Psalm 23―With Me

TEXT (for Hebrew see end)

1. A psalm. Of David.

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.
2. In green pastures He makes me lie down; by quiet waters He leads me.
3. He renews my life; He guides me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
4. Even though I walk through the darkest valley,1 I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
5. You set a table for me in full view of my enemies; You rub my head with oil; my cup runs over.
6. Only goodness and steadfast love shall pursue me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD for the length of days.

Note
1. Or, “the valley of the shadow of death”

COMMENTARY

Introductory Thoughts

“The twenty third psalm is the nightingale of the Psalms. It is small, of a homely feather, singing shyly out of obscurity; but oh! it has filled the air of the whole world with melodious joy, greater than the heart can conceive.”(Henry Ward Beecher, Life Thoughts)

Indeed, some psalms read so beautifully and effectively as poetry that one is reluctant to reduce them to prose analysis. Such is Psalm 23. That said, aware that my purpose is only to return to the original with a little greater sensitivity to words, structures, etc., I proceed.


Psalm 23 is often recited in semi-liturgical Jewish contexts (e.g., third meal on the Shabbat, funerals, memorial prayers), but rarely in the more formal cycles of liturgy, possibly owing to its radically individual nature: the speaker is talking about and then to his God and about himself. (Most Jewish prayer is in the plural.) Its form may also be exceptional. Several commentators have noted a “complete breakdown” in parallelism (Gillingham,” 190, citing Kugel).

Psalm 23 is often misunderstood as a tremendously encouraging (if static) declaration of personal confidence in God’s providence. Indeed, we confront a speaker of great faith. In the articulation, however, the poet leaves us with much more complex material to contemplate. Outstanding among the challenges is the change between two metaphors— God as shepherd and God as a protective host. The psalm begs to be read slowly, to trace the change. In fact, tracing that transition reveals a pattern. It is precisely through the poem’s dynamism that the psalmist confronts us.

I proceed accordingly, offering first my understanding of the progression and then an alternate view. Thereafter, I focus on the threats implied by the metaphors in the middle and finally return to the striking first and last verses.

The Progression

Verses 1–2: The image is clearly of God as a shepherd, a metaphor found in the Bible with some frequency (and there are indications that the image was internationally applied to deities). The needs filled are basic but comprehensive, and at this point the scene is idyllic. The picture is minimalist: all is well, as God provides food, water, and serenity. (Outside threats will be articulated only later.)

Verses 3–4: First read, the verses are a little puzzling, for the metaphor of sheep, which so befits verse 4, seems less appropriate for verse 3, which might imply human presence. There are two ways to read the two verses.

As shepherd to a sheep: God watches over the life (safety) of the speaker (lamb), taking him through right (successful) paths, even guiding him through the most dangerous of passages successfully. The sheep trusts fully in the shepherd, whose symbols are the rod and staff he carries.

In this interpretation, certain phrases are jarring. “Right paths” would be a very unusual, if still possible, understanding of the Hebrew term, which usually implies “paths of righteousness” (which then would seem to be abandoning the metaphor in favor of a human term). So, too, “for His name’s sake” is used elsewhere in the Bible for God’s actions regarding humans. In light of these apparent anomalies, one is also struck by the change in verse 4 in reference to God from third to second person. The speaker now addresses God, rather than talking about Him. This is more appropriate for humans.

As God to a human: One then rereads verses 3 and 4, discovering a parallel understanding, the reference not (just?) to sheep, but also to humans. The “darkest valley” (or the “shadow of death”) now implies fear as much as danger. “Right paths” takes on the direct implication of right behavior, as well as a common second meaning of the term, paths of victory, emphasizing the life-saving element of the verse. “Rod-and-staff” changes from the shepherd’s accoutrements to the instruments of God’s justice and support. As human to God, the term “with me” grows particularly more powerful. Used rarely in connection with the deity (three times by Jacob, in contexts of God being with him on his journey; once by God inviting Moses to stand with Him; and once by Job recalling God’s former support), the term, an implied act of grace, is now placed in the center of the psalm. One wonders whether the psalm comes to define this rare and challenging phrase: what does it mean to “be with” God? [Yaakov Bazak points out that the three Hebrew words “for You are with me” are precisely the middle of the psalm by word count, without the title (Numeric Structures in the Psalms, Jerusalem, 1999, p. 18).]

