Living in coronavirusworld 164: No Kap, no justice

 9/10

Now we know

California's shaking like an angry child will
Who has asked for love and is unanswered still

Jackson Browne

A temperature of 120’ has been recorded in California.  Wildfires are in California, Washington  and Oregon. The skies above San Francisco are orange. Oregon orders 500,000 people to evacuate. The fire in Southern California began with a stray pyrotechnic at a “gender reveal party.”

The West Park Center program committee meets. Attempting to make plans to create a virtual season. Some groups will be allowed in to use the stage for making videos or streaming. We continue to work on a reimagined residency project. There are obvious concerns about expanding the diversity of our residencies, presentations, etc. It was always our intention to lead in this, but we are nowhere near that.  Even though we are perceived to be a “white” neighborhood, there is still a Black Baptist church seven blocks up the street. West Park has hosted two Black congregations. And there are still public housing projects in the neighborhood.  As the Upper West Side has gentrified, these populations have become more and more invisible. Historically, these were some of the most successful public housing projects in the country because of the neighborhood's economic integration. But as the the middle class has been forced out, we are left with the very rich and very poor, a stratified situation that gets worse every year. 

I also challenge the committee to think creatively about the hotels that continue to house homeless people in a hostile neighborhood. What is our capacity to engage the neighborhood creatively? The answers are not clear. But our original vision was to be a place of individual and social transformation through arts and culture, intergenerational education and spirits exploration. That has subtly changed into something slightly different. But that original call remains. 

I talk with an old friend in Portland.  Seemingly the epicenter of the apocalypse with raging fires and social upheaval. Ever surging homeless population. Portlandia is is being shaken to its foundations. My friend steps outside, choked  in the smoky air. The wind is dying down…maybe…. He and his wife are getting ready to move across the river to Vancouver, Washington. 

The NFL kicks off its season with playing “Lift Every Voice and Sing” (the so-called Black National Anthem) as well as “The Star Spangled Banner.” Players are allowed to wear names of police violence victims or social justice slogans on the back of their helmets.  There is a pregame “show of unity” with opposing players locking arms. And the socially distanced Kansas City crowd boos. And when their Chiefs score, they do the “Arrowhead Chop” chant and gestures.  All these showy demonstrations of corporate conscience ring hollow, seem a cynical sham, as long as Colin Kaeprernick, the first to take a knee, remains a pariah.  Remains unemployed and unwelcome and unapologized to. No Kap, no justice. Its that simple. 

Living in coronaviruswolrd 148: to make a new life

8/25

to make a new life

 A visit to the eye doctor.   A quiet iced latte at the Double Dutch cafe.  A fight with my computer, wasting over an hour. A fight I never win. and two hours wasted. Trying to decide if it’s time for a new one or not. 

memoiral large

memorials small

And finally time for a walk. Notice the memorials, both large and small. People continue to die, we remember them on the street because there is no place else. A homeless man is building a plan to get off the street. More and more  homeless persons want no part of the overcrowded shelters.  No social distancing.  Hotbeds of covid19. The mayor’s promise to Upper West Side residents to return the homeless people housed  in hotels to public shelters is a sad acquiescence, to borrow Robin Di Angelo’s phrase, ‘White fragility.” And a potential death  sentence to those re-sheltered. 

The Republicans gather for the second night of their convention. The president’s wife Melania is the featured speaker.  For the first time someone expresses compassion for the families of the 170000 dead. A picture of an alternative reality is painted where a President opens up historic opportunities for people of color to make their dreams real, where innocent captives are rescued from hostile rogue nations, where millions of lives are saved by his decisive actions, where the world looks  up to us as a shining city on a hill and a strong economy is just waiting to be unleashed again.  Well, there is that armed couple who “defended themselves” against peaceful, non-violent Black Lives Matter protestors with serious fire power.  Just in case you were wondering. Two very different realities existing side by side at the same  time.   We are living in a science fiction novel. Only it’s all too real.

back in action

The 115th Street floating craps game is back in action again.  

Living in Coronavirusworld 31:" ...try to do what good lay in our power."

4/22

Good Question (Cathedral of St. John the Divine, 110th Street)

Our “underground group”…gathers again on ZOOM…over  coffee, of course.

Today’s hat of the day is a 1940’s  Oklahoma University hat commemorating the recent 25th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing. 

