Kushner's "The Lord is My Shepherd" explores appeal of 23rd Psalm
"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."
It's an opening line familiar to believer and atheist alike. For thousands of years these words have comforted listeners in synagogues and churches, in sickrooms and at gravesides. One of 150 psalms in the Hebrew Bible and Christian Old Testament, the 23rd is also arguably the best-known poem in the world.
How did this brief passage weather so much time and turmoil? Why does it still resonate with listeners, centuries and continents away from its first recitation? A lively, intelligent meditation by Rabbi Harold S. Kushner, first published last year and now released in a new paperback edition (Anchor Books; $11.95), proposes fascinating responses to these questions.
"I was a congregational rabbi for 30 years, and I always knew I had this secret weapon, the 23rd Psalm," said Kushner in a recent telephone interview from his suburban Boston home. "It always tranquilized people; it had an incredible power to calm them. I never gave much thought to why, any more than my doctor wonders why an aspirin stops my headache."
That changed after Sept. 11, 2001. All around him people were asking: How could God let this terrible thing happen? Kushner read the familiar words of the 23rd Psalm and heard something newly profound: "It was the answer to how to live in this crazy world," he said. "No one ever said life would be fair, but this very familiar piece of Scripture reminds us that God is on our side and gives us the means to cope with these terrible things."
Kushner, who will read from his book and answer questions in Seattle tonight, is well suited to this labor. He is both scholar and popular-culture commentator, an observant Jew comfortable writing for a readership ranging from ecumenical searchers to those ignorant of theology and wholly unfamiliar with spiritual introspection. A rabbi in the Conservative tradition of Judaism, Kushner moved into full-time writing and onto the best-seller list with his 1981 book, "When Bad Things Happen to Good People," written after the loss of his 14-year-old son to a rare disease. Kushner's appeal is such that his several books on ethics, prayer, Judaism and the role of God in modern life are often shelved in several places, from health to religion, within the same bookstore.
Kushner devotes a short chapter to each line of the 23rd Psalm and the ideas found in its poetic phrasing. Years ago while researching his doctoral dissertation on the Psalms, he discovered the risks of parsing such romantic language.
"It ruined my prayer life at the time," he recalled. "I'd be reading one out loud at worship, yet thinking in the back of my mind, 'Well, this is a communal lament, written in such-and-such a time.' " There needs to be some balance in the work, he explains, otherwise it ends up being something like dissecting a frog: "You end up with a lot of information, but no frog."
In seeking that balance, Kushner mines diverse sources, from biblical narrative to Hollywood films and popular novels. He quotes psychologists, poets and prophets. Along with his close reading, Kushner posits an overarching message he finds in the passage. This narrator, he believes, evolves from someone "utterly dependent on God," who ultimately comes to see, as the Hebrew translation of the Psalm puts it, "that goodness and mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life." By the end of these lines, the narrator is empowered: "There is a much more reciprocal relationship with God."
Kushner, who appears to be blessedly allergic to the pabulum often passed off as spiritual meat by other big sellers in his genre, describes himself as "a little suspicious of New Age philosophy, partly because I think it is a little too sunny. It misses the tragic dimension of life, and authentic religion must deal with that."
The trend toward books that promote religious texts and beliefs as keys to worldly success is particularly alarming. "These books can be too much about using God, rather than serving God."
Kushner sums up his detractors with similar directness: "Some people are threatened by my theology. They think I am diminishing God ... they would like to believe, simply, that God is all powerful. My central point is that the authentic voice of religion is not the voice that explains or justifies, but it is the voice that comforts."
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