Psalm 23; Ezekiel 34:1-16; Luke 15:1-7
Saturday 2 May - Rev. Jerry Eve
Either side of our passage from Ezekiel today we have ‘The Lord’s my Shepherd’ from the Psalms and Jesus’ parable of ‘The Lost Sheep’ from the New Testament. I’d like, though, to focus mainly on our Old Testament reading.
Although sheep and shepherds are mentioned literally hundreds of times in the Bible, all the way from Genesis to Revelation, I think the earliest use of shepherd as a metaphor for ruler and leader is in Numbers. We read a story the other day from Exodus of shepherds harassing (bullying) some women at a well in Midian, and the whole point of Luke introducing shepherds into the Christmas story, I think, is because they’d have had the reputation of representing the very lowest echelon of ancient Near East society.
At Numbers 27:17 they are elevated, however, in the following way by someone who himself had been a shepherd:
“Moses prayed, ‘Lord God, source of all life, appoint, I pray, a man who can lead the people . . . so that your community will not be like a sheep without a shepherd.’”
At Matthew 9:36 we then have, “As [Jesus] saw the crowds, his heart was filled with pity for them, because they were worried and helpless, like a sheep without a shepherd.”
It’s not until John 10:7-15, though, that Jesus himself is identified as that (Good) Shepherd, later on at Hebrews 13:20-21 Jesus being described as a (Great) Shepherd as well.
It would be easy to take this ‘parable’ from Ezekiel and apply it to world leaders who, in the opinion of some, do take care only of themselves and are cruel. The very mention of sheep is quite poignant here in Scotland when we think of the Highland Clearances when people were moved off the land so that it could be used for wool production instead. This period of our history was first brought to my attention when I first saw the play, The Cheviot, the Stag, and the Black Black Oil, performed by theatre company, 7:84. Based on a statistic published in The Economist in 1966 that 7% of the population here in the UK owned 84% of the country’s wealth at that time, the Office of National Statistics published an equally dramatic one last December. It tells us that the six richest people in the UK now own more than the poorest 13.2 million people!
I think the Biblical lesson I would like to take away from our readings for today, though, isn’t to criticise but to challenge our rulers to “tend and take care of the weak, heal the ones that are sick, bandage the ones that are hurt, bring back the ones that have wandered off, and look for the ones who are lost.” And with coronavirus an illness that affects everyone – from princes and prime ministers to those who are homeless – now would seem to be the perfect time for this to happen – don’t you think?
I’ve a somewhat different kind of prayer for us today. The late David Powlison was a pioneer Christian counsellor, and what follows was written by him to be read and meditated on in conjunction with Psalm 23. He called it an antipsalm. I’ll leave you to put your own Amen once you’ve maybe read the psalm again afterwards:
I’m on my own.
No one looks out for me or protects me.
I experience a continual sense of need. Nothing’s quite right.
I’m always restless. I’m easily frustrated and often disappointed.
It’s a jungle — I feel overwhelmed. It’s a desert — I’m thirsty.
My soul feels broken, twisted, and stuck. I can’t fix myself.
I stumble down some dark paths.
Still, I insist: I want to do what I want, when I want, how I want.
But life’s confusing. Why don’t things ever really work out?
I’m haunted by emptiness and futility — shadows of death.
I fear the big hurt and final loss.
Death is waiting for me at the end of every road,
but I’d rather not think about that.
I spend my life protecting myself. Bad things can happen.
I find no lasting comfort.
I’m alone … facing everything that could hurt me.
Are my friends really friends?
Other people use me for their own ends.
I can’t really trust anyone. No one has my back.
No one is really for me — except me.
And I’m so much all about ME, sometimes it’s sickening.
I belong to no one except myself.
My cup is never quite full enough. I’m left empty.
Disappointment follows me all the days of my life.
Will I just be obliterated into nothingness?
Will I be alone forever, homeless, free-falling into void?
Sartre said, “Hell is other people.”
I have to add, “Hell is also myself.”
It’s a living death,
and then I die.