The Lord has rejected his altar and abandoned his sanctuary. He has given the walls of her palaces into the hands of the enemy; they have raised a shout in the house of the LORD as on the day of an appointed festival. – Lamentations 2:7

Today’s Scripture Reading (May 18, 2017): Lamentations 2

A few centuries ago the debated question was whether or not it was possible that the earth actually circled the sun. The discussion was fierce. After all, the Bible said it was the sun that was in motion. And the Bible couldn’t be wrong. The Bible isn’t – but it does often describe what it is that we see and to some degree what it is that we feel. And no matter what the truth is – what we see is that the sun is in motion.

So Jeremiah continues his lament, and his cry is that God has left Israel – and has even abandoned his own temple and sanctuary. But the reality was that that was simply how it looked and felt. The truth was that Israel had long ago walked away from God. He had become nothing more than jewelry that they wore through life; a name that they mentioned and a tradition that they kept.

But the reality was that whether God had walked away, or whether the people had, the result was still the same. There was a distance between the people and God. The question that Jeremiah, and we, often seem to ask is “what is it that has caused God to walk away.” But in actuality God wasn’t the one in motion – the people are. We are the ones that have stopped taking the things of God seriously. We have walked away – it just feels like he has.

God has never wanted to be a compartment of our lives. He is not a charm we wear around our neck or a tradition that we keep. He is God; the author, creator and the critical component of who we are. He has never walked away – but we continually do.

We may feel like God has abandoned us. But the question that we really need to begin to ask is this – to where is it that I have moved? Because God has made a promise to us that he will always be close if that is where we want him to be.

Tomorrow’s Scripture Reading: Lamentations 3

Bitterly she weeps at night, tears are on her cheeks. Among all her lovers there is no one to comfort her. All her friends have betrayed her; they have become her enemies. – Lamentations 1:2

Today’s Scripture Reading (May 17, 2017): Lamentations 1

William Butler Yeats penned these words:

Come away, O human child:

To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping

than you can understand.

They are the words of one who knows the tragedy of life, and maybe, for a moment, wishes that he could be a child again. We all have those moments. The death of someone close, moments of disaster, a diagnosis of sickness, all of these shared elements of life and more have the power to drive us to tears and make us wish that we could return to the innocence that we once knew. But we also know and understand that weeping goes hand in hand with the pleasures of life: if we never love, then we would never know the pain of love lost. If we never know sadness, we will never know real happiness.

Jeremiah is often called the weeping prophet. His voice of woe – and his tears – were rejected during his lifetime. But the truth is that he had a lot to cry over. He stood at the tipping point of his civilization – he saw what was to come and, in the short term, all he saw was pain in the future of his nation – a nation that he loved.

It is impossible to watch the pain of those that we love and not weep. We all want and dream of the very best for those around us. And when that is interrupted – even when they are the ones that are at fault – all there is left is a deep sorrow. For some, the response is not to love – to hold everything at arm’s length and let nothing get close enough to cause the pain that might lead to tears. But the price of that lifestyle is high – if that is our response we will never enjoy the pleasure of love.

So Jeremiah dared to take the risk; he loved. He loved a nation – and a people. Their rebellion did not stop his love, and their pain was the cause of his tears. He cannot help but look down on the defeated city of Jerusalem and imagine the tears of the city crying with him. Both the prophet and the city cried bitterly over what might have been but wasn’t.

The Christian church is built on the same risk that Jeremiah too; it is based on love. The church balances itself on the point between our love for a God that decided to bend down to earth and redeem his creation, and the sure knowledge that his action was the cause of the death of his son; the one who came to save us was also the one who died. Our gatherings are celebrations – but they are also a reason to weep. And as we worship, both emotions are very appropriate.

Tomorrow’s Scripture Reading: Lamentations 2

This is what the LORD says: “See, I will stir up the spirit of a destroyer against Babylon and the people of Leb Kamai. – Jeremiah 51:1

Today’s Scripture Reading (May 16, 2017): Jeremiah 51

“Now I will tell you something very profound, which I have learned after many years. War makes murderers out of otherwise decent people. All wars, and all decent people.” The words belong to Ben Ferencz who holds the title of being “The Last Living Nazi War Crimes Prosecutor.” The implication is terrifying. There is no defense against War Crimes. All conflicts will produce them, no matter how good might be the people involved. For Ben Ferencz, the reality is that a natural outgrowth of the various Nazi War Crimes Tribunals is that they have convicted decent men who did something terrible.