Oklahoma

Brother Phelps reminds us of how hard it was for  people to stop thinking it had been done by an Arab or Muslims and realize it had been done by a whitebread American.   How President Bush’s iteration of “ we are good, they are evil.,” is the opposite of the  reformed theological tradition’s understanding that we are all sinners.  Has something to do with the continuing popularity of World War II movies where evil was so clear and we were on the side of right. 

Behind the protests demanding that the  country reopen is this attitude of “no one tells me what to do…” Typical of a six year old’s response to the world, says Phelps.  I respond that I have by nature a lifelong resistance to authority. That my natural tendency would be  to be out and about and not worry. But it was my awareness of what the impact of my actions might be on others that keeps me inside. “That’s the difference between a six year old and an adult’. Phelps responds.

It’s this ongoing American problem of the “rugged individual,” the fear of loss of control over one’s life and the failure to understand how what I do affects others.  The tension between “individual rights” and “social responsibility” which mirrors American evangelicals emphasis on individual salvation as opposed to stewardship of creation.  I describe the rush to reopen and the President’s goading as “extremely dangerous and potentially deadly” which brother Holton say would make a great t-shirt .

In talking about Camus’ the Plague, the similarities to our situation are striking. It’s moving that Camus’ humanism allows his priest, Father Paneloux, to grow.  The difference between his first two sermons is dramatic. And these words, to me, describe our task: No, we should go forward, groping our way through the darkness, stumbling perhaps at times, and try to do what good lay in our power.”  He had earlier spoke of the impact of children’s suffering and then said, “…who would dare assert that eternal happiness can compensate or a single moment’s human suffering?”  Another character, the journalist Rambert, desperate to escape and go to his lover, is transformed by his daily volunteer work and decides he must stay.  (Paneloux had said, “We all must be the one who stays…”) I share Camus’ humanism in that to me human solidarity in the face of struggle is the most sacred thing there is… And Steve Phelps says the Jesus of the gospels was a humanist...

Our plague, like Camus’ plague, is unveiling injustice. We can only hope, as Sam believes, that a new order will emerge.

Phelps points out that the two great crises of US history, the Civil War and the Great Depression, were preceded by weak Presidents, namely Buchanan and Hoover. Lincoln and Roosevelt were not “great” when they began, but grew into greatness in the facing of their crises. We can only hope for the same as we look to the future.

Clyde speaks of the quiet all around, like late summer in the city. Yes, I say, like it’s always August.  And I’m still waiting for Easter Sunday. 

                                                            ****

I look at the poster I received at the Penguins-Devils game in Newark on March 10th.  That was the last public event I attended. It's kind of a cool riff on a Batman "Bat Signal" theme, bit a little too Devilsphile for me to frame.  I get the sentiment, though.  We should send for Batman now.....

calling Batman

                                                             **** 

My friend Hugo, who works at one of the West Side Federation for Senior and Supportive Housing residences, has brought me a lot of food.  (Origin seems to be with unneeded airline food…) Way too many sandwiches, so I decide to share with Sam for her food project with the homeless. We’ll meet at 5 on. Broadway near the subway.

On the way there, a woman on the sidewalk on 116th asks me to “help her get a meal.” I at first say “no,”then realize I’ve got lunch bags so I go back and give her one. She takes the bag the says, “how about some money?“  I reply, “you said you were hungry, I gave you food…” 

I meet Sam on Broadway, We’re each wearing our masks.

Sam

An unmasked man, Hispanic, walks unsteadily over to us. “Quiere morir?” He says, “Quiere morir?” “No mi hermano, no. No me quiero morir.  Porque algien se quiere morir? No hay razon en eso..”   He tries other conversational ploys like “De donde viene?” And both Sam and I tell him we’re from Nueva York, But he keeps returning to “Quiere morir?” (Do you want to die?) and he’s clearly drunk and much too close.  We need to move on. 

There are more and more people on the street, more and more aggressive and desperate in their begging. Obviously, no one wants to get near.  I remind myself that there are free meals at Wadleigh High School across the street and around the corner from me every day between 11:30 and 1. 

George lived here...

On 110th, I pass the building where George and Ira Gershwin lived when they wrote Rhapsody in Blue. What you never knew....

