Dinner With My Enemies--April 22, 2024

Dinner With My Enemies--April 22, 2024

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I 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." [Psalm 23:4-5]

Do you see it? Do you see who is there at the table?

It is important to note that the "enemies" don't disappear from the picture; rather, the presence of God makes us no longer ruled by fear of their presence.

If I may be honest with you for a moment here, as a pastor--as a (somewhat) trained, (moderately) seasoned, reader and teacher of the Scriptures and someone who is often invited into moments of deep crisis in people's lives--sometimes it seems to me we don't really read the words of Bible verses we memorized once upon a time, and we don't think about what they actually have to say any longer. We have a way of letting familiarity breed ignorance, at least when it comes to beloved passages and favorite verses from the Bible, so that we can only hear them saying what we want them to say.

The well-loved (and rightfully so!) words of the Twenty-Third Psalm are a case in point. The imagery and poetry of this old song are so familiar that even wider pop culture knows phrases like "the valley of the shadow of death" or a "cup that overflows" and peppers them into movies, TV shows, and novels. And for anybody who has spent any time at all in the church, lines like, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want" probably roll off the tongue straight from the mental filing cabinets nearly as easily as "Our Father, who art in heaven..."

And yet, every time I read these ancient lyrics, I am taken aback at the idea that our shepherding God sets a table... "in the presence of my enemies." And over the years as I have talked with and listened to folks about what this psalm is actually saying, it's funny how often these words about enemies at the table are forgotten or ignored. It's almost like we are so focused on the quaint pastoral imagery of shepherds and sheep grazing in a bright green meadow that we choose to pretend this talk of sharing a table with enemies is even there. If the psalmist has been picturing himself like a sheep so far in the psalm, that's rather like saying, "God has invited wolves to the picnic, and expects me not to freak out over it!"

We love the images of God as a shepherd supplying our needs, or leading us to nice quiet spots for rest alongside the quiet stream. But we don't know what to make of the possibility that we could be brought to the table with those we most strongly don't like... and for that somehow to be OK. And notice here, the Psalm is unnervingly silent about how the enemies got there, or why, or having weapons at the ready to stop them. The psalmist decidedly does NOT say, "I'm not scared of my enemies lurking around, because I've got my .45 here at my side." The psalmist explicitly does not put trust in his own strength, speed, or access to weapons. The only mention of anything like that is the Shepherd's "rod and staff" that the sheep don't get to use and couldn't grip in their hooves if they wanted to.

So instead of some picture of imagining we can make ourselves free from fear of "the enemy" by rounding up sticks or clubs or sharp teeth or horns or guns or bombs or bullets, the poet we all grew up memorizing gives us a scene in which we are totally vulnerable ourselves and entrust ourselves and our peace entirely to a God who lets enemies come near the table where we eat... and yet somehow, it is OK.

The Bible actually makes a pretty consistent point about this--again and again, the Scriptures warn the people of God NOT to trust in their own resources, defenses, or wealth. The Bible's many voices call for us to let God be in charge of establishing peace and justice rather than imagining (wrongly) that I will feel better at night if there's a weapon in the night stand. And the Bible has a way, in its most familiar and comforting passages, of describing God as the one who actually destroys swords and shields and spears. The famous poem we call Psalm 46, which inspired the great hymn, "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God," and which ends with the timeless line, "Be still, and know that I am God..."--that same psalm depicts God as the One who makes wars end and destroys all the weapons... because we will not need them anymore.

The Bible never--NEVER--gives the impression that we can get out from under the reign of fear with MORE weapons, or bigger walls, or larger armies. Whatever purpose those things may have, they cannot actually break the power of fear. The way to no longer be afraid of the enemy is not to put a wall between "us" and "them" or to try and build a bigger bomb than they have, but to find yourself at a table sitting across from the ones labeled "enemies" and to find that the God who shepherds makes us no longer ruled by fear of them. There at the table, where I find that there is enough for me, and that the "enemy's" presence doesn't actually threaten my ability to have a cup filled to the brim, there I discover peace has been waiting for my heart all along.

If we dare to actually take seriously the words of this psalm that you likely know by heart, we will find ourselves challenged as well as comforted. We will be, quite literally perhaps, disarmed as well as embraced. We will see that when God seeks to set us free from being ruled by fear, God's way is not to fool us into thinking we can keep everybody away that we don't like... or that we can find solace in having our own weaponry at hand... or that we can build a wall to keep "them" all out. God's way of freeing us from the power of fear always ends up bringing us to the table, and finding that God has invited our enemies there, too, and yet that because God has a watchful eye over the whole dinner, we do not need to be paralyzed by fear. Sheep may well be afraid of wolves watching while they graze, and for good reason--but ours is the God who envisions a future where wolves and lambs graze together (see Isaiah 11 among other places), rather than a future where lambs are walled in or put in cages or the wolves are all hunted down. God's plans are always bigger and more audacious than we could have imagined that way.

Today, let us listen again to the words that we have perhaps heard all our lives but never considered in depth. Let us hear again and dare to live the image of being sheep led by a good Shepherd who makes it possible for us to sit at a table where "enemies" are close by but without being afraid of them, and without thinking we'll feel safer with a sword in hand or a wall between us. God knows we won't--so God instead frees us from fear while we are all at the same table.

If you want to be free from the power of fearing the people you imagine as your "enemies," don't run from them. Rather, if we dare to trust a three-thousand-year old poet on the subject, let God invite you all to dinner.

Lord God, lead us to the tables you see fit, but give us confidence in your presence there.