Personally, I struggle with how far we have taken the prosecution of war crimes, especially Nazi War Crimes. There is no doubt that those at the top of the chains of command needed to pay for their crimes. But now, when it comes to Nazi trials that have grown out of World War II, it seems that we have no one left to prosecute other than those who were victimized in a very different way – those who never killed, but stood aside and did nothing as others killed. Men and women who were scared to death that if they spoke up, they would find themselves prisoners of a concentration camp or could even be put to death for their treason of not following orders. Morally, there is no doubt that they too are guilty, but at some point, we have to acknowledge that we may have done the same thing if we were forced to stand in their shoes. And many, at least those among Ben Ferencz’s decent people, pay a price every day for the things that they did not do to help those who were being killed. No court can absolve them or punish them more than they have already been punished. Maybe, for the last of these war criminals, now all in their nineties, it is time to stand up and say, “Yes, you are guilty, but the matter ends here. We are not going to prosecute; we are going to forgive.” It is far easier not to forgive, but easy is not the path that we need to follow.

Violence always begets violence, even when that violence is done to enforce the morality of the society. It has always been that way. God’s words to Jeremiah, “I will stir up a destroyer” is actually a good description of how the world works. Assyria did violence to the world in which she lived. Babylon received the violence and in the end passed it on to Assyria and the rest of the Near East. Babylon’s violence would result in a destroyer being stirred up to react against Babylon, this time it would be a Persian response. Persian violence would stir up a destroyer from Greece, and Greek violence would stir up a destroyer from among the Romans.

In the last century, we have watched the same principle over and over again. German violence in World War I stirred up a destroyer from among the France, the United States and British Commonwealth. The violence of these powers set the stage for Hitler who once again brought German violence to the international arena. German violence stirred up the destroyers of the countries we consider to be the Super-Powers, the United States and the Soviet Union, now Russia. The reaction to these powers has stirred up a destroyer from among the Islamic nations. At some point, we have to be able to stand up as a world community and say enough. There can be no more violence if our fragile planet is to survive. Because even violence of a moral nature just stirs up another destroyer, and that we just can’t afford.

Tomorrow’s Scripture Reading: Lamentations 1

“Announce and proclaim among the nations, lift up a banner and proclaim it; keep nothing back, but say, ‘Babylon will be captured; Bel will be put to shame, Marduk filled with terror. Her images will be put to shame and her idols filled with terror.’ – Jeremiah 50:2

Today’s Scripture Reading (May 15, 2017): Jeremiah 50

In ancient times, the war on earth was really a battle between the gods. The belief was that if your god is strong enough, then he (or she, but in ancient times most often he) will not allow your forces to be defeated. The people fought and died in the wars between nations, but it was the strength of the gods that was on trial.

So the plea Judah was often a cry for the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to stand up and defend his honor by helping his people to win their battles with the nations. Often, God responded. It was God who divided the Red Sea in the time of Moses, allowing the people of Israel to escape across dry land while drowning the Egyptian army that trailed behind. Yahweh won over the gods of Egypt. God stood beside David throughout his reign, maintaining the secure borders of the King in spite of David’s weaknesses, and winning a victory over the gods of the nations who surrounded Israel. During the reign of Hezekiah, God miraculously defended the city of Jerusalem against the Assyrian Empire’s siege of the city and the power of the gods of Assyria. All of this was evidence of the strength of Yahweh, the God of Israel and Judah.

But, by the same measure, the loss of Jerusalem at the hand of Babylonians would have been interpreted as a weakness of God. Yahweh did not measure up to Marduk, the national God of Babylon. Therefore, it was Marduk’s strength that allowed for the victory of Babylon over the forces of Yahweh. This was definitely the belief of Nebuchadnezzar as he advanced his empire. He even named his son Amel-Marduk in honor of Babylon’s god. The Marduk and Bel mentioned in this passage are actually different names for the same god. Marduk was identified with Jupiter among the planets and was addressed as the King of heaven and earth.”

In Judah, the loss of Jerusalem forced the people, and the prophets, to begin to search for another answer. The most common response was that Yahweh had temporarily relinquished control of Judah and Jerusalem in an attempt to get the attention of his people. Nebuchadnezzar had been a tool of God used for that purpose. But there was no doubt that the situation that Judah was experiencing was temporary. Yahweh had a plan, even if the exiles did not understand that plan.

