There is smoke. People are running. Weeping rises in the air matching the upward flow of dust. An uneasy tension permeates the very core of a person’s body seeping deep within it. Questions spew forth like a summer rainstorm from every person.
What will happen next? Where is a brother, father, sister, wife, mother, aunt, uncle, cousin, grandmother, grandfather? How could this have happened to us? How will we live? How will we know what to do? Will I ever feel safe again? Where is God?
Underlying the questions are the emotions washing over each person like a spring flood in a dry riverbed. Anger, fear, sadness, despair, abandonment, vulnerability, uncertainty, uneasiness, loneliness, denial, bewilderment, disorientation.
The weeping, the questions, the dust, and the emotions congeal together into the loud cry of lament, “How lonely sits the city that once was full of people! How like a widow she has become, she that was great among the nations! She that was a princess among the provinces. She weeps bitterly in the night. She has no one to comfort her. Judah has gone into exile with suffering and hard servitude. My soul is bereft of peace. I have forgotten what happiness is, so I say gone is my glory.”
In 587 BCE Jerusalem was reduced to rubble and ashes. The Temple was destroyed, and all the royal family, the high government officials, priests, and craftspeople were led off as prisoners by the Babylonian army, walking naked for the arduous journey to Babylon. It will become the Hebrew trail of tears. Their prayers in psalms of lament tell later generations of their suffering. Laments that cry out, “Why have you forgotten us completely? My groans are many and my heart is faint.”
Psalms that tell us the story, “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung up our harps. For there, our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”
Their homes are gone. Their land is gone. The Temple is gone. The priests are gone. No longer will they bring sacrifices to the Temple. No longer will Passover be celebrated as it was. Gone are most of the external symbols that gave them identity and defined them as a people. And worst of all the Babylonians think it is self-evident that their god is stronger and more powerful than the Lord. After all, it is the victors who write history, not the vanquished. Israelites knew how the world was supposed to work, how their life was oriented in a direction they understood, lived, found comfortable and meaningful. But not now.
We know how they feel, don’t we? Their plight, their tears, questions, and emotions are all familiar to us because we too have felt them in some way. We have felt dazed, angry, abandoned, vulnerable, scared, uncertain, uneasiness, loneliness, and bewilderment. Whether it was the aftermath of 9/11, a train wreck, an explosion, a mass murder in a school or synagogue, a car wreck, or the Jan.6 riot at the Capitol. We have all experienced loss whether a friendship breaking apart, moving to a different place, disease robbing us of the ability to do that one thing we have a passion to do, or even the death of a father, mother, brother, sister, husband, or wife. Some of you remember when Kodak, Xerox, Bausch and Lomb, Carrier Corp, or other major manufacturers were all doing great. I am sure many of you remember when your church sanctuary was filled with worshippers on Sunday mornings. When there was an Adult Choir, a Junior Choir, and a children’s choir.
Indeed, I suspect some of you might be right this minute experiencing some disorientation in your life. You, too, may be asking how did this happen? Why did this happen to me? What do I do now?
I don’t know about you, but when I have those questions, then I recall the Israelites’ situation and the one question that comes to my mind is, “What did the Israelites do at this moment of exile?” What made it possible for them to cope in a strange, foreign place?
Well, strangely enough the answer dwells in the psalm Jesus quotes while he is dying on the cross and being mocked and derided by the crowds of people. Rather than simply quote the psalm to you I want you to please open your bibles to Psalm 22. Look at how Psalm 22 begins as a lament, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me.” As you read the rest of the psalm, you notice the intensity and the anguish of the lament. Then, we get to verses twenty-one. “Save me from the mouth of the lion,” it begins. Then, notice verse twenty-two we hear the psalmist, “I will tell of thy name to my brethren, in the midst of the congregation I will praise thee.”
Something has happened between verse twenty-one and verse twenty-two. Notice the space between the two verses because what changes the psalmist’s lament to praise, and thanksgiving happens right there. There in that space God acts. There in that space is where God does whatever God might do to cause a transformation, a healing in the psalmist. A healing that restores life to the psalmist as God promised to do for the people Israel. God has heard the palmist’s lament and God acts. We don’t see what God did. Nor, does the psalmist ever say exactly what God did or when God did it. The mystery of all of that is left as a mystery because the what’s and the when’s are not important. What is important is that this space is where faith resides. Where faith leads to hope and hope leads to peace.
This isn’t the faith that says put a smile on your face and act as if everything is simply fine because, “I have my Jesus.”
Nor can faith be treated as a commodity that can be increased or decreased. That was Jesus’ lesson to his disciples when they cried out to him, “Increase our faith!” They thought Jesus’ demand for radical forgiveness was beyond their ability because their faith was quantifiably too small. So, they cry out to him, “Increase our faith!” As if they were near empty vessels that Jesus could just pour faith into. Like one would pour water into a pot or a pan. But Jesus says your faith could be the size of a tiny mustard seed and it would be enough to transplant an oak tree into the sea. You see, faith is not about quantity.
