“You anoint my head with oil…”
For sheep and their shepherds, summer is fly season.
According to lifelong shepherd, Phillip Keller, prime grazing season is complicated by the insects that swarm the flock when warm weather arrives. Keller’s book, The 23rd Psalm According to a Shepherd, describes the vermin hordes that descend upon the defenseless sheep. They are: “warble flies, bot flies, heel flies, nose flies, deer flies, black flies, mosquitoes, gnats,” and other parasites too many to name.
The nasal fly is particularly pernicious. These flies buzz around the sheep’s moist nostrils and lay their eggs in its damp environment. As nature would have it, these eggs birth larvae that work their way up the sheep’s nasal passages where they will “burrow into the flesh” and cause significant irritation and inflammation.
Yuck.
Understandably, these defenseless sheep will beat their head against anything hard to provide some momentary relief. Suffice it to say, this is not good. At the very least, these parasites annoy and aggravate the flock. At worst, the infections these parasites bring can lead to blindness. And then there’s the whole, ‘hit-your-head-against-anything-hard’ thing.
None of this is good.
Summertime, then, can become a terror for both sheep and shepherd. The insects, although small and seemingly trivial, can cause great distress for the sheep. Ever anxious, the sheep can rarely relax, lie down, or settle. Their days and nights are filled with stomping, racing, and thrashing about in an attempt to evade the winged tormentors.
It always seems to be fly season. There always seems to be something buzzing around our heads. Small annoyances irritate us, and we’ll thrash about in our attempts to deal with them. If fly season goes on too long without any relief, our anxiousness can cause real damage—primarily to ourselves. The ‘small things’ can drive us mad.
Shepherds, however, know how to respond to their sheep’s distress. “At the very first sign of flies among the flock, (the shepherd) will apply an antidote to their heads. (Some shepherds) prefer to use a homemade remedy composed of linseed oil, sulfur, and tar, and will smear it over the sheep’s nose and head as protection against nose flies.” When applied, the sheep’s behavior changes immediately. “Gone is the aggravation.
Gone is the frenzy. Gone is the irritability and restlessness. Instead, the sheep can start to feed quietly again.” Because of the good work of the shepherd, they will “soon lie down in peaceful contentment.”
Like the sheep of the pasture, I need to be anointed with oil by the Good Shepherd. Just as sheep desire the relief that only their shepherd can provide, I long to experience comfort from the swarm of circumstances that conspire to raise my anxiety and to frustrate me. If the marketplace for books, podcasts, TED Talks, videos, and presentations are any indication, I’m not alone. The ‘self-help’ industry thrives because it’s always fly season. We long to find the antidote for the annoyances and aggravations that accompany life.
No, we may not choose to anoint ourselves with oil, but we are certainly prone to self-medicate. We self-medicate with food, sugary-sweets, and other things that soothe our bodies. We self-medicate with drugs—whether of the ‘over the counter’ prescription or ABC Store variety. We self-medicate by choosing habits that allow us to escape the annoyances through fantasy or other deliciously effective escape hatches. ‘
The effectiveness of our attempts to anoint ourselves with oil is, as we well-know, fleeting at best.
I wish I could spiritualize the balm referenced in Psalm 23 to soothe our rough edges and reduce our anxieties. I wish there were a secret recipe that could be found in a footnote to this reference in our Bibles. I wish I knew what salve I need.
But that’s not for me to know. I am not the Good Shepherd. I do not know what’s best.
I can, however, say this: For God to anoint my head with oil—whatever that Divine, homemade concoction may be—I have to be close to the shepherd. And I know what it looks like be close to the Good Shepherd even when I choose not to be. Being close to the Good Shepherd means “walking humbly with Him.” I walk humbly with God when I arrange my day with times of prayer, silence, and scripture. I walk in the way of the Good Shepherd when I practice the faith in community. I am close to the Good Shepherd when I choose to be in His presence.
Philiip Keller points out that it’s tempting to think that the only encounter we need with the Good Shepherd is when we first get established in the flock--that is, when we make a profession of faith and are baptized. But this is not the only time we need to be close to the Good Shepherd. As fly season makes clear, one treatment by the shepherd will not suffice. We, like the sheep, must be anointed time and again.
It sounds too simple to be true. It feels counterintuitive. Rather than trying to be our own best shepherd, perhaps we need to draw close to the Best Shepherd and trust that the balm He’s mixed is precisely what our souls need.