God's On the Move: Nothing Can Separate (Psalm 137:1-4, Lamentations 3:19-24, Jeremiah 29:11-14)11/24/2019
Sermon by Rev. Deborah Hannay Sunoo
A few weeks ago, we read about King Solomon’s dedication of the temple in Jerusalem and how careful he was to clarify: just because God now had a house didn’t mean that physical structure could actually contain God. God was everywhere, not stuck in a temple no matter how grand it may have been. God was dynamic, not static. God remained on the move. I noted briefly how important it would be for Israel to remember this when the temple was destroyed. And today we arrive at that part of the story. Years after the Exodus and the entry into the land of Canaan, years after the rise of the united monarchy and its eventual demise into two separate kingdoms, came the period of the Exile. First the Assyrian Empire conquered the North; later the Babylonians conquered the South. The temple in Jerusalem was destroyed, and the people were led away to a foreign land. The early verses of Psalm 137 convey something of the pain felt by those who’d been captured and taken far from home. “By the rivers of Babylon – there we sat down and … wept, when we remembered Zion” (Zion being another word for Jerusalem, their capital city and the city where the temple had been). “How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” (Psalm 137:1, 4) [Incidentally the concluding verses of Psalm 137, which we didn’t read aloud this morning, demonstrate the depth of their pain in a different way, expressing a desire for fierce revenge, even to the point of lashing out at the captors’ children. They didn’t do so, of course. But that’s how a songwriter in exile felt when that psalm was composed. Those final verses of Psalm 137 are not ones any of us are proud of, or particularly want to highlight. But they are there, and whatever else may be said, they certainly convey the anguish of a people treated cruelly and taken far from home.] If you count the fall of both the northern and southern kingdoms, the exilic period of Israel’s history lasted from 722 to 539 BC, in other words, over 180 years. As giant empires came and went in that part of the world, it wasn’t until the Persians seized power from the Babylonians that King Cyrus of Persia finally issued an edict allowing the exiles to return home. To begin the long process of rebuilding - their nation, their temple, their lives. 180 years? That means whole generations had been born, lived, and died in exile. I’m sure they would have continued to hear stories about home, or the place their great grandparents may have known as home, but after a while the exiles themselves only knew the place to which their people had been taken against their will many years earlier. Huge swaths of the Old Testament are actually written in and about this period of exile. Pre-exilic prophets warn of powerful enemies taking over control of Israel and taking the people away. The book of Lamentations conveys the people’s heartbreak once there. Prophets like Jeremiah speak both before and during exile, offering words of warning, then words of comfort. The books of Daniel and Esther find their settings in this period. And later books like Ezra and Nehemiah speak of return to the land of Israel, and a period of restoration and rebuilding following exile. While this period of Israel’s history may not be spoken about very often in churches, Old Testament theologian Walter Brueggemann has written extensively about exile. He refers to 587 BC (when Jerusalem and its temple were destroyed) as the “9/11 of the Old Testament,” the moment when Israel became utterly disoriented, for “such a thing should not happen.”[1] Brueggemann shows how the prophetic … response to that crisis was truth-telling in the face of ideology, grief in the face of denial, and hope in the face of despair. He argues that the same … responses are urgently required from us now if we are to escape the … denial and despair in our own setting.[2] There is an important conversation to be had there, and perhaps another day we’ll have it. But after the powerful presentation we heard last Sunday from Chitra Hanstad of World Relief about modern day refugees, it seems irresponsible somehow to read texts of exile as if they’d only have significance in a broader, more symbolic sense for privileged, sheltered folk like us. In the past I’ve primarily heard each of today’s Scripture texts as if it’s been directed to my own spiritual life, but this week, as I read again God’s promise through the prophet Jeremiah, I found myself wondering not just what these words could mean to me, but what they could mean to parents raising their children in a Syrian refugee camp: “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope… when you call upon me and come to me and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me.” (Jeremiah 29:11-13) I found myself thinking about frightened teen and preteen girls caught in the sex trafficking trade, sometimes whole continents away from home. What meaning would they find in the opening lines of Psalm 137? “By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept, as we remembered Zion. How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” And as I re-read those words from the book of Lamentations, I wondered how families fleeing violence and risking their lives to get away from the only places on earth they’ve ever known, how they must hear words like these: “The thought of my affliction and my homelessness is wormwood and gall! My soul continually thinks of it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end.” (Lamentations 3:19-24) I guess you could say I’ve been convicted this week by how easy it is as a modern-day interpreter of Scripture in a comfortable context to assume that for these texts to resonate at all, they have to resonate with me in my own situation. That if I haven’t personally lived what they convey, biblical texts like these must be read figuratively. I don’t doubt for a minute God can – and does - speak to us in those kinds of ways. But again, after hearing those stories last week of contemporary refugees far from home? …That some of us