Just as the metaphoric (sheep) reading of verses 3–4 raised the level of support from subsistence to security and just as it added the element of movement to the static first two verses, so the “human reading” moves the poem even further along, now to include assurance and confidence in the face of danger and fear.

(A word on the double reading: We find in the Bible examples of “Janus parallelism,” wherein a term is understood in one way with what comes before and in another way with what comes after. Here we have fully two sentences that can be so conceived.)

Verse 5 continues the ascent, the idea of being “with” God now made public as God plays solicitous host (providing a sumptuous meal and rubbing the head of the speaker with oil)! The description has here taken on incredibly wide proportions, God honoring man!

Verse 6, in turn, expands even further with the element of time: dwelling (alternatively, “being at peace”) in God’s presence all of the years (“days”) of one’s life. By returning to reference to God in the third person, the verse encloses the psalm (as does its inclusio, “LORD”) and invites immediate comparison to its beginning. Indeed, the change is massive. The original “lacking nothing,” which implied having basic food and rest, has moved all the way to life-long intimacy and protection with and by God! Thus the psalm has evolved, smoothly but quickly, between extremes―not from poverty to plenty, but from minimal to maximal degrees of association and support.

It is this progression that the poet offers the reader. Much is left to consider. Was the progression simply an insight into the growth of faith or perhaps a pedagogic suggestion as to how to teach or achieve faith (a road map of sorts) and/or perhaps a hymn of praise to our ability to build from one insight to another? Conversely, could it be that the poet is offering a critique of getting caught up in ever widening circles, never realizing that we have lost touch with reality? Do we ask for too much, never satisfied?

I also cite the (complementary or alternative?) reading of Hamotal Bar Yosef. For her, the poet is being either autobiographic or national-historic. If the former, this is the progression of faith from childhood to adulthood through difficulties, moving from simple belief through threat and danger, on to adult closeness, and finally to fully mature longing for total presence. If national, the history traces the People from its pastoral beginnings all the way to its settled status with its Temple.

I proceed to some observations concerning the details of the poetry.

Metaphors of Threat (Middle Verses)

The valley of “death” or of “darkness” (second now preferred) appears only here in the Bible, an effective metaphor for danger, to both sheep and humans. The physical movement across the psalm is marked: from stream and lea, through a valley, to a tent (presumably, where the food is offered), to the metaphor of a mountain (the LORD’s house). The physical progress mirrors the expansion of the relationship.

“Rod” is a double entendre. This is the shepherd’s tool for guiding and counting his sheep. When applied to God, however, the rod is a symbol of sovereignty and punishment, and usually bears an ominous tone. Thus Kimche interprets: “The more you strike me with Your rod of chastisement, then return to support me—these are my comforts, for thus I know that You do not abandon me to chance.” (Thus verse 4 takes on the implication not only of security but also of teaching through life experiences and chastisement.) The combination of rod and staff in that framework echoes the progression of the psalm as a whole: in the latter case from minimal to maximal support; in the two words, from appreciation of trials to appreciation of support.

The poet Ludwig Strauss notes that the “frame” of the poem speaks of the LORD in the third person and further notes that the switch in the middle to the intimate second-person address to God occurs in the valley of darkness. He sees the experience of the valley and the rod as the core message of the psalm: a view of “the long wanderings through twisted paths, whose final goal has been always known: happiness and peace.”

The Opening and Closing Verses

The opening verse is particularly striking.

1. The English, which reads smoothly, cannot adequately reflect the Hebrew, which is a staccato list of four brief words (eight syllables), roughly, “LORD/ my shepherd/ I don’t/ want.” Its exceptional form draws immediate attention. (Nechama Leibowitz calls this “monumental brevity.”)

2. The metaphor is also unusual. The “shepherd” metaphor appears in the Bible (with one exception, Gen. 48:15, “shepherd” there a verb) as applied to the group (= the flock), not to an individual.

3. In the four words, the first two speak of God and the last two of man. These are the two subjects of the psalm, which is all about their relationship.

