Psalm 23

¹ The LORD is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
² He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
³ he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake.
⁴ Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me; your rod and your staff—
they comfort me.
⁵ You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
⁶ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD
my whole life long.

Literary language is sticky in a way that ordinary language is not. It can stick to different people in different ways and connect these people with a text as a common experience. Psalm 23 is arguably one of the stickiest texts in the Bible. Many people know this psalm though they may know little else of the Bible. I want to explore something of why this is so.

Hebrew and English differ in two fundamental ways. First, English favors nouns while Hebrew prefers verbs, and we see this in the opening phrase. The English word “my shepherd” translates the Hebrew participle with its object: “the one shepherding/grazing me.” The Hebrew focuses less on the role and more on the verb’s action for “me.” The shepherd is mine because he is taking care of “me.” The English translation tends to hide this.

The second difference lies in the way that the two languages connect ideas. Like Latin and Greek, English wants to indicate the relationship between ideas by subordinating clauses. Hebrew tends to make statements, one after another. While some translations make the connections explicit, the NRSV translation used here respects the original and invites the reader to work out the relationship:

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.

The Hebrew text does not explicitly link these two sentences, but it invites us to connect the two and affirm the whole statement.

The shepherd is one of the great images of the ancient world and the Bible. In his famous Codex, King Hammurabi of Babylon, who lived about eight hundred years before David, calls himself “the beneficent shepherd, whose scepter is righteous…so that the strong might not oppress the weak.” King Hammurabi uses the image of the shepherd to capture this vision.

Though Psalm 23 does not refer to kingship, the link between the two is ancient, and it is no accident that David is among the sheep when Samuel has run through all of the sons of Jesse without finding the one to anoint (1 Sam 16:11).

The image of the king conjures up strength and power, while the shepherd puts the emphasis on care. Second Isaiah captures these two dimensions in 40:10-11. We hear that the LORD “comes with might” and “his arm rules for him.” Then the text adds:

He will feed his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead the mother sheep.

Isaiah juxtaposes the arm that “rules” with the arms that “gather the lambs.” The LORD, as Isaiah reveals, holds together both strength and care. Though strength is often associated with men, and care with women, God holds both of these together.

This care dominates the psalm’s next four sentences with the LORD as subject and “me” as object:

² He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
³ he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
for his name’s sake.

Again, the Hebrew invites us to find the connections between these sentences. The first two verbs deal with giving rest and movement to embrace the coming and going of life. The two lines add “green pasture” and “still waters” to suggest abundance and peace and, even more essential, food and drink, the basic needs for being alive.

The third line literally states: “he causes my ‘soul/being/self’ to return.” The Hebrew word for “soul,” nephesh, originally meant “throat,” but it becomes a part for the whole because without your throat you are not a living being. Hebrew word nephesh means “the self,” “one’s whole being.” The Greek translation captures this idea with psyche, its word for “soul.” The word “soul” suggests a larger, existential horizon. Life and self can seep away and even hemorrhage. We need more than physical food and drink, and here the psalmist testifies that God will bring back and re-establish life and self and soul.

The verb “leads” repeats and underlines God’s initiative that guides this psalmist “along right paths.” The word “right” connects us to the language of righteousness and justice. It suggests more than correctness. My walking this path conforms me to the justice of God, yet the LORD leads “me” along this path, not for my sake, but “for his name’s sake,” that is, for God’s integrity.

The first person voice dominates this psalm and makes the psalm a personal testimony that allows no contradiction. It asserts what God has done for “me.” Unlike some psalms that reveal an ambivalent speaker, the voice here is clear and unequivocal. The psalmist now makes a personal affirmation of trust:

⁴ Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff—
they comfort me.

Statements of trust often appear in the psalms of petition as reasons why God should act and answer the psalmist’s prayer. Here the psalmist is asking for nothing but only stating what is true. The statement is particularly bold because of the future condition that the psalmist envisions. This translation reads “darkest valley,” which may be technically correct. However, it misses the ominous foreboding of the King James, which literally translates the Hebrew as “the valley of the shadow of death.” Death becomes some towering entity able to cast its shadow as if about to strike and annihilate “me.” In the face of this threat, the psalmist asserts, “I shall not fear, for you are with me.” Trust in the presence of God creates the possibility of life without fear. This short line captures a breadth of affirmation.

Here also, there is a small but crucial shift. Up to this point, the psalmist has spoken about the LORD as a shepherd without naming the audience. The psalmist could be addressing the community or whoever will listen. The psalmist could be speaking just to hear the words their sound. Now the psalmist clearly addresses God as “you.” This crucial shift adds a new level of intimacy, revealing the psalmist’s ability to speak directly and personally to God.

Quickly the psalmist adds: “your rod and your staff comfort me.” The shepherd’s rod and staff can guide or goad a flock; they can also serve as weapons against the thieving wolves. The repetition of “your” underlines the intimacy, while “comfort” reinforces the basic theme of the shepherd’s nurture.

To protect the holiness of YHWH, people in the late post-exilic period began to avoid this name and use Adonai, “my Lord,” in its place. This title translates into Greek as kyrios (‘lord’), the same word used in the New Testament to identify the Messiah. The Latin “Dominus,” the English “Lord,” and the Spanish “Señor” continue that identification of YHWH with Jesus, who also calls himself “the good shepherd” (John 10:11); As a result, Christians have always understood this psalm Christologically. The psalm also invites the hearer to identify with the speaker and claim the LORD as the comforting shepherd who leads and restores.

Many people overlook the second metaphor of the psalm: God as host.

⁵ You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.

The God of green pastures and still waters becomes a host who provides a feast “in front of my enemies.”

Commentators see the reference to enemies as a sign of the protection required of the nomadic host to a guest. Even so, Fr. Luis Alonso Schökel, SJ, once said in class that God provides this feast “in front of our enemies” so that we can invite them to join us and share the meal. While this reading may seem to be heavily influenced by the Sermon on the Mount, Elisha does something similar in 2 Kgs 6:8-23, where he leads the blinded enemy into Samaria for a feast. In any case, Fr. Alonso would surely have argued that it was a fair and real understanding of the text as it stands from his point of view.

Here the host not only sets the table “before me” but also anoints “my head with oil.” Oil served many functions in ancient Israel: food, heat, light, healing, moisturizer, and election. Here it represents hospitality that is more than friendliness. The anointing manifests care for the person, and the host does this anointing.

The image of the overflowing cup reveals a bountiful feast—with nothing held back and more coming all the time.

The feast gives way to the proclamation that “goodness and mercy will pursue me / all the days of my life.” Goodness embraces everything good—all creation. Translators use the English word “mercy” to translate several Hebrew words: one connected to gracious favor, another to womb-emotion, and a third to the loyal love of covenant. The Hebrew word points us toward the covenant, but the English can connect all three.

The reality of “goodness” and “mercy” creates the possibility of living “in the house of the LORD my whole life long.”

The stickiness of the psalm is the result of many pieces, and this reading does not exhaust them.