At the tender age of 16, David was considering retirement—at least from the profession of sheep herding. Life expectancy in Israel back in the year 1005 wasn’t that long, so he was having something of a midlife crisis…
Life was wearing on David. It was full of extremes—none of which were pleasant. At times, there was extreme boredom. He was all alone with the sheep. He had no companion other than his own mind, and, on some days, his mind seemed to be his worst enemy. He struggled with whether his life would ever be worthwhile and meaningful. Still, at other times, David experienced the opposite extreme of boredom. He experienced seemingly endless stress from danger and hardship. There was the stress of finding food and water for himself and his sheep. There was the stress of dealing with the wretched, intolerable weather of the fields. There was the stress of being the midwife on-call whenever one of the sheep decided to give birth in the middle of the night. There was the stress of watching after the welfare of the sheep who seemed utterly unaware that they would have a better chance of surviving if only they didn’t go on solo expeditions to inspect the edges of cliffs and the mysteries of caves. There was also the stress of keeping guard against thieves who waited in the hills to steal from his flock at night. Then, there was the stress of protecting the sheep from lions, bears, and wolves. On top of that, there was the added stress of reporting to his father any sheep that got lost or mauled to death.
Often, David reminded himself of how his ancestor Jacob had managed to continue on as a shepherd despite everything he had suffered. Without thanks, Jacob had gone to great lengths to protect his master’s sheep. Once, when his master got angry and upbraided him, Jacob responded with indignation recalling for his master that he had served him for twenty years, and during those twenty years, he had gone beyond the call of duty. He had paid out of his own pocket for the loss of sheep. He had endured physical hardship. Heat had afflicted him during the day, and cold had afflicted him during the night. Unlike other shepherds, he had stayed awake at night to watch over the sheep. Sleep had fled from his eyes. For such dedication, Jacob was a legend among shepherds, but David didn’t want to work 20 years alone in the fields. He had had enough. He couldn’t take it anymore.
After complaining to his father about how he needed a break, David was finally allowed to come home for a few days while one of his seven brothers tended to the sheep. Back then, there were no psychotherapists or comfort food restaurants, so David went to that ancient equivalent: his mom. David’s mom was a good listener. She was sympathetic, and David found himself opening up to her like never before. He talked about what it was like to be the youngest of eight sons, how he was looked down upon by others, how they would make fun of him at the dinner table, how he was excluded from activities. When his father went to visit prophets and priests, he would take along all of his sons except David. David had to stay behind and take care of the sheep. Being the last son of eight also meant that he had no future prospects because he would inherit little. He wanted so much more from life, but fate had not brought fortune upon him. It seemed he was a lowly, humble shepherd who would live alone and without respect for the rest of his life.
Even though David liked to think of himself as a rough and rugged man of the countryside, he even confessed to his mother that he often felt afraid. He was afraid of wild animals and thieves. He was afraid of dying. He didn’t want to be attacked by an animal and die a slow, painful death with no one to hear his cry, no one to comfort him. David also confessed that sometimes his fear turned into anger. Sometimes he was angry at God for not being there to protect him, for leaving him alone. David said to his mother, “Why does it have to be like this? I thought God was supposed to shield all of us from harm if we were faithful and kept the covenant.” And, then, David was silent. He had spoken like a torrent of rain and emotion unleashed, and there he sat spent, exhausted.
David’s mother sat in the silence. She didn’t show any sign that she disapproved of David for being angry with God. She was calm, warm. Finally, after the excitement of David’s breathing had slowed down, she asked him, “David, do you still play your harp out in the fields?” David nodded his head. She said, “Tell me, what do you sing about?” David thought about it, and then he leaned back becoming more relaxed, and said, “I sing about the fields, how green they look after the summer has ended and the spring rains have finally arrived. I sing about the water we find lying in pools after searching for days fearing that none will be found. Without the green grass and the water, my sheep would die. I sing also of the shepherds of old. I sing of Jacob and his rod and staff, how he watched after his sheep with care all through the night.” As David spoke, his whole demeanor changed. For the first time since he had been home, he looked content, relaxed, as if he could fall softly asleep if he chose.
David and his mother sat in silence. Eventually, his mother asked, “Where is it that the green grass and still waters come from?” As if the answer was self-evident, David immediately said, “They come from God.” His mother then asked, “Where is it that Jacob received the strength to use his rod and staff?” Almost absent-mindedly, he answered again, “From God,” but just when he began to say the word “God,” he realized what it was that his mother was trying to get him to see. “God has been there with me all along,” exclaimed David. David’s mother then said softly, “It is true that we live in a world where there is danger and where people die, but that doesn’t mean God isn’t there and doesn’t care for us. God is there in the meadows and the waters. God is there when you go down into valleys in search of lost sheep. God is even there when your brothers are mean to you.”
They sat in the silence, and eventually David said, “Remember how when I was small you would comfort me when there was a storm at night? Even when the storm was long and seemed to last the whole night, you would stay and comfort me by placing your hand on my forehead while I lay there in the dark. The storm would keep raging, but gradually I would become calm. Maybe that’s what God does for us. God doesn’t calm the storm, but God can calm our fears. The world will be as it is, and God’s gentle hand will still be there. When I lay in the grass or sit by the waters, I feel calm. I feel calm just by singing about them.” David looked at his mother. He didn’t say it, but he knew that being around his mother also made him feel calm even after all these years. When he was around her, his worries and fears gradually seemed to recede like floodwaters after a storm.
David couldn’t but help to think that in someway God was like his mother. He was too embarrassed to ask his mother whether she was like God, so he instead asked her, “What do you think God is like?” David’s mother thought about it, and then she said, “We are told that we are made in the image of God, and I think in each of us are clues about who God is. David, have you ever thought that God might be like a shepherd?” David initially thought that that was one of the most ridiculous ideas he had ever heard, but his mother had said it like she meant it, so he tried to take the idea seriously. At first, he could only think about his own inadequacies as a shepherd, how occasionally sheep got lost, stolen, and even killed, but then he realized that life for people was much the same. Sometimes people got lost, stolen, and even killed, and maybe God was kind of like a shepherd who cared as much as one could possibly care for each of the sheep but in the end could only do so much in a world where nature sometimes takes its course and humans sometimes do evil things.
As David thought some more, he suddenly became aware of how happy he felt. He felt revived. Life had come back into him. He felt that his very breath, his soul, had been restored. In that moment, it seemed that he had everything he needed to survive. He had the love of his mother. He had the beauty of the world around him. He had strength for enduring the fields, and he had a God who would always be by his side. In that moment, it seemed he had all that he needed. He didn’t know what the future would hold, but he knew he had that moment, and he would cherish it. Thinking about this made David want to rejoice. It made him want to sing songs of faith and thanksgiving to God. That night he wrote a song that he sang for his mother the next day before he left for the field. We no longer have the melody, but to this day we have the words:
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. God makes me lie down in green pastures. God leads me beside still waters. God restores my soul. God leads me in the pathways of justice, for God’s name’s sake. Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long. Amen.