Jeremiah’s prophecy is simple. Yahweh may have allowed for the defeat of Judah, but it was not because of the vast power of Marduk (or Bel). The god of Babylon had no power over the God of Judah. The time was coming, and it was not far off, when the house of Nebuchadnezzar would fall. To make his point, according to James Burton Coffman, Jeremiah uses a word here for an idol that is a favorite of Jeremiah’s contemporary, Ezekiel. Literally, Jeremiah calls the idols of Marduk “balls of dung.” The implication is obvious. Don’t depend on excrement with your destiny. Excrement will always fail you in the end.

Nebuchadnezzar’s Empire did not last long after the King’s death. Nabopolassar took Babylon away from the Assyrians. Nebuchadnezzar II, the son of Nabopolassar, made the city-state into an empire. Amel- Marduk, the son of Nebuchadnezzar II, reigned two short years after the death of his father before he was murdered, and then kingship went to those who were not descended from Nabopolassar and Nebuchadnezzar. And by 539 B.C.E, just under fifty years after the fall of Jerusalem, the Babylonian Empire came to a halt – Bel was put to shame, and Marduk was filled with terror.

Tomorrow’s Scripture Reading: Jeremiah 51

There on the poplars we hung our harps … - Psalm 137:2

Today’s Scripture Reading (May 14, 2017): Psalm 137

Don McLean has long stayed out of the interpretation game when it comes to his classic hit “American Pie.” While other have found the seed of many post-World War II events hidden within the words of the song, McLean has maintained his dignified silence with what his creation might have meant as he penned the lyrics. It is rumored that when McLean was one asked what the song meant, McLean’s response was “American Pie means that I never have to work again unless I want to.” However, the folk singer has admitted that in writing the song he has exorcised some of the grief that he felt on “the day the music died,” – the February 3, 1959, plane crash that claimed the lives of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and J. P. “The Big Bopper” Richardson. For Don Mclean, the day the music died was the next day, February 4 as the thirteen-year-old McLean attempted to make his rounds delivering the very papers that were telling the story of the plane crash. In the song, the experience is conveyed with the line “February made me shiver with every paper I’d deliver.” McLean dedicated the album “American Pie” to Buddy Holly as an act of remembering the influence that Holly gave to music during his short life (Holly was just 22 on “the day the music died”).

For those of born after “the day the music died,” the song gives us the opportunity to relive the impact that February 3, 1959, had on the world. Through the poetry of McLean, we are given a chance to experience the day that the world learned of the death of the musicians. We didn’t get to experience it first hand, but we get to experience the event through the eyes of Don McLean and the beauty of his poetry.

Psalm 137 offers us a similar experience. The Psalmist describes the utter desolation of what it meant to be torn from your home and forced to move to a foreign land, and it does it with a poetical power that allows us to experience the despair of the ones who were there. We get to weep with these immigrants who wept over 2500 years ago; we feel their emotion and taste their tears.

The NIV translates the word “`arab” as “poplar,” but other translations opt for “willow.” Both are appropriate, the term could equally apply to either, but willow might be the more poetic translation of the word. Willow paints a word picture of a tree that weeps along with the musicians who have gathered underneath it drooping limbs. The musicians hang their instruments on the tree with no intention of playing music. Maybe the wind through the branches of the willow tree could produce a moaning tune that was more appropriate for this place beside the rivers of Babylon than anything that the displaced musicians could try to create. In the days before, their music had filled the temple, but now there was no room for music in their lives. Not here by the rivers of Babylon; not now, after the day that the music had died.   

Tomorrow’s Scripture Reading: Jeremiah 50   

How long, LORD? Will you be angry forever? How long will your jealousy burn like fire? – Psalm 79:5

Today’s Scripture Reading (May 13, 2017): Psalm 79

In her 1969 book, On Death and Dying, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross postulated that there were five stages of grief and loss. The stages she identified were Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally Acceptance. The idea was that whenever we suffer any catastrophic loss, we move through the five stages from beginning to end. It is quite simply the way that we are designed – it is what is supposed to happen to us.