4. Embracing positive and negative, the verse’s tone is encompassing.

5. "I shall not want" is, in its way, a double negative, referring to what is missing. A psychologist friend suggests that this might indicate that materially the speaker is very much in want, further emphasizing that the nearness to God overcomes any such problem, leading to the speaker's "honest" opening statement.

6. Not unlike many psalms (an aspect of Psalms I have not emphasized sufficiently to date in these essays), this first verse announces the subject of the psalm, and even as it becomes more complex through the entire reading, it remains afterwards a startling sentence that both summarizes and recalls all that has been said.

The final verse is also intriguing.

1. It opens, “Only goodness and steadfast love shall pursue me.” “Pursue” is a powerful personification (better than the oft-used “follow”). The translation “steadfast love” implies that this is a gift from God. The same term, if a man is acting, means “kindness.” There is a double entendre here: the two qualities, steadfast love and kindness, both “pursue” him, one as a gift from God and the other as a personal characteristic, that guide him and force his actions, thus qualifying him for the reward articulated in the second half of the verse (“I shall dwell…”). Both readings apply. Elsewhere in the Bible, when “goodness” and "steadfast love” are used with “pursue,” they are the objects of the pursuit, not the pursuer.

2. The finality of the verse is obvious, as is the huge contrast with the psalm’s opening (House of the LORD as opposed to the lea and stream of verse 2. Note also the full banquet of verse 5 as opposed to the water and grass of verse 2). This is also emphasized by the closing double use of “days” in the parallel phrases “all the days” and “length of days.”

3. One can hardly imagine a more positive verse as a conclusion, perhaps one of the secrets of Psalm 23's great appeal.

So reads Psalm 23. For moments of prayer, this psalm can be a supreme inspiration and comfort. As a study in religious personality, it is an engrossing piece of poetry, to be contemplated and constantly revisited. In seeking to put those two reactions together, the reader is given a chance to explore his or her own ultimate hopes and requests.

* * * * * * * * *

Additional Notes

The Hebrew displays an appreciation of sound echoes, not reproduced in the English: for example, “shepherd” (ro’eh) and “evil” (ra’); “still waters” (2 – mei menuchot), "He guides me" (3 - yancheni) and “they comfort me” (4 – yenachamuni); “green pastures” (2 – ne’ot deshe) and “rub” (5 – dishanta); and “renews” (3 – yishovev) and “dwell” (6 – vishavti).

"I shall dwell' (verse 6) is a most unusual form, and assumes that a letter has been left out as a shorthand of sorts, an assumption accepted by most interpreters (perhaps in light of Psalm 27:4). As printed, it could mean "I shall return." One reader of this essay suggests that the use of that term at the end is an invitation to "return" to the first verse (on which, see above).


The author of these essays is Rabbi Benjamin Segal, former president of the Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies in Jerusalem and author of The Song of Songs: A Woman in Love (Jerusalem: Gefen, 2009). This material is copyright by the author, and may not be reproduced. If you are interested in using the texts for study groups, please be in direct contact with the author, at psalmblog@gmail.com.

HEBREW TEXT

א מִזְמוֹר לְדָוִד יְהוָה רֹעִי לֹא אֶחְסָר

ב בִּנְאוֹת דֶּשֶׁא יַרְבִּיצֵנִי עַל-מֵי מְנֻחוֹת יְנַהֲלֵנִי

ג נַפְשִׁי יְשׁוֹבֵב יַנְחֵנִי בְמַעְגְּלֵי-צֶדֶק לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ

ד גַּם כִּי-אֵלֵךְ בְּגֵיא צַלְמָוֶת לֹא-אִירָא רָע כִּי-אַתָּה עִמָּדִי

שִׁבְטְךָ וּמִשְׁעַנְתֶּךָ הֵמָּה יְנַחֲמֻנִי

ה תַּעֲרֹךְ לְפָנַי שֻׁלְחָן נֶגֶד צֹרְרָי

דִּשַּׁנְתָּ בַשֶּׁמֶן רֹאשִׁי כּוֹסִי רְוָיָה

ו אַךְ טוֹב וָחֶסֶד יִרְדְּפוּנִי כָּל-יְמֵי חַיָּי

וְשַׁבְתִּי בְּבֵית-יְהוָה לְאֹרֶךְ יָמִים