Scripture can be found here…
I don’t know whether you’ve noticed it, but this happens every year.
Right smack in the middle of the Easter Season, the Great Fifty Days, we meet the Good Shepherd.
The Lord is my shepherd: Psalm 23, possibly the best-known psalm in scripture—certainly, among Christians.
And “I am the good Shepherd”—the gospel of John, chapter 10.
Every year, we are reminded of this image for God, and for Jesus, that is becoming less and less immediate for many of us in highly industrialized regions as the centuries go by. Fewer people than ever are familiar with farms and animal husbandry and who sheep are and what a shepherd actually does. But the image sticks, and holds the power to comfort, so much so that Christians dependably turn to this psalm when life is at its most difficult. We pray: The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
What is being evoked here, is care. God’s provision for us, in every conceivable way. The psalmist speaks of being fed, of being given water, so essential to life, of being made to rest—not allowed to, mind you, made to.
And there it is. Right at the beginning, a secret of the psalm is uncovered, as we notice that the actions of the shepherd sound very much like the traditional role assigned to mothers. To say, God is my shepherd, is to present a feminine image of God. David notwithstanding, all throughout scripture we discover that women are shepherds far more often than men. The vast majority of shepherds in the Holy Land at the time Jesus was walking around were women, and that remains true to this day.
But the shepherd’s care doesn’t stop there. He, or she, cares for more than the basic needs of food, water, and rest. The shepherd guides us, leads us in the right way—the righteous way. That word, righteous. is so poisoned by the assumed prefix “self,” as in self-righteous; but righteousness, going the way God wants us to, is an unabashedly good thing.
Abraham Maslow was a 20th century psychologist, and his lasting legacy was something he called “the hierarchy of needs,” which is just what it sounds like. He held that human beings are all inherently valuable and deserving of all the things that make life not only possible, but worthwhile. But it’s incredibly difficult to focus on things like career or personal fulfillment unless and until our more basic needs are met. The people who manage are heroic. The rest, are left behind.
Psalm 23 is a pretty good illustration of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The psalm starts with the physiological—air, water, food, shelter, sleep… Then it moves on to the need for safety—even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, the psalmist sings, I’m not afraid of anything, because you, my shepherd, are with me. Shepherds are notorious tough guys and gals, ready in an instant to fight off predators. And protection is really the main theme of Jesus’ words in John’s gospel, when he proclaims, “I am the Good Shepherd,” and tells us all that implies. Every human being has a basic need to know that they are safe, that their life matters.
That image—the valley of the shadow of death—resonates this year, perhaps more than ever. Between the pandemic, and incidents of violence that take one life or many, we have all been overshadowed by it. But, the psalm tells us, the gentle shepherd will keep us safe, and whole… perhaps in ways we can’t even understand.
Here the psalm moves into Maslow’s next two stages: the need for love and belonging, and the need for esteem. The shepherd sets a table for the beloved, and anoints their head with oil, and pours generously—lavishly—into their cup. These actions are loving, but they’re also designed to raise the stature of the beloved—the shepherd does all this, in the presence of the enemy.
These first four levels of need—physiological, safety, love/ belonging, and esteem—are what Maslow calls, deficit needs. If a need is not met, the person will feel it, and know they need to get it. It’s not that they can’t move onto higher needs until the needs of these four levels are met. But it is true that we need a kind of mental space for things like intellectual curiosity, the desire for harmony and beauty, and achieving one’s full potential. These are much, much harder if the need, say, for safety, is unmet.
But, the psalm assures us, the shepherd fulfills these needs.
And the church joins in, tries to do its part. Today, we poured the waters of baptism over Hugo, as a sign of the Shepherd’s welcome. In time—as soon as he reaches out for it—he will be welcomed to the table for the nourishment of the Lord’s Supper. This congregation will hold him in prayer, and, as we are able, to guide him along good and righteous and safe paths. At its best, the life of faith can support us as we seek to satisfy those other needs—for intellectual curiosity, harmony and beauty, loving and serving others as we have been loved and served.
The Lord is my shepherd. I pray that each of us, including our newest member, will know the tender, loving care of the One who invites us to dwell in the sanctuary that is God’s love, forever. Thanks be to God. Amen.