Faith is a gift from God in the same way grace is gift from God. Faith does not spring up out of the person as intellectual acceptance or by some act that a person does, but it is a response to what God has done, is doing and promises to be doing throughout people’s lives.
As Rev. Robert McAfee Brown, pastor and theologian explains, “the gospel does not say ‘Trust God and God will love you,’ the gospel says, ‘God already loves you, so trust God.” Indeed, our word faith comes from the Hebrew word “amn” and the Greek word “pistis” both meaning trust, reliability, loyalty, and obedience. Faith says we can trust God because we know God always keeps the promises God makes. Faith says we can rely on God because we know God does not abandon us in times of sorrow or trial but is present with us always. Faith says we can do our best to be loyal and obedient to God and God’s way of being persons in community because we know God’s love is steadfast; it cannot ever be lost, diminished, or destroyed.
It is faith, in God’s steadfast love and faithfulness that empowers the Israelites during exile to truthfully name all their losses aloud, to say aloud all their questions, and all the emotions they experience, so these questions and emotions could be publicly faced in all the depth of their pain as an act of faith. Only a people who expect God to be listening can do this. Only a people who expect God to act for their well-being as God promises to do can do such a thing. Because it is only by facing the reality of their pain, their wounds, and their sorrow in lament, that the Israelites will find solace, comfort, healing, and hope.
Hope that rises out of the depths of lament heated by faith that asserts “tears may come in the night, but joy comes in the morning,” boiling over in praise to God as the Israelites creatively reconstruct their reality by defiantly asserting that reality, is not as it appears to be. Defiantly asserting that those who are in positions of power are not powerful at all. Defiantly asserting that today they will live their new future grounded in God’s promises of restoration spoken through the prophet Isaiah, “but be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating. For I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy and its people as a delight. I will rejoice in Jerusalem and delight in my people; no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it or the cry of distress.”
Hope captured by the writer of Lamentations, “O Lord, my suffering and my homelessness is bitter and filled with sorrow. Still, when I remember your love for me and remember your love never ceases and we can never be cut off from you, O Lord, hope calms me. For I know each morning is a new day to experience the mercy of the Lord. You, O Lord are faithful beyond measure. I will hope in the Lord, waiting patiently for salvation, for the saving grace of the Lord to be given to me, to be showered upon me.”
This is a faith that trusts and relies exclusively on God in the total and complete surrendering of the Israelites lives to God. Trusting God’s way of living together in community will equip the Israelites to creatively live in this foreign land in a new way. They may no longer be able to worship in the Temple, but they can still worship God. They may no longer celebrate Passover in the exact same way as before, but they can still celebrate Passover. God is still with them showing them a way, even if it is distinctively different than the way they lived in Judah.
This was good news for the exiled Israelites. It is the good news Paul spoke about in his letter to Timothy when he wrote about being thankful for Timothy. For Timothy’s distinctive personal being and friendship, for being a co-worker in ministry, for his unfeigned faith, and for the personal gifts of ministry given this young man. These gifts are lifted by Paul in a prayer of gratitude. Gratitude for Timothy’s mother and grandmother who nurtured him and his faith in the same way Paul’s family nurtured him in his faith, which opened him to Christ and the new life of hope leading to peace that Christ brings into the world. Paul is also grateful to God for his own apostolic calling and the people who bring him food, necessities, and companionship amid his suffering in a Roman prison. Theologian and professor Cornel West echoed this same gratitude when he said at the Unitarian Universalist Association General Assembly, “We do create ourselves, we did not give ourselves language. We did not fall from the sky. We came out of a faith tradition. I am here because somebody loved me, somebody cared for me, somebody was attentive to me and taught me how to live.”
Acknowledging and being grateful for our faith and the tradition of being committed to love-love for God and love for neighbor- no matter what the circumstances of our lives are, means saying yes, we did not fall out of the sky. We are here because somebody loved us, somebody cared for us, somebody was attentive to us and taught us how to live faith-filled lives empowering us to be the love letters from those earlier generations on whose shoulders we stand to the younger generations of our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren because we want them to know that somebody loves them, somebody cares about them and somebody is being attentive to them and wants them to know how to live faith-filled lives of integrity, courage and peace. This is what creating an environment where God’s gift of faith and grace through Christ can be received is all about. You see faith cannot be taught, but what can be taught is the way faith empowers us to tell the truth-to have integrity, naming truthfully our losses and speaking aloud our questions and emotions right here in our worship through our prayers and our songs.
What can be taught is how faith empowers us to turn our prayers and songs of lamentation into hope. Hope freeing us to creatively see our world in a new way. Hope freeing us to live our lives in a new and distinctively unique way as we respond with the complete surrendering and commitment of our lives to God in Jesus Christ. Hope freeing us to live God’s peace.