Psalm 118 is a psalm of triumph. We have a number of voices speaking in this psalm, but the central voice is the king, and he and the people with him are praising God for victory in battle. What king? What battle? Victory over what nation or coalition? We don’t know. In typical fashion, the author of the psalm has left all that bit out so the psalm can be used as widely as possible. We do know the truly important details, however. It was a victory against overwhelming odds, in defiance of all human expectation; as far as the folks on the other side were concerned, the only thing left to do was run up the score. There’s an indication that the enemies the king faced were domestic as well as foreign, and we’ll talk about that in a few minutes. The main point is that this is not a victory won by the king, this is God’s victory, and so the king is leading a triumphal procession through the streets of Jerusalem to the temple, bringing a rich thanks offering to lay on God’s altar.
Monthly Archives: March 2026
Follow the Shepherd
NB: this is the third sermon in this series, not the first. For a variety of reasons, not every sermon in this series will be posted.
It has been said of the Gospel of John that it is a pool in which an elephant can swim and a child can wade; the same can be said of Psalm 23. At first glance, it’s a simple poem, easy to understand and easy for us to claim for ourselves; the water is clear enough to see the bottom with no blurring or distortion. The deeper we look, however, the deeper it gets; if we dive in, not only will we not hit the bottom and hurt ourselves, the bottom will grow further away the deeper we dive. This simple poem is also an exceptionally complex poem which is working on multiple levels at once, casting meaning in multiple directions at the same time. What I have to say about it this morning will be true, to the best of my ability to discern; it will not be exhaustive.
I need to begin by acknowledging my great debt to one of my heroes of the faith, one of my two or three greatest intellectual influences, the late Rev. Dr. Kenneth E. Bailey. Dr. Bailey was a Presbyterian missionary, teacher, and scholar who could say of himself, “For sixty years, from 1935-1995, my home was in the Middle East.” He lived for decades among what he once called “the last generation of Jesus’ day,” and drew on that experience and two millennia of Middle Eastern biblical translations and scholarship in teaching and interpreting the Scriptures, particularly the New Testament, and especially the parables of Jesus. He was an amazing man, humble and full of grace, with an equally amazing life story. My understanding of God’s word is much deeper and richer because of his work and example, and I am profoundly thankful. Hang around me, and you will hear his name—often.
Dr. Bailey’s last book, of which I also have yet to reach the bottom, was this one, The Good Shepherd; not long before his death, he told a friend of mine, “It only took me forty years to write,” as he saw it as the culmination and completion of his life’s work. I’ll quote this book a few times this morning, but my debt to him runs through every paragraph of this sermon, as does my gratitude.