A eucharistic meditation on Psalm 23

The God Who Sets the Table

I don’t know if sheep have feelings.

But they must have at least two;

the fear of being attacked and the security of being enfolded.

If that’s true, I think I’m like a sheep.

I’m afraid of being attacked-

..by self-important neighbors who only care about themselves

..by co-workers or friends who need to blame me for their mistakes

..by chemicals in the air, and in the water, and in my food

..by microwaves and UV rays, and space-based missiles

..by hidden cameras and computer hackers

..by people who don’t look like me or talk like me

I don’t want the store clerk asking for my phone number “for marketing purposes.”

I want the store clerk to ask how I’m doing.

Or maybe just to smile and say, “How is it outside?”

I’m so tired of being a number.

I don’t want a personal bar code.

Don’t give me a “Frequent Customer Card” and then treat me like an object.

Don’t put tons of nuclear waste on trains and move it around from state to state to give me the illusion of safety.

I’m not that stupid.

I am afraid of being attacked.

I love being enfolded.

..I love it when you tell me it wouldn’t be Christmas without me

..I love it when we feel safe enough with each other that we feel even closer after we’ve weathered a disagreement

..I love it when you ask me to go with you to serve breakfast at the homeless shelter

..I love it when we sing, and all of a sudden we all realize that it’s bigger than all of us

..I love it when we finally understand why we seem to hurt each other so badly, and we decide there’s a way out of the old pattern

..I love it when we realize that some problems are monstrous and huge, but it’s still worth working on them together

..I love it when a child who doesn’t really know me trusts me anyway, and I feel brand new

So I think I am like a sheep.

And I’m glad that, since I am like a sheep, I have a shepherd too.

I know that shepherds can’t make the wolves disappear.

I know that my Shepherd isn’t a magician.

My Shepherd is a life restorer.

Some people restore wood by putting oil on it.

Some people restore homes by re-plumbing, re-caulking, re-painting, and re-decorating.

God, you restore lives.

..by deflating our false selves so we can look for our true selves.

..by loving us into realizing that life is precious just when we were about to fall into disabling cynicism

..by showing us something courageous when we were about to conclude that no one but movie heroes can be courageous

..by being the host at this table

I was anxious

and you brought me someone who could host a meal when he knew that death was outside the door waiting for him.

I was frightened

and you brought me someone to say to me, “Eat this, and I will always be with you.”

I was disoriented

and you brought me someone who said, “I am making a new promise, a new covenant, and you are the beneficiary.”

I was hungry

and you fed me.

I had gotten outside the gate

and you enfolded me.

God is my Shepherd. I lack nothing.

God restores my life.

God restores your life.

“Take, eat,” says the Shepherd. “It is for you. I am for you.”

© 2003 John Thornburg