can only understand biblical texts of exile metaphorically doesn’t mean they don’t have literal significance. I don’t know how many of you have ever seen the movie, “The Joy Luck Club?” It’s been quite a long time since it came out, but if you saw it back in the day, or perhaps read the book, you may remember a scene in which an incredibly long line of refugees is fleeing their homes in mainland China many years ago. In a great rush they’ve packed everything they can fit either into small carts they can pull along with them, or into crates and bags and trunks. But as the march progresses, we begin to see objects discarded along the side of the road. First the heavier trunks, items of furniture, pots and pans that seemed well worth bringing when they set out, but are simply too heavy to carry miles down the road. And as they become more and more exhausted, we begin to see increasingly more precious possessions discarded too – boxes of photographs, beautiful heirlooms, children’s toys. The particular characters in the movie are fictional, but historical scenes like this have played themselves out frighteningly often. How many people have been forced to flee their homes, threatened with unspeakable dangers if they remained behind? How many have had to decide what was worth bringing with them, and what wasn’t? How many have had to discard even those things they treasured most, simply in order to save their lives? Back at home, they would have never imagined parting with such treasures. But many miles into a terrifying journey? They’re dumped in a trash heap. I’d read the book before I saw the movie, so I thought I was well prepared for scenes like that one in “The Joy Luck Club.” But I guess there was something about seeing it on screen that was different than seeing it in my mind’s eye. Because suddenly, as I watched that long line of refugees escaping on foot, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Those were my in-laws up there on the screen. Their story began in North Korea, rather than in China, but the rest was shockingly similar to family stories I’d been told. Almost nothing made it out of North Korea with them, because when your life is on the line, you don’t have the luxury of a long packing list. My mother in law was one of the young children being carried as they left. Had she not escaped with her family, had they not managed to make a new life for themselves in South Korea, and later here in the States, I never would have met my husband, or had my own daughters. Needless to say, I quickly ran out of Kleenex! We hear the word “refugee” so often these days, it’s easy to forget the individual lives represented by that word. We’re talking about homes full of memories needing to be left behind, and left in a hurry. We’re talking about small children, like my own mother in law back in the day, being carried through the night by frantic parents trying to save their lives. Apparently there are something like 25 million people around the world who find themselves – right now, today – in these kinds of situations. 25 million people. As a church we’ll be considering over the coming months what we might offer in the way of friendship and support to those who make it as far as our own Seattle area. How might we come alongside them after those long journeys to support them and to shower them with God’s love? Our sermon title this morning comes from the New Testament letter to the Romans but it conveys a biblical truth we’ve been talking about all fall as we’ve surveyed Old Testament texts. “For I am convinced,” says the apostle Paul, “that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God.” (Romans 8:38-39) Are there experiences that can cause us to feel God is distant? Certainly there are. Far too many. But has God ever actually abandoned God’s children? Never. Not in captivity in Egypt. Not in the Wilderness. Not at the height of Empire. Not in the agony of Exile. Our song of response this morning conveys that same promise. It’s a song that has been meaningful to some of us personally in difficult times. You may be living through such a season now, and if so, I pray you receive the love and comfort God is sending your way through its words. At the same time, if we’re able, I also want to invite us this morning to hear its message from God directed to others living in far different situations than we’ll ever know. Try to imagine its lyrics being heard in places of danger requiring parents to flee in the night with their children. Try to imagine these words being heard in refugee camps and detention centers from which it can take years to emerge, or even in first apartments here in the US for families forced to leave all they’ve known and to start over in a strange new land. How might God be singing these words right now to God’s precious children in exile? How might we sing along? "I Will Come to You" by David Haas. I will come to you in the silence I will lift you from all your fear You will hear My voice I claim you as My choice Be still, and know I am near I am hope for all who are hopeless I am eyes for all who long to see In the shadows of the night, I will be your light Come and rest in Me Do not be afraid, I am with you I have called you each by name Come and follow Me I will bring you home I love you and you are mine. I am strength for all the despairing Healing for the ones who dwell in shame All the blind will see, the lame will all run free And all will know My name. Do not be afraid, I am with you I have called you each by name Come and follow Me I will bring you home I love you and you are mine. I am the Word that leads all to freedom I am the peace the world cannot give I will call your name, embracing all your pain Stand up, now, walk, and live. Do not be afraid, I am with you I have called you each by name Come and follow Me I will bring you home I love you and you are mine. ------------- [1] Walter Brueggemann as cited by Pete Enns in “Walter Brueggemann and Scripture as Counter-Imagination to the Empires of Man” [2] See for instance Reality, Grief, Hope: Three Urgent Prophetic Tasks. Comments are closed.
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