FROM THE PASTOR
The Lord is My Shepherd
On September 11, and the days following, our whole lives were a window into life and death, faith and doubt, suffering and global consolation. On that day, at noon, I hosted a prayer service for the Interchurch Center on Riverside Drive, where our offices are located. Thousands in our building had seen, like we did, the towers fall and did not know the fate of loved ones downtown. As our prayer I asked each of those present to name the names of those on their hearts downtown. To hear those names come at me through clenched teeth and strained voices, to add my own names was such a shocking experience that it drove us all to our deepest reserves of spiritual depth. Our different religious traditions did not separate us. We were united in our humanity before God and each other. And I spoke by heart the 23rd psalm, which paints a picture of community which is relevant to us today.
The shepherd’s psalm, in humble language, unites us in simple, basic, community building things…a shepherd, a flock, a river, a valley, a dwelling, a table…it pictures a community of rest and peace; which recognizes want and sufficiency; which wrestles with goodness and evil; is sustained by trust and hope. Simple, basic things are sung in the shepherd song. They describe the community of Jesus at St. Luke’s.
Our life of faith together leads us into the honesty of this psalm. It begins beside the quiet waters (evoking the waters of our baptism) and green pastures (evoking the beauty of our setting in Park Ridge) but, before the song is ended we have also faced the valley of the dark shadows; we have journeyed through that grim ravine called death. Will our congregation help form and educate servant leaders for this world of life and death and vulnerability? And will there be space in our life together for inquiry into our deepest spiritual instincts, the soulful values which infuse our Vision for mission and for action and reflection in the real world? Will there be encouragement for our disparate journeys of faith, in conversation with one another?
For we have walked through the valley of the shadow of death in the pandemic in our world, our lives, our church. And many throughout the world do so every day in disaster, war, displacement. And here the shepherd’s song changes. Before we were talking about the Lord…third person…but now, in the valley we reach out and speak to a presence close by us-“thou” “you”- so that, right where we need our Good Shepherd most, just when dark shadows start to fall, the way grows steep and narrow, and we wish we could turn back, God joins us. In so many diverse ways in this community by the still waters, we can say “but thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”
What we are talking about here is the very heart of St. Luke’s identity and ministry. We are talking about faith formation which walks with us into wider worlds, not just beside the still waters, but also the dark valley. It is wisdom about the gifted potential and the mortal limitations of being human, about the power of grace and forgiveness and the vulnerability of our lives, about setting tables in the presence of the enemies of poverty, prejudice, disease, conflict, and even courage in the face of the final enemy, death itself. And, of course, every Lord’s Day a eucharistic table is set before us in the presence of all which we fear, endure, suffer, in the face of that final enemy.
I believe that we share this deeply spiritual and human vision of community and servant leadership. I believe that we will be good stewards of our beloved church, of this green pasture beside the still waters. And I know that each of us will be sustained by the Good Shepherd of us all. And finally we look together and pray for the perfect end of all wisdom: “surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Stephen Paul Bouman
Good Shepherd Sunday, 2023