I decide to walk home. Stop at the Silver Moon bakery and have my first pastry since Lent began. And an iced coffee. Walking up the street with the post apocalytic emptiness of Broadway, I think, “This is weird, this is just weird.”

weird, just weird

                                                                                                                                              ****

Wednesday night, my friends Joel and Carrie of ‘Hot Glue and the Gun”  host the second installment of their “Gluey, Zoomy Show.”  As someone comments in the chat flow, a combination of Kukla,Fran and Ollie, Sesame Street and Pee Wee’s Playhouse….” Man does someone else out there actually remember Kukla, Fran and Ollie?  They are hitting just the right place  for coronavrusworld. Especially ending with a dance party where we’re all invited to come on down and  hit the (virtual) floor. (http://www.hotglueandthegun.com/)

Meanwhile. My friend (and producer of my album) Luba Dvorak) continues his weekly “Quarantine Rambles” live from  Houston. (https://www.lubadvorak.com/)

Luba notices me in the room and mentions my album,”Robert Brashear: Songs Vol.1” (cdBaby, iTunes, Amazon, Spotify..) Thank you, Luba. His “Brooklyn Twang” Americana goes down easy.

                                                                                                              ****

Thursday, my mom’s assisted care facility is setting up ZOOM calls for their residents. We’ve only got ten minutes. By the time we get set up, it’s all but over.  We’ll try again next week…

Late afternoon, go down to RL’s for a “Tribal Council” to introduce RL to ZOOM and talk about present and future Open Mic projects. We will be joined by Steve Blane, my friend and frequent collaborator.  RL’s is about the only place I would venture into. Almost hermetically sealed except for Dion’s daily visits.  On the way, I stop at the darkened “Hi Life” for a double bourbon to take with me. Even though it’s perfectly legal, the dark art eco interior and empty bar gives it all a kind shady feeling. RL sends Dion and I home by cab. 

Another day in coronavirusworld.

Living in coronavirusworld 17: such amazing consciousness contained in such a vulnerable vessel

4/8

Masks by Mili

We gather in our virtual booth for our Wednesday Underground meeting.  No one has watched  Tiger King yet. Here is a sampling offer collective wisdom:

 Clyde tells us that we still have over 65,000 homeless in New York City. There are over 100,000 vacant rooms. The homeless coalition is requesting 30,000 be set aside. We could lose half of our homeless people. No one will act. Even though there may be as much as $100 million available for using hotels for housing, etc. Maybe it’s fear that once  they are in, they will never leave. In the meantime, the virus spreads. 

At the shelter on Wards’ Island, there is no discernible social distancing.  There’s no soap. No sanitizers. When they do arrive, gone by midmorning. People shower in their clothes because thee is no laundry. There have been 68 deaths so far. And no testing.

On the corrections side, 280 have been released from Rikers, another 400 scheduled. But Governor Cuomo, despite his rising star, refuses to act on release from the state prison system. 

What we’re seeing is a portal into our future society. Could  it be  a door? It has taken the lid off our social cauldron. And it's more clear than ever that though we are all connected, poor people don’t count. Our friend Steve always sees the possible, the blossoming something new. Others of us are are more sanguine. As a friend once said, cup half empty or half full depends on whether you are pouring or drinking,  

It’s open ended. We could see the break up of the United States as we know it. Or the consolidation of an authoritarian autocracy. Or perhaps the birth of a real democracy. This time there are comparisons with the Hoover Presidency with it bread lines and Hoovervilles. Real resistance was rising. It took Roosevelt’s New Deal to preserve capitalism.  It was Simone Weil, critiquing revolution, who said It is not religion but revolution which is the opium of the masses.

While the plague rages around us, our President uses this as an excuse to call for renewal of the war on drugs and diverts relief money to further sealing the border. 

We are stuck in the present, it is all we know. In our isolation there is profound loneliness, the absence of God. Everyone is suspicious one another. Our job is to facilitate connection. We are to claim …and hold…sacred space. And according to brother Steve, dance. 

All this conversation is related to our discussion of Albert Camus’ The Plague.  It’s shocking to  read this book from the 1940’s and see how similar our situations are…the denial, the hiding, the lying until it’s too late. People continuing to live their lives as if everything is normal until bodies start dropping around them. 

Camus (and Sartre as well) is confronting the absurd. And perhaps nothing more than the absurdity of humanity, such amazing consciousness contained in such a vulnerable vessel. 

I of course remembered this Camus quote, “Everything I know about morality and the obligations of men, I owe it to football (soccer).”

