The 23rd Psalm is probably the best known, most loved, most quoted portion of Scripture. It’s so familiar that people who seldom if ever read a Bible or go to church can often still quote a portion of this Psalm. One problem, though, is since this Psalm is so often requested at death-beds and funerals, we too often associate the 23rd Psalm with death and dying.

But this Psalm is really for the living. It speaks to the living - those who are fully alive in the true sense of the word. I'm sure many of you can tell your own stories about what this psalm has meant to you. Psalm 23 not only gives comfort to the dying, it also gives courage, strength, and hope to those who are alive.

One of the things we realize, though, is that the 23rd Psalm is steeped in the language and customs of shepherding and sheep in ancient Israel back in Bible times. If we don't know anything about the customs of shepherds and the unique relationship between the shepherd and the sheep, then much of what this Psalm has to say simply passes us by. What I want to do this evening is focus on just one small part of the Psalm - verse 4: Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for you are with me. And I want to focus on the Psalm from the perspective of a sheep.

Now, I have to admit that there’s a big part of me that doesn’t want to do this. I’m not really proud to be a sheep. But if God is my shepherd.... and it seems pretty clear that the Bible says God is.... I mean, in the gospel of John, Christ is called the Good Shepherd.... the book of Hebrews calls Christ the Great Shepherd of the Sheep.... and then there’s this Psalm. So, if God is my shepherd, I guess that makes me a sheep, and I’m not entirely comfortable with that.

Sheep are dirty, they smell, and they’re completely untrainable. I mean, have you ever seen a trained sheep in the circus? No. They use the smart animals, like elephants and seals. Even pigs are smarter. Wolves and coyotes who respect a boar, make a tasty snack of a sheep. Sheep are defenceless, they’re always getting in trouble, and they have a tendency to fall off of cliffs. Even the best cared sheep can be what they call "cast," which means it goes belly-up and is unable to right itself, like a turtle. This can actually happen to a fat or over-woolly sheep, if it lays down or tips over in a soft patch of grass. In the belly-up position gases build up in the belly that can obstruct the blood-circulation and quickly kill the sheep. Who knew?

They don’t even know HOW to stay out of trouble. My nephew Scott is a Presbyterian pastor out in Washington state, and he preached a sermon on Psalm 23 – it was a great sermon, by the way – Scott’s a terrific preacher, and it’s not just me saying that, his father (my brother) says so, too – anyhow, he told of a time when he was about 8 years old, and his mother’s father raised sheep in eastern Washington, and Scott and Bruce were out on the ranch, and they thought they’d see what happened when they threw rocks at the sheep. What eventually happened was that they got in a heap of trouble, but before they got caught, they discovered that the sheep didn’t even know to get out of the way of the rocks. They didn’t duck, they didn’t run, they just stood there and let the rocks bounce right off them. They’re just not bright.

So to be compared to a sheep kind of hurts my pride. Why couldn’t the Psalmist have said, "God is my falconer," so I could compare myself to an eagle? Or God is my jockey, so I could be a thoroughbred horse and win the Kentucky Derby, like Smarty Jones did yesterday, ridden by a Toronto jockey, I might add. Or at least "God is my trainer," so I could be a dog. Dogs are OK. Some are even smart, and some can actually be trained. Not mine, but some.

But here we see that it is in fact the Good Shepherd who leads the sheep into the Valley of the Shadow of Death. WHY? Well, we can only hope that the shepherd has a purpose: remember where it says the shepherd leads us to green pastures? The reason shepherds took their flocks up through the Valley of the Shadow of Death was to travel from pastures that are now eaten up and barren, where food is scarce and the land is parched, to new lush, green pastures. But to get there, the shepherd and the sheep have to pass through the valley.

Now, if you’ll recall, I said sheep were not all that bright. The sheep don't understand this. Your average sheep cannot comprehend the purposes of the shepherd. All that the sheep knows are the frightening, terrifying surroundings. But the shepherd knows the end of the journey, knows that there are greener pastures ahead, and even though the sheep don’t know what’s ahead, they’ve learned to trust the shepherd. As Jesus said in the gospel lesson that Wil read, "My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand." The shepherd has proven trustworthy and so the sheep follow, even through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and they "fear no evil."

How do we, as sheep, know that the shepherd is trustworthy? Well, for one thing, the shepherd has put us, his lambs, first in his life. That’s the mark of a good shepherd. I’ve been reading a book this week by Terry Pratchett, called "The Wee Free Men" that takes place in a fantasy world that bears a striking resemblance to Cornwall, with pictsies and elves, and enchantments and all. And sheep, and shepherds, figure heavily into it. And the main character, Tiffany, had a Grandmother -- Granny Aching -- who was a shepherd, lived out in a wagon with the sheep, taking them to pasture, watching over them constantly. And Tiffany recalled what happened when her grandmother died:

"Granny Aching had been wrapped in a woolen blanket, with a tuft of raw wool pinned to it. That was a special shepherd thing. It was there to tell any gods who might get involved that the person being buried there was a shepherd, and spent a lot of time on the hills, and what with lambing and one thing and another, couldn’t always take much time out for religion, there being no churches or temples up there, and therefore it was generally hoped that the gods would understand and look kindly on them. Granny Aching, it had to be said, had never been seen to pray to anyone or anything in her life, and it was agreed by all that, even now, she wouldn’t have any time for a god who didn’t understand that lambing came first."

Our god understands... the sheep come first.

And there’s another reason we know the shepherd is trustworthy. And that’s because the shepherd has been down this road before. Jesus Christ, the good shepherd, has travelled through this valley, the valley of the shadow of death. In this Easter season, we are reminded over and over again that Christ has gone before us, and death no longer holds any sting, let alone a shadow of death. And Christ, who is the good shepherd, will lead us through, too.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl, who lived near a cemetery. And she often had to walk through the cemetery at night, in the dark. When someone asked her, "Aren’t you ever afraid?" she said, "Oh no... My home is just on the other side!"

And God leads us through to the other side of the valley. Not over it. Not around it. There’s no bridge across it. Through it. The Psalmist was under no illusions about rough times in life. We WILL go through hardships. Those desolate places are an inevitable part of our journey. We can’t escape the valleys. I suspect every one of us has a sermon about the valleys we’ve been through, times of suffering, sorrow and sickness,... difficulties, disappointment, and even death.

But this Psalm doesn’t focus on the pain of life. Remember at the beginning I said this Psalm speaks to the living, those who are fully engaged in life, those who are on a journey to greener pastures... that just happens to take us through a deeply, deeply shadowed valley. This Psalm validates the truth that we will have hard times, but it gives us direction and encouragement for any valley. Because God’s purpose is not to protect us from pain and loss... but to protect us from letting pain and loss define our lives. We don’t live in the valley of the shadow of death, we go THROUGH it, because the green pastures, the still waters, the cup overflowing, the goodness and mercy for all our lives.... are all on the other side. Be not afraid.

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