First published in Sight Magazine, 5 June 2025
https://sightmagazine.com.au/open-book/open-book-psalm-23-so-simple-yet-so-complex/
Why is ‘The Lord is my shepherd’ the most memorised and melodised of all the 150 psalms?
There is something profound about juxtaposing simplicity with complexity.
King David evokes the simple shepherd-sheep metaphor relationship with a complex ‘key’ change from verse four when he addresses God as ‘you’ rather than ‘He’.
I spent nine months living among sheep where fox predation was a constant threat.
“From the opening verse, David describes a personal relationship: the Lord is my shepherd. In each verse, the Lord/Shepherd is always the active subject while David is the passive object of that protection: He leads me, He refreshes me, He guides me.”
Lambs are very vulnerable. They lack speed, jaws, claws, stings, wings or camouflage. Perhaps this is why John the Baptist refers to Jesus as the ‘lamb of God’ (John 1:29) who is led to the slaughter.
I could not understand the real-life ‘silence of the lambs’ during the overnight carnage. This eerie experience shed new light on the prophetic verse “He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth” (Isaiah 55:7).
In an age where we are prudent with pronouns, we may never know why the psalmist shifted from third person to second person – talking about the shepherd then talking to the shepherd.
From the opening verse, David describes a personal relationship: the Lord is my shepherd. In each verse, the Lord/Shepherd is always the active subject while David is the passive object of that protection: He leads me, He refreshes me, He guides me.
But why is David’s trust so childlike?
He answers this question: “though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil”. When we encounter what appears to be an immovable mountain or God-forsaken valley, we pray for a way “around” it, as if the Lord is waiting to embrace us at the finish line.
But David refutes this: the Lord is the lamp that causes the shadow. He is not the light at the end of the tunnel. He is already in the tunnel so we can walk through it. Hence the change of pronoun: “for you are with me”. We can feel His grace without seeing His face.
Perhaps the dreaded memories of David’s dark valleys catapulted him back to the bosom of the shepherd like a terrified child. Perhaps this key change reminds us how he cried out, “where are you Lord?” David tells us the answer: “you are with me”.
Perhaps the dark valley caused the close relationship, hence the key change.
Perhaps the relationship matured from an abstract God in the sky to a personal shepherd by his side.
The two preceding Psalms 21 and 22 both address the Lord as you/your, while Psalm 20 shifts from third person to second person in verse nine.
But it is more striking in Psalm 23 because it coincides with David emerging from the dark valley like a butterfly emerging from the dark chrysalis, or the risen Lord emerging from the dark tomb.
And why does the shepherd’s presence “comfort me”? Because He carries two tools: the pointed rod to strike predators and the curved staff to steer us back on track. Today, bishops only hold the curved staff (crosier) as shepherd of the flock, drawing us in, not driving us away.
Even when a member of the flock falls from grace, falls prey to temptation, or falls into self-loathing shame, the Good Shepherd does not throw the rod to banish that sheep like a leper. The Good Shepherd uses the curved staff to lift it out of the dark pit (Psalm 40:2) and rejoices as he carries it back to the flock on his shoulders (Luke 15:5-6).
This simple image is complex to implement in an age when ‘safe churches’ need to scrutinise who sits in the pews and what scars they bear. Are they welcome to share the Eucharist as the body of Christ, or should they be condemned for their past convictions, despite our ‘mercy’ convictions?
Verse five delves into this contemporary quandary: “You have prepared a banquet for me in the presence of my foes.”
The simple interpretation is that the Lord hosts a celebratory meal while the unwelcome enemy looks on with jealousy – like the parable of the rich man who sees Lazarus in the bosom of Abraham but cannot cross the “great chasm” (Luke 16:26).
But the parable of the prodigal son offers a more pertinent interpretation: the father beckons his disgruntled son to sit at the banquet with ‘this brother of yours’ (Luke 15:32), not as a spiteful observer. And where does Jesus deliver this parable? While dining with ‘tax collectors and sinners’ in the presence of grumbling Pharisees and scribes (Luke 15:1-2).
As Jesus demonstrated, the “table of the Lord” has no seat for enmity, only salvation.
Breaking bread with begrudging enemies may appear super-human, but not if we lead “paths of righteousness for his name’s sake”.
Joseph Wakim is an author (Australian Christian Book of the Year finalist) and independent columnist (UN Association Media Award finalist). He loves bringing a Middle Eastern cultural lens to insights on Jesus.