Shepherds and Chicken Tenders; Ps 23; April 22, 2018; ICCM; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson
Do you know what the chicken said when it walked past KFC? “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no oil.” Today we get to take a look at the 23rd Psalm, and a few other passages about sheep and shepherds.
I have never been a shepherd. But, in my first congregation our best friends, Sheldon and Holly, raised sheep. One year, when these texts came around in the schedule of readings Sheldon brought a lamb in and told the children, and the rest of the congregation got to listen in, about being a shepherd. For many people the image of sheep and shepherds is foreign and therefore meaningless, it is reduced to a sentimental idea about fuzzy lambs that are cute and fluffy and nice–without any of the frustrations or demanding parts of taking care of them. Some of you may have known firsthand about the commitment and the patience and the sacrifice involved in caring for animals. Some of you may have been shepherds or tenders of cattle or pigs or chickens.
As I said, I have never been a shepherd—but I have been a chicken tender…not the kind you dip in sauce. I suppose I should say I have been a tender of chickens. When we were living in Duluth, I convinced Steve to spend part of a Saturday going on a tour of coops—it was sort of like a tour of homes. The community garden organization sponsored the tour to show how easy it was to keep chickens. So, we drove around town, visiting several backyard chicken coops. I didn’t think he’d go for it. I thought he’d raise objections about finding people to care for them during the trips we took, or about expected smells and mess. But he was duly impressed, and since he gives me just about anything I want, he started designing right away. The next week he built what he liked to call the Taj ma Hen. I thought Ranchero de Huevos was a much better name for our coop. We talked to our neighbors, Carol and Earle, who agreed to be our chicken sitters when we were out of town and before long we visited a friend, Linda, and bought three pullets and two hens from her.
By September we were getting 3 eggs a day. I loved having chickens. Taking care of chickens was easier than taking care of a dog. We fed all our scraps from the kitchen to the hens. Having daily animal chores connected us in a direct and tangible way to the cycle of life. I wasn’t a shepherd but I had become a tender of chickens.
You see—I believe in stewardship, conservation, living close to the land, living more with less. We had to give our chickens away when we moved into a parsonage and it certainly wouldn’t work for us now, but back then tending chickens was just right for us. It fit with what we believe.
My beliefs about living more with less come from my faith. It started back in college when, in a bible study, I learned about the Shakertown Plegde.
It was written in 1973, in a town near Lexington, Kentucky, which was historically connected to the Shaker Movement. The Pledge itself was a response to the inequality of distribution of global wealth and resources and called for group action by Christians to rectify the problem. It goes like this:
Recognizing that Earth and its fullness is a gift from our gracious God, and that we are called to cherish, nurture, and provide loving stewardship for Earth’s resources, and recognizing that life itself is a gift, and a call to responsibility, joy, and celebration, I make the following declarations:
- I declare myself a world citizen
- I commit myself to lead an ecologically sound life.
- I commit myself to lead a life of creative simplicity and to share my personal wealth with the world’s poor.
- I commit myself to join with others in the reshaping of institutions in order to bring about a more just global society in which all people have full access to the needed resources for their physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual growth.
- I commit myself to occupational accountability, and so doing I will seek to avoid the creation of products which cause harm to others.
- I affirm the gift of my body and commit myself to its proper nourishment and physical well-being.
- I commit myself to examine continually my relations with others and to attempt to relate honestly, morally, and lovingly to those around me.
- I commit myself to personal renewal through prayer, meditation, and study.
- I commit myself to responsible participation in a community of faith.
That pledge clearly states my core beliefs and connects Christian faith and care of the earth. For me I’m happier when I’m practicing what I believe, whether it’s contributing to the needs of those around me, having a garden and respecting the fruit of the earth that way, raising chickens, or practicing a regular pattern of prayer and study, for me faith has been about more than sin and forgiveness, more than everlasting life. It’s always been about now for me. About how we live our lives, the choices we make.
I love the 23rd psalm. Most of us here, even others who don’t go to church, know it by heart, or at least can recite parts of it in a group with its images of green pastures, still waters, and a restored soul, woven together. Although we utilize this passage most often at the time of death, in funerals and memorial services, it is really a song of trust for all life’s journey. It speaks of the promise of God’s presence and care throughout life’s ups and downs. This poignant psalm is grounded in the reality that we are earth creatures. Human life is fully interwoven with the realities of planet earth.
A restored soul and righteous living are bound together with green pastures and still waters. Our well-being is interwoven with Earth’s well-being. Today is Earth Day and invites us to stop and take time to reflect on the big picture, to look at the earth itself.
It was about the time of the origination of the Shakertown Pledge, in 1970, when the observation of Earth Day started. Earth Day too is about the impact our species was having on the planet. Ironically, the image that helped to change the paradigm – that awakened people’s consciousness to the fragility of the planet itself came through a highly technological and complex experiment – Apollo 8 in 1968.
Three men – Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and Bill Anders – were on their way to the moon, but what they really discovered was the earth. Ironically it was on Christmas Eve in 1968 that they were orbiting the moon. For the first three orbits they were so busy– a bit like sheep, they were keeping their heads down and focused on their work – that they missed the image outside the window. On the fourth orbit, one of them turned around, looked out the window, and cried, “Oh, my God! Look at that view over there. Isn’t that something?” They scrambled for a camera and took the pictures called “Earthrise.” It is that image – showing the “blue and white fertile orb of the Earth rising over the gray, desolate landscape of the lifeless Moon” – that shifted profoundly the way humans look at Mother Earth itself. It put right in front of us the awesomeness of creation, while reminding us of our culpability and responsibility in the ways we leave our mark and our marks on earth itself.
Fifty years later, we face increasing threats to the green pastures and still waters of this planet. Our consumer way of life draws so deeply on the world’s resources. We know that developed countries, the ones we come from especially, draw disproportionately on the world’s resources. We know we are deeply embedded in a consumer society and a consumer mindset, which has as its basis the perception that bigger and more is better. Since the first Earth Day in 1970 the world’s population has almost doubled. As finite people living on a finite planet there is a limit to that kind of growth.
What a contrast our patterns are to the wisdom of Psalm 23! The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Ironically, part of the problem is we spend a lot of time wanting – I want this; I want that – wanting for things we really don’t need. Studies have shown that even as we gain those things, we don’t become happier. Yet, the Psalmist is not talking about that kind of wanting. The psalmist is calling us to focus on the core, basic needs of life – food, water, shelter/protection, and the state of our souls – and give thanks for the gifts of God and the presence of God.
And, that table at the end of the psalm is set for everyone. The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. Green pastures, still waters, an abundant table set for all to enjoy. We are sheep, and shepherds too. Entrusted with the care of each other, and the whole earth. Amen.