                                                                 ****

I have given in and will wear actual masks. My friend Milica has made me two. Typically stylish. She comes down to the lobby to greet me. She says, "When I hear the cheering at seven…" and she tears up.  She’s old enough to remember the bombing of Belgrade. The hiding. 

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Lines now for the drug store. 

Line for Rite Aid

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Thirty eight percent of Americans surveyed said they would not drink Corona Beer under any circumstances.  The Corona brewery is shutting down operations. 

Living in coronavirusworld 7: People are dying

3/29

RIP DeJuan

So how do we distinguish a weekend? As I thought about that, I realized that the online consulting work I’ve bene doing is in  fact, work, and I could commit to not doing any work on the weekend, just to have some semblance of a weekend. Although I did take tine for the AIDS network meeting on Saturday afternoon, I won’t do anything more with that until the weekend is past.

                                                                                                               ****

My friend and sometimes singing partner Steve has not been feeling  well. He had a slight fever and…He seems to be better. But. Going to do a full quarantine for two weeks.  This afternoon he does a special “American Songbook” show where people can send him requests and he will play and they can “perform.”  His audience is having a tough time with the American  Songbook concept. No Carpenters. No Carol King. He does do a song of mine written in that piano jazz/cabaret vein, “I’m Not in Love.”  The second time around, I choose “Blue Skies,” just like we recently did in Florida. It’s a nice break. 

American Sing Book singers at Rudy's, Lake Worth, Fla.

After the song session, he hosts another of his “BS” sessions. Most participants are from Florida, where he winters. Among the topics is a longish exploration of natural home remedies for the virus. I always find these somewhat annoying starting with the assertion that they actually work. I always feel that ok, if this really works, why isn’t Gov.Cuomo telling us? And there’s always a sense of establishment medicine’s prejudice against natural remedies and semi-secret knowledge. I think believing in these is a way to convinced ourselves we can have some control in a situation where everything seems out of control. And sometimes they actually work. Finally the beaches in Lake Worth have been closed. But the Governor of Florida has been very slow to act. 

                                                                                                              ****

                                                                       Another cold and wet day to be outside.

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The Sunday night We Love Songwriters Open Mic has its second virtual session having debuted last Sunday. (So glad all of today’s on line sessions have worked.) I’m trying to pull together another virus song, but am not quite ready so I’m happy when CC asks to sing my tongue  in  cheek Open Mic Lament (Read the Room). We spend as much time talking with one another as we do playing which we don’t normally do when we’re at Bar 9, our regular  Sunday night spot where Lin Manuel Rivera’s Love Supreme Freestyle tried out their Broadway material and where Cecily Strong has more than once been in the audience.  I’m getting to know my colleague singer-songwriters better than I ever have.  So there is that.

3/30

It’s a warmer day. On my walk, on the edge of the park,  I find a makeshift memorial for someone named DeJuan.  Was it CoVid19? It’s not clear, but there are now over 1550 CoVid19 deaths in New York. Yes, people are dying. It’s real.

My old West Park Church is having a Bible Study based on my recent blog on Psalm 23.There are some glitches getting started, but it comes off. At 7 PM, we hear from one person’s window the nightly cheers for medical workers on their way to the hospitals. (While the workers appreciate this, what they really need are masks and equipment.) There’s a feeling that things may/will never be the same. Most of us are over 70. Not in my lifetime, says Russ. It’s been a very clear sign that the way we’ve been doing things globally just doesn’t work. But do  we have the creativity and will power to do what is necessary? We vacillate between hope and despair. Some in the group are frustrated by the “younger generation” but I see a lot there. We do feel the shadow of death surrounding us, we’re all closer to the end the the beginning. It is sometimes hard to believe that God is truly with us, that we are being protected. For most of us, it’s not so much death we fear as the complete breakdown of society. We are also aware that the disease is not an equalizer, that for many it is is such worse. Especially the homeless population. I now learn that the shelter.we volunteer and serve a meal at the first Sunday of every month has closed. We will not be serving next week. What has happened to all these women?

The songwriters workshop meets again. Probably over half the songs offered are efforts to deal with the virus. That’s what we do. Some are cynical, Some satiric. A strong sense of anger, even bitterness. I’ve been trying to repurpose a song for the virus. This is what I came up with:

Everything’s Going to Be Okay (coronaversion)

We live in a season of virus in the air

Keep your distance, don’t touch, better beware

We live in a season of staying inside

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide

And I knew my troubles ain’t no worse than yours

But troubles are still troubles that’s for sure

How are we supposed to make plans my friend?

