This morning’s Gospel reading is John 10:1–10:

Jesus said:
“Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber. But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice, as the shepherd calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has driven out all his own, he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him, because they recognize his voice. But they will not follow a stranger; they will run away from him, because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.” Although Jesus used this figure of speech, the Pharisees did not realize what he was trying to tell them.

So Jesus said again, “Amen, amen, I say to you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.”

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Today, we will sing the most well-known and comforting of the Psalms in our response today, although some may just recite it. It fits perfectly with our Gospel reading today, which inspired one of the oldest and most enduring of Christian allegories: Jesus as the Good Shepherd. Christian art used this imagery almost from the start of the church. Our front-page image was found in the catacomb of Domatilla, which might date back as far as 150 AD.

When we read, speak, or sing Psalm 23, we think of the abundance provided to us through the Lord. David wrote this psalm, likely as comfort during his early travails. It reminds us that the imagery of the Lord as a shepherd goes back even farther than Christ; Jesus certainly understood that, as this Gospel passage demonstrates. It provides another form of connection from Jesus to David and back to the Father, who of course provides for us as the psalm celebrates.

But what else comes to mind in the opening of Psalm 23?

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

The Psalm sings the praises of a Lord who provides for all of our necessities. “There is nothing I shall want” is a lyric of trust and faith in that context. The Good Shepherd guides us to our nourishment, shelter, and rest.

But there is another aspect to “there is nothing I shall want,” too. It is a warning to the sheep about putting their full trust in the Good Shepherd. What does the Psalm say the Lord provides for his flock? The green pastures, the still waters, of course. The Shepherd also anoints us for the sake of our spiritual nature, and also “prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies,” a promise of security from attack and death.

In fact, the Shepherd of Psalm 23 walks us “through the valley of the shadow of death,” defeating death itself and bringing us to eternal life. David sang of the Messiah in this passage, a hymn to salvation from the Enemy and the fallen world that surrounds us as a result of our sins.

That is, as long as we follow the Good Shepherd.

That brings us back to “want.” What do we want? We have a running joke in my family around birthdays, or maybe more accurately I have a running joke. Whenever I get asked what I want, I usually answer, “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men, and a Porsche.” Several years back, my father got me a Hot Wheels racer and a small box of dirt as a practical joke (which I enjoyed immensely, especially after he brought out the real gift). It was “piece of earth” and a Porsche, or something close enough to it.

Needless to say, the Porsche is the problem. Psalm 23 is more than just a celebration of the abundance of God; it is a reminder of what we should value, and what we should not value. “There is nothing I shall want” should be understood in the context of the rest of the psalm and the salvation promised in it; we should hear it as “there is nothing else I shall want.”

Instead, we want what we don’t really need, and as those wants become stronger, we listen less for the voice of the Good Shepherd. This is how sin leads us astray — we listen more to ourselves and our own ambitions and end up wandering from the Shepherd. Our desires and our sin drown out His voice. It’s not that the Shepherd isn’t at the gate calling out for us; it’s that we have stopped listening to Him and instead begun following others to ruin.

And the reason why that impulse remains within us is because of our natural inclination to sin. Jesus says, “They do not recognize the voice of strangers,” but sin is no stranger to us. And to the extent that the voice of sin comes from within us, we’re talking ourselves into damnation through our stubborn embrace of sin. And that’s all because we want what we do not need, and we lose sight of what we truly need in avarice and arrogance.

This point was so important that Jesus offered a rare explanation to the Pharisees of his parable. “Amen amen, I say to you, I am the gate for the sheep.” Jesus is both the Shepherd and the Gate, and only the sheep that put their trust in Him will safely pass through the valley of the shadow of Death to eternal salvation. To be one of that flock, we have to remember what we truly want, and to trust in the Lord that He will provide what we truly need to get there.

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want … than Him.

The front-page image is a detail from a fresco in the Catacomb of Domatilla, depicting Jesus as the Good Shepherd, c.200-300 AD. Via Wikimedia Commons.

“Sunday Reflection” is a regular feature, looking at the specific readings used in today’s Mass in Catholic parishes around the world. The reflection represents only my own point of view, intended to help prepare myself for the Lord’s day and perhaps spark a meaningful discussion. Previous Sunday Reflections from the main page can be found here.