, Psalm 23 brings words of comfort; they remind us that God is active and eternal. Notice it doesn’t get us out of tough times, but it reminds us of presence within tough times. The Psalmist is walking through the darkest valley, but they do not fear evil because of God’s Presence.
“The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want…” The LORD. In English translations we have that word, LORD, in all capital letters. The breath word, Yah-weh, the unspeakable holy of holies, God Almighty who self describes as the great I AM, or I will be who I will be, the blessing of Presence. Maybe for us this capitalized LORD would be better translated as God’s “Is-ness.” God’s Is-ness is my shepherd. This gets to the active quality, the relational reality, the living grace and love that pervades all of life at the deepest levels of existence.
This active Is-ness is described by key words. It’s the LORD who makes, leads, restores, is with, comforts, prepares, and anoints. Every aspect of this Psalm involves the dynamic of movement.
In Sandpoint we have a rather active airport. My house is on the southwest side of the airport so lots of airplanes make their landing approach over our place. We also have small jets fly in and out of Sandpoint; business class jets, charters, private jets. You can hear them when they fire up their engines and gain altitude rather quickly.
For an airplane to work there has to be movement. Engines push a plane forward, but it’s the shape of the wing that creates lift. For that wing to work, airflow over the wing has to be there. Without airflow and movement, an airplane would fall to the ground. The only static airplanes are the ones parked alongside the runway or in the hangars.
Movement is also part of the scripture from John as Jesus walks in the temple, “in the portico of Solomon” during the festival of Dedication in Jerusalem. Jesus is surrounded as “the Jews gathered around him” and questioned him. It seems rather abrupt and has a tense element to it. They say, “If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.”
That reminds me of an observation about the opposite of faith. The opposite of faith is not doubt. The opposite of faith is certitude. So many people, so many Christians, want God to keep things clear, to interpret the Bible at doctrinal levels and moralistic dogmas that spell out with certainty what it is that we believe. Yet even Jesus says, “I have told you, and you do not believe.” Then comes the relational example of the shepherd and the sheep, one of hearing and following, based on trust and the experience of unity. Jesus says, “The Father and I are one.” This is like the Psalmist who takes comfort because God is with them.
The movement and dynamics of trust, relationship, and experiential faith are core aspects of these readings. The only exception to this dynamic comes when devout religious people surround Jesus and demand certitude. They want words, yet Jesus says, “look at my works done in my Father’s name, but you do not believe.” The mental image of Jesus surrounded, hemmed in; not only is the journey paused, but the movement of the shepherd is interrupted. Worse yet, the leading of the shepherd is disregarded, and it is the religious faithful that have thwarted the flow involved in following.
It gets wearying to live in a world that assumes might makes right. God holds out a vision of peace and unity and Christians, both in the Eastern Church and Western Church, like the Jews around Jesus, put the brakes on it. We prefer comforts of our own assumptions over dynamics of living faith.
Like a fish swimming in water, we find it difficult to notice the tyranny or evil of our own culture. To acknowledge these evils seems overwhelming, so it’s just easier to go along with things, to be domesticated and say, “God bless America.” Violence, for example. The headlines as politicians keep all options on the table, record-setting federal budget spending on aggression, and violence on TV and in movies; all these rage on unchecked, let alone called evil, surrounding us with daily “bombardments” (notice even our language is violent). Yet these things move us further from God’s intention of abundant life, a life of peace, justice, love, and connection through relationship and unity, all key biblical themes.
Did you hear about the nuclear myth? Richard Rohr shares in a devotional last Thursday entitled, “War Is a Spiritual Problem.” He says, “The nuclear myth, with its false promises of deterrence and security, gets us off almost all the hooks that the Divine Fisherman uses to draw us to deeper levels of spirituality and consciousness. […] Once we squelch spiritual energy in the name of hard-headed intellect and will, three not-so-obvious demons will move in to take the place of Spirit: expedience, law, and propriety. […] and we have grown used to it for so long that we think it is the teaching of Jesus! For many people, …religion is all about: law and order, control, doing what we’re told, and obeying the commandments. […] the church got itself into the business of prioritizing good behavior instead of doing what Jesus did: proclaiming and living the new reality of the Reign of God.” Rohr goes on with other reflections but then gets to the clincher as he asks, “What does this have to do with nuclear bombs and nuclear deterrence? I am convinced, with Pope Francis, that even owning nuclear weapons is a spiritual problem. The way forward will depend on spiritual transformation at a corporate level. Yet now Ukraine and the whole world are held hostage because Russia and the United States own nuclear weapons.”
In the qualitative life God gives there is abundant, perpetual sustenance based on love, grace, reciprocity, and a peace beyond understanding. As we experience fragmentation of culture, we hold on to the promise that God is leading us through this valley of the shadow of death. Our understanding and experience of life is sustained by the Shepherd, the Living Christ, who calls us to follow and trust in the Presence within, among, and around us God be with us in our own versions of the Psalmist’s Negev and Jesus’ stroll on the portico. And may God be glorified, now, even as forever. Amen.
Reference:
https://cac.org/war-is-a-spiritual-problem-2022-05-05/, adapted from Richard Rohr, “Why Deterrence Is Death,” in Grace in Action, ed. Terry Carney and Christina Spahn (New York: Crossroad, 1994), 21–24.