Are we closer to the beginning, or the end?

They say this is a “strange and confusing time”

I keep checking, but I’m feeling fine

How to understand, how to make sense

When keeping apart is the best defense

What am I supposed to understand 

About a virus everywhere in every land?

Until the day when we’re set free again

I miss the touch of lovers, touch of friends

I step outside just to ease my mind

Look around in there, not sure what you’ll find

I try real hard not to get depressed

Try real hard not to give in to the stress

I look up the street and what do I see?

An old man leans on his cane looks up at me

Says “son, I just got one thing to say.

Everything’s gonna be ok”

Not sure if I believe him but it sure felt good to hear him say

Everything’s gonna be ok.

We live in a  season of virus in the air

Keep your distance, don’t touch, better beware

We live in a season of staying inside

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide

Still I believe everything will be ok

Maybe enough for another day

Maybe just enough for today

My friends say, but it is not going to be ok.  And you do not believe it. And the more I think about it,  the more I know they are right.  I don’t believe it. I need to reflect and have another go at this….

*

4th Sunday in Lent: Coronavirusworld

3/22

The word on the street.....

Lots of conflicted feelings about going to Ecclesia in Marcus Garvey Park today. Of course services at Good Shepherd-Faith-and all Presbyterian Churches- are cancelled today. But my brother Clyde  will be in the Park to serve the homeless people who gather there and I want to be with him. 

I’ve come to understand however, that it’s not simply about ourselves when we take a risk. It’s others we put at risk as well.   That raises the stakes ethically. And I’m just at the end of a self-quarantine due to a close friend of mine having come down with the virus. But after much refection, based on the fact that we will be outside, based on Clyde’s understanding of what’s at stake and the fact that many food programs for homeless people have shut down and we are providing a meal, I decide to go. 

It’s colder than it’s been most of the week. Back to the high 30’s. The streets are very quiet.  Even my favorite coffee shop that intended to stay open for carryout has given up. I take the slow walk to the drumming circle at Marcus Garvey.

I find Clyde in a theological conversation about the nature of God with a most emphatic man from Jamaica. As he enters into a discourse on the “illegal Maccabees Bible,” it’s time to begin our service. 

(I later learn that the Maccabees Bible, including the four books of Maccabees and Psalm 151, was banned in British colonial empire days and possession of it considered seditious and punishable by imprisonment!)

There are about half a dozen folks as we begin. Including one who only speaks Spanish. That number will grow as we continue. Our Jamaican friend coughs and Clyde immediately gives a passionate discourse about how to cough and no spitting.  He also talks about fear. How our strange days create fear and we continue to come to the park to allay those fears. We try to get everyone at least six feet apart. Clyde explains how we will have eucharist in only one species today. Each host will be placed on an individual napkin. 

We begin our service. Read the gospel, John 9: 1-41, the story of the man born blind and Jesus healing him with mud. My choice, however, will be to preach on the 23rd Psalm, which I read in Spanish before I begin…..

My friends…these are strange days we are living in. I have never experienced anything like this in my lifetime.  It’s the kind of feeling like in science fiction or horror movies. And it’s the whole world….last night at 9PM Pope Francis called for the  whole world to pray at the same time.  They’re asking us to stop every night at 8PM to say a word for health care and wellness workers. In Spain, France, Italy and Israel they go to windows to applaud workers on the way  to the hospital. 

(Clyde interjects…and they sing!)

So how bad is it now in New York?  New York State has 5298 cases….40% of the nation’s total. At the beginning of the week we had 700. That’s a nearly 700% increase.in one week!  So it’s real. Does anyone here know someone who has the virus? I do. 

The streets have an eerie quiet to them. All the closed shops and stores. We’ve been through hard times before. But it was different. We could come together. Sing songs together. Dance. Play ball games. Hold each other. That’s how we got through.  So what do we do this time?  It’s a great time for ZOOM. They have increased their value 26% in the last month while the market has plunged by 32%. Friday night I was in a nationwide concert on ZOOM. That’s how we do. But not if you’re my mom in her assisted living facility. Not if you’re someone without a phone. You are isolated and alone. 

