Secure Life (23:4)

From a life of abundant ease, the psalmist moves to a description of fearful threat. In the migration through the spring landscape in search of ever-elusive grass and water, the flock must pass at times into and through the deep, rugged wadis—dry stream beds cut through the semidesert hills by the seasonal torrents unleashed by the winter rains. The air in the bottom of these wadis is heavy with the rising heat of the day, and the canyon depths are swathed in dark shadows as the rising cliff walls exclude the distant sun. At this moment of crossing the wadi floor, the pleasant scenes of green pastures and still waters seem far removed—there is no grass or water, the heat can be oppressive, and the whole flock must struggle up the steep sides of the canyon to resume its journey toward the next feeding place.

Valley of the shadow of death. There is some evidence in Hebrew for the use of hyperbolic word constructions such as this one to express the superlative—the most extreme. The Hebrew word ṣalmawet is apparently a combination of two words: ṣel (“shadow”) and mawet (“death”). Together these words express the superlative—in this case, something like “the shadowiest of all shadows.” Thus, contemporary translations tend to replace the traditional translation with the more prosaic “deepest shadow.” The lxx (skias thanatou) shows that the literal meaning was not entirely lost on the readers, and it is probable that the author of Psalm 23 used the phrase purposefully to emphasize the danger and threat that confronted the flock in crossing these wadis.

I remember hiking down Wadi Qelt from Jerusalem to Jericho with a friend. A narrow, ancient Roman aqueduct, still flowing with water, clung to the canyon wall at a height of several hundred feet. We began our journey following the rugged footpath on the opposite canyon wall, dipping at points to the bottom of the wadi and back up the other side. It took only about two such trips down into the shadowy depths of the stifling heat at the wadi bottom (and this was in the early morning!) and scrambling back up the steep limestone wall to regain the path, before we overcame our natural reluctance of heights and continued our journey walking along the outer rim of the aqueduct—or, in the most narrow portions, in the aqueduct itself.

Even so my two-liter bottle of water was depleted halfway through our journey. When we stopped at St. George’s monastery to replenish our supply, the water tap in the courtyard first emitted only steam, and then a grudging stream of almost boiling water. I had enough trouble dragging myself up and down those rocky hills. I cannot imagine the difficulty of herding a whole flock of sheep through the “valley of the shadow of death.”

I will fear no evil. Despite the oppressive and threatening setting, the psalmist/sheep is unafraid. Because he fears Yahweh, he need not fear anything else. The rugged circumstances offered every reason for fear. On my personal journey down Wadi Qelt, dehydration was a real possibility. I also remembered halfway through the trip that this was the remote location on the way “down from Jerusalem to Jericho” that Jesus’ Good Samaritan saved the life of the man who had been robbed and left for dead by thieves (Luke 10:25–37). The psalmist’s very real reasons for fear fade, however, in the presence of the shepherd/Yahweh.

Your rod and your staff. The psalmist of Psalm 22, when taunted by foes crying “He trusts in the Lord; let the Lord rescue him” (22:8a), responds with an affirmation of trust and confidence: “You who fear the Lord, praise him!… For he has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help.” Similarly, our psalmist knows that it is the presence of Yahweh’s rod and staff that vanquishes fear before the dependent flock. Life with the shepherd is secure; the rod and staff will guide and protect.

Both terms employed here are variously translated in different contexts. Either can be called a “staff, (walking) stick” for support while walking, presumably used by the shepherd to guide the movement of the flock by pushing and striking the sheep. If there is any clear distinction between the two, it is likely that “rod” (šebeṭ) is a shorter, mace-like implement that could be used as a striking weapon for raining heavy blows against enemy or attacking beast. “Rod” can also assume in royal contexts the meaning “scepter” and becomes a visible ornament of kingly authority. Graphic depictions of such royal scepters—usually a short, rod-like handle with a heavy striking knob at the end—appear frequently in the paintings and reliefs of the ancient Near East. By contrast, the “staff” (mišʿenet) more frequently suggests a longer, supporting staff and is associated on occasion with the support of the sick or elderly.

The “comfort” these implements provide is the reassurance of guidance in correct paths to abundant food and water, and of protection by the shepherd from the dangers and enemies encountered on the way between areas of pasturage. As the sheep trust the shepherd, so the psalmist encourages the reader to join in trusting Yahweh.