In reading the Bible, we need to be continually reminded that there are human emotions behind the words – and while this is true in all of the books of the Bible, maybe it is particularly the case in the Psalms. This Psalm was probably written somewhere around 586 B.C.E., just after the destruction of the Temple and the fall of Jerusalem. There was a sense of intense loss in the country. And the tone of the Psalm also tells us that the stages of loss had been engaged. The nation had been in denial about the situation in Jerusalem ever since the Babylonian had first come into the city and carried away the best and the brightest that Jerusalem had to offer. But now, looking at the smoke of the buildings that had been burned by their enemies, the people of Jerusalem seemed to have moved quickly from denial into an expression of anger, bargaining and now depression. How long will your anger burn against your children? How long before the relationship can be mended.

Officially this Psalm is labeled as a complaint Psalm – the Psalmist is complaining to God about their situation. And it is part of the typical sequence of loss and pain. Someone once commented to me that we need to be careful in our complaints against God. And I understand the danger, and yet the Bible itself is filled with complaints. And if Elisabeth Kubler-Ross is right and these stages are just the way that we are designed – that these stages are supposed to happen – then I think that God understands that. He understands our stages of grief because he is the one who placed those stages inside of us. God knows our pain better than we do.

So, for the Psalmist, this is great news. It means that the complaint he has in his heart is natural, and, if this is the onset of depression, the poet is just one step away from the final stage – acceptance. And with the arrival of the last stage of loss and grief, he can begin to learn from the situation from which he has now emerged. Acceptance can never be seen as just a realization that this is life and there is nothing that I can do to change it. It is not a reliance on the forces of fate that are beyond our control and tend to lead us toward helplessness. That kind of acceptance can only result in future failure. Acceptance of the situation needs to come with an understanding that we can learn and grow through even adverse circumstances of our lives.

For the Psalmist, the complaint is a result of the feeling of abandonment. But God had never left. And when he arrived at acceptance he would see God and the wealth of things that God had for him – and for his nation. Acceptance may be the last stage – but it isn’t the end. It is then that we really begin to learn and set up the rest of our lives.   

Tomorrow’s Scripture Reading: Psalm 137      

We are given no signs from God; no prophets are left, and none of us knows how long this will be. – Psalm 74:9

Today’s Scripture Reading (May 12, 2017): Psalm 74

According to some, Stephen Hawking has become the father of the modern-day doomsday prophets. Recently, Hawking informed us that we need to find another planet on which to live within the next century. Apparently, that is all the life that he believes that this world has left in it, so it is time for the people of the Earth to make plans to move (raising the stakes for the intended colonization of Mars proposed for the next few decades). For Hawking, either we have passed the point where the planet can be saved, or we are simply unwilling to listen and make the changes necessary to save the Earth. Or, more likely, Hawking’s warning is supposed to be the shock message that will spark us into action and save the world before it is too late.

Unfortunately, we hear words like Hawking’s, usually with a much longer timeline, and routinely ignore them. We trust that something will happen to change the prediction. Science will find a magic pill that will reverse the damage that we have done to our atmosphere long before the air becomes too poisoned for us to breathe, or before climate change creates either a planet full of violent storms or one with a runaway greenhouse effect that has become a hothouse too warm for life (just like science will develop a magic pill that will allow me to lose weight and stay in shape without diet or exercise.) But the reality is that if nothing changes, the day will come when a select few will leave the planet on a new Ark in order to save the human race. And when that time comes, probably more than a hundred years in the future, but maybe not much more, we won’t be able to say that we didn’t hear the message. Our only reaction will be that we refused to listen.

The Psalmist makes some amazing comments in his psalm of lament. He starts by complaining that there were no signs from God, nothing was witnessed that had led the people to believe that this might happen. The scripture record seems to full of exhortations to the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to follow the teachings of God. And all of Judah had watched as the Northern Kingdom had been carried into captivity by Assyria for their disobedience. Surely there were signs from God; signs that had been ignored.

The second surprising comment was that there were no prophets left. But it is likely that, at the time of the writing of the Psalm, Jeremiah was still active in Judah, and Ezekiel was prophesying in either Judah or Babylon. And even if Jeremiah and Ezekiel were gone, they had never listened to the words of the prophets anyway. The prophets spoke and were routinely ignored. Judah had refused to listen to the words that proceeded from the mouths of the prophets.

Such seems to be the fate of prophets of every age. We hear the prophets when they speak words that we want to hear, and we ignore them when their message becomes inconvenient. And it doesn’t matter if the prophet’s names are Jeremiah, Ezekiel, or Stephen Hawking. We just refuse to hear.

Tomorrow’s Scripture Reading: Psalm 79