 So how do we reflect on the moment theologically?  The lectionary this week is filled with rich passages. Some of my favorites…like 1 Samuel 16: 1-13 where Samuel goes to Jesse and goes through all his sons before finally landing on David, the youngest and least likely to be the anointed. Or John 9: 1-41 where Jesus heals a man born blind with a little spit and mud. Another favorite. (Used as an ascription for Martin Scorsese’s “Raging Bull”..) Both of those have the stuff for many sermons.

But today I have to go with Psalm 23. That’s it, our “go to” Psalm. The one we go to for comfort. There’s a lot of reasons for that. It’s used at probably every funeral we’ve ever been to in our lives. It’s part of the “walk around Bible” most of us have inside of ourselves. Back in the day, the old folks used to have all kinds of Bible verses memorized. They could walk around with them. Not so much anymore. For one thing, we all used to use the King James. Now there are so many versions, there’s no real common shared Bible. And two, well, we just don’t. But we’ve still got Psalm 23.

My denomination uses the New Revised Standard Version. Just not the same.  The darkest valley just doesn’t get you like the valley of the shadow of death….and that’s kind of what it feels like right now. My kids have been fairly frequently reminding me that I’m in the target group. One of my friends is still in the middle  of the fever stage. We worry about my mom. There is a shadow hanging over us. And it’s not just illness. I have friends who have lost all income as bars and restaurants shut down. And multiply that across the country across the world…it’s a BIG shadow. 

But the psalm is about hope. There is the image of bounty. My cup runneth over. (So much better than ‘overflows.”) We always have the choice to view our life as scarcity or abundance. Need or capacity.  When I started community organizing, we started with "Needs assessments. ”  And in most of the communities I worked in the needs were so great that at that point, people were ready to give up. On the other hand, if we started with capacity, it’s a very different story. We always discover we’ve got resources we didn’t even realize we had. 

Theologian Walter Breuggeman  said that doxology is beginning of resistance. Giving thanks is what it takes to start your way back. When I’d been fired and lost my job, I felt so alone. But then a friend asked what I had to be thankful for. It took me aback. But also helped me get on my feet again. I had so much to be thankful for. Nahum Ward-Lev says at the end of every day, we should make a list of what happened during the day for which we have gratitude. It’s not a bad exercise. 

And I will dwell in the house of the lord my whole life long? Or forever? I like  forever. 

Even in the shadows, God is with us. And if we look deeper, listen deeper, what do we see? In his beautiful poem Lockdown, Irish Father Richard Hendrick reminds us that in Wuhan Province, the air is clear again, the sky blue. And people hear the birds sing again. In Assissi, people’s voices fill the square and touch the lives of those who live alone.  We’ve got a chance to stop. To take a breath. And maybe figure out how to heal ourselves. And heal the earth. 

…we shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever…

Amen

We have our prayers of  the people. Share the peace from afar. Then one by one, come forward for eucharist. It seems to work relatively smoothly with some hiccups. Someone coughs on a laminated song sheet and we have to get rid of it immediately. 

As we are finishing eucharist, a van stops by. A Park ranger gets out and stops to investigate. “What’s going on here?” She asks.

“We’re having church” says Clyde, “and then lunch.”

“Well keep a safe distance,” the ranger says, “Six feet apart” and then takes off. It’s a reminder of what is so hard to enforce. Even after the ranger’s visit, we still have to remind our congregation over and over.

Finally, Clyde says, ”If we can’t keep six feet away, we just can’t do this anymore…”

 Put the lunch bags on the altar. People come up one at a time. There are so many, we’ve barely enough food. The people take their bags and move on.

Clyde shakes his head. It’s been a struggle. ‘I don’t know” he says. “Maybe we’ll just have morning prayer, forego the eucharist. I don’t like that idea, but…” and he shares the potential vulnerability of his home situation and sense of responsibility. 

“We’ll just have to see…”

No one knows what happens next.

I start my walk home through the empty streets.

No one knows.

Psalm 23

1   The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.2        He makes me lie down in green pastures;
     he leads me beside still waters;3        he restores my soul.
     He leads me in right paths
          for his name’s sake.

4   Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
          I fear no evil;
     for you are with me;
          your rod and your staff —
          they comfort me.

5   You prepare a table before me
          in the presence of my enemies;
     you anoint my head with oil;
          my cup overflows.6   Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
          all the days of my life,
     and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD
          my whole life long.

Psalm 23 King James Version (KJV)

23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.