Psalm 23

by Orlando Hernandez

This Thursday at Mass we observe the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed (I find comfort in the other, more inclusive name : “All Soul’s Day”). At the center of all the readings for this Mass is my beloved Psalm 23. I read in Wikipedia that in the 20th century church this psalm became associated with services for the dead, like funerals. It is appropriate that such a prayer, so full of life and hope, should be applied to death.

I have a history with Psalm 23. Though I spent most of my life away from God, God was always calling to me through this psalm. As a child in a home where there was no prayer I must have heard part of it somewhere. When we visited other homes I was always attracted to pictures depicting Jesus as the “Good Shepherd”, carrying a little lamb on His shoulders, or pictures of lovely guardian angels shepherding little children away from terrible dangers. I had so many childhood fears. These pictures would give me some sort of comfort. “Are there really supernatural beings out there who can protect me?”

In many movies that I saw on TV, when a loved one was buried, or when a ship was sinking, or a vampire monster was stalking, a character would proclaim a line from this psalm: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want!” or, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil!” I would be moved by these words. Was this prayer a sort of incantation against harm, or at least a source of relief in distress?

At the age of 60, not long after my conversion to Christianity, I sat next to my father’s hospice bed, as he struggled for breath during the last seconds of his life. I held his wrist. I felt the last heartbeat of his pulse. I felt him go from my life. I imagined I saw a solemn, kind-faced Jesus holding my father’s soul?, spirit?, in His arms as He took him up into this mysterious light above the dimly-lit room. He reminded me of the Good Shepherd. He was accompanied by angels similar to those I had seen in those childhood pictures. Was it my imagination? Was it a gift from my loving, consoling Lord?

As my sister, my wife, and I walked out of that nursing home into the night, we were like scattered sheep, in a world that suddenly seemed so unfamiliar. But I clung to that vision I had. The Shepherd was taking care of my father’s soul and He would get all of us through this.

The next day, at the cemetery office, while waiting for the appointment with the director, I was drawn to this very large Bible. It was opened to the page that contained Psalm 23. For the first time ever I read it from beginning to end, at least three times. Right then and there, and the hundreds of times since, that I have read this psalm, the Teacher tells me something like this:
“You must live your life from now on in this manner. You must do it for your father, who never had the chance. Be confident that I will always lead you to the right place. Come rest in me. I will soothe your hunger and thirst. I will guide you in the way of life that is right. Because you love Me you will learn. Death will only be a shadow, no longer supreme. I will fill this dark valley of tears with fruitful life. My rod and my staff together make a cross, the cross of your salvation. You’re safe, take courage! Come to My House, eat of My healing meal, no matter what dark baggage torments you. Drink from the overflowing cup of my very life-force. I anoint you with the soothing oil of my loving mercy. Come to My House. Live there with me forever. I will never let you go!”

And so my Lord fills me with trust and hope, even for my father, who is in His hands. This blessed psalm has different meanings for different folks at different times, but I am sure that it brings comfort and strength to everyone. Every time I hear Psalm 23 at a funeral Mass, or at “All Souls”, I re-live all these memories. Many people I know and love have died since then. The pain of loss is just as bad. But I am in God’s House, with His Community, vast and bright, on either side of death. My love of God, my faith, and my hope in God is mysteriously strengthened by each sad experience. Like St. Paul writes in today’s second reading (Romans 5: 5): “Hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” Thank you, Beloved.

Orlando Hernandez