On the Twenty-Third
April 27th, 2026
Fourth Sunday of Eastertide
Rev. Traceymay Kalvaitis
Psalm 23
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
John 10:1-10
“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.
So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.
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Today’s sermon is titled On the Twenty-Third.
Two weeks ago I noticed that the large evergreen wreath that my mother gifted back in December was starting to turn brown so I was literally on my way to take it down and I received a phone call that slowed me down just long enough to observe a small brown bird fly onto the porch and come to rest on the very top of the wreath. Looking more carefully, I could barely see the finely woven grasses that could only be a new bird’s nest. Had I, in my hurry, removed the wreath from its hook, the nest could have easily fallen.
It took a few days to decide for sure that our new neighbor is a female house finch. Soon she was almost continually in the nest so we figured she must have laid her eggs. The weather was warm last week and I was feeling very optimistic about prospects for her success but a few days ago the temps plummeted down into the 20s at night and I surprised myself with how concerned I became for her welfare and the welfare of her eggs or her hatchlings.
From the kitchen window, we can see the nest quite clearly but we can not see down into it as housefinches routinely build their nests between 12 and 15 feet from the ground. Even with the cold temperatures, I saw her leaving the nest more frequently. According to the calendar, the eggs should have already hatched, but there were no signs of life from the nest. I began to fear the worst.
On Wednesday night, as usual, I looked at the nest before I went to bed. She was there. I went to bed hopeful even though it was another cold night. On Thursday, my sermon writing day, did not see her. All through the early morning hours, I kept checking, to no avail. It was time to go to work and I decided to write from home because I was so worried. If the hatchlings had survived, she should be feeding them by now. The male should be feeding them too…where was he? I resolved to go out and look in the nest at noon if there was still no sign of life.
Nearing the nine o’clock hour, I saw her come back and stand on the side of the nest. My heart jumped; I was so elated to see her I was almost brought to tears. I watched breathlessly as she stood on the edge of the nest, first looking around and then looking down into the nest. Every other time I had seen her come back, she would hop right in the nest and settle down. Why was she just standing there looking in? My heart sank. I felt my throat tighten and I knew I was about to cry. I picked up the binoculars so I could get another good look at her; this may be the last time she would return. I’m telling you, the love that I have for that little bird was overwhelming. I could barely see through the tears that were welling up. She looked around once more, leaned over the nest again, and after some signal that I could not detect, one, two, three, four little beaks appeared, opening to her and she in turn offered food to every one. I was a sobbing mess by that point, standing there in the kitchen, relishing the relief and welcoming the absolute pure joy of the moment. (I hope you can sense some measure of it all.)
This, Friends, is not how I had planned to begin the sermon. All week I have been studying the twenty-third psalm, in particular, and I had a different beginning in mind but, in this moment, I am reflecting on how, in our best moments, we possess an immense capacity for concern about the welfare of others, the two-footed humans, the four-footed animals, the wings ones of the air, the creatures of the sea and the rooted ones, too, the plants and trees, flowers and mosses. Especially in this time of year, springtime, when all the new signs of the fullness of life emerge, the impossible green of the sprouting leaves and the tender young hatchlings, our hearts can feel broken open with so much tenderness.
I am quite sure you have experienced moments of overwhelming tenderness, most likely as a result of the deepest moments of love and appreciation, perhaps around birth, death, or even falling in love. I invite us to conjure that sense of tenderness as we revisit the familiar words of the twenty-third psalm. In my studies this week, I gathered a clear sense that the author of the psalm is writing from a place of tenderness and vulnerability. Tenderness and vulnerability seem to go together.
In the remaining time we have together, I’d like to look closely at this familiar psalm, line by line, and consider why it endures as one of the most beloved pieces of scripture. As we go through it, let’s carry the verses we heard today from the Gospel of John where Jesus offers himself as shepherd. “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.” What a powerful affirmation this is. The Lord is my shepherd. A shepherd offers protection, a shepherd cares, especially for the most vulnerable, and a shepherd ensures that needs are met. What else could I want if I feel protected and cared for with every need fulfilled? I shall not want.
“The Lord makes me to lie down in green pastures.” Green pastures offer the assurance of sustenance, sustenance that is growing and growing with plenty to spare. Lie down here, rest here a while. “The Lord leads me beside the still waters.” Still waters sustain life; still waters nourish everything they touch.
“The Lord restores my soul.” The demands of the world can leave us weary, worried and worn down. In God, in love, we are restored, renewed, revitalized.
“The Lord leadeth me in the paths of righteousness.” The original word that has been translated as “path” is ma’galim. A more accurate translation would be “groove” or even “rut.” Think about a groove or a rut on a muddy road. The direction becomes clear, it is well-worn, time-tested, safe and sure. God leads us to get in the groove, so to speak, living in right relationship with others and with the earth that sustains us. God leads us to the well-worn path because we will face adversity, we will face loss and the accompanying grief, we will face eventually our own death.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” Evil has no real power over us. There are greater forces at work in the world and we can learn to tap into them, to work with them and to let them work with us. I speak of the forces of goodness, kindness, justice. I speak of the forces of the many, united for the common good. We saw it in play in Minneapolis and St. Paul. We saw what happens when the conscience of society is sparked by foul play. We saw what happens when the protective tools of rods and staffs that a shepherd would use to protect the sheep take the shape of whistles to signal danger and bags of groceries to alleviate hunger.
“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.” Imagine here that a table is set for all of us to sit down together in blessed communion. Imagine an invitation to sit down with those whom you consider to be an enemy. What would we have to check at the door before we could sit at such a table? Our self-righteous indignation, perhaps? Our sense that we are on the “right” side? Our sense that we know. And wouldn’t it be able to leave all those illusions behind if we felt loved, if we felt seen, if we felt full? “Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”
We conclude with what is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful sentiments in all of scripture: “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.” Three words in this one statement could be more accurately translated. The original word for “surely” was aq, which means “only.” So it becomes “Only goodness and mercy shall follow me…” The original word for “follow” was radaph which means “to pursue” so it becomes “Only goodness and mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life; I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” The word for dwell was originally written as shuv which means “to turn or to return.” Pulling all of that together, the ultimate line of the psalm reads, “Only goodness and mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life; I will turn to the house of the Lord forever.”
In closing, Friends, I pray that as we continue to contemplate for ourselves what God is, what God isn’t and what God might be, I pray that we carry with us the sentiments from this beloved psalm. And when we find ourselves tender, vulnerable, unsure or afraid, I hope we may remember the ancient words…The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. When the concept of God seems unfathomable, consider how protective a shepherd feels over their flock, consider how protective you feel over your loved ones, consider how protective you feel over the wild things that live all around us, especially the young. The nature of God is revealed to us continually, within us and among us. Only goodness and mercy shall pursue us all the days of our lives; we will turn and return to the house of the Lord, forever. So be it. Amen.
Pastoral Prayer
Source of Love that we call God, we try to name you although you are nameless; we try to interpret you, even though you are unfathomable. Help us, Holy One, to be at peace with your vastness that can not be named and your message of unconditional love that includes us all, each and every one. For those who are ailing, we pray for comfort. For those facing death, we pray for peace. Through your strength and grace, Lord, given to us through the Holy Spirit, help us to extend ourselves as disciples of your love. Empower us to make choices that consider the well-being of the earth and the well-being of our brothers and sisters. This we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.
Benediction
I leave you with other ancient Hebrew words of blessing from the book of Numbers, chapter 6 verses 24-26:
The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the LORD turn his face toward you and give you peace.