This is a really depressing passage, isn’t it, especially the first part. You can certainly see why this book of the Bible was called Lamentations. It was written by Jeremiah after the fall of Jerusalem. Our hearts really have to go out to him, don’t they? He spent forty years, his entire adult life really, preaching and pleading with the people of Judah to repent. During that time he was at best ignored and disparaged, and at worst threatened with grievous bodily injury both by his family and by the king. Talk about a hostile work environment! No wonder he begged God to let him off the hook.
But God didn’t accept his resignation. And not only that, he told Jeremiah, in essence, to quit whining and pull up his socks because things were only going to get worse. “If you have raced with foot-runners and they have wearied you,” says YHWH, “how will you compete with horses? And if in a safe land you fall down, how will you fare in the thickets of the Jordan?” [Jer 12:5] So Jeremiah says in essence “Yes sir, how high, sir?” and gets back to work. And what was Jeremiah’s reward for his faithful service?
The payoff for forty years of total dedication was to watch his city - God’s city - the beautiful temple, the rich buildings and strong walls, smashed into rubble; and the people - including some no doubt altogether innocent ones - dying of hunger or killed by soldiers or sold into slavery.
So he wept. Wouldn’t you? It doesn’t seem fair. Righteous and faithful Jeremiah should have died at a ripe old age, prosperous and at peace, surrounded by admiring followers, his life’s work vindicated at last. But no. At this lowest moment of Jeremiah’s career - lower even, I think, than when he was tossed into a dry well to starve to death - not even his friends listened to him anymore. He told them to stay in Jerusalem, even destroyed as it was. He told them, “Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel... if you will only remain in this land, then I will build you up and not pull you down; I will plant you and not pluck you up.” [Je 42:10] But they didn’t believe him. They bundled Jeremiah up and carried him off to Egypt, where they vanished into the mists of history. . .
Not only did he have to watch his city and his people destroyed because of their disobedience, he wasn’t even granted the privilege of remaining obedient himself. Jeremiah certainly had reason to lament. But then, so do we.
Maybe not on the same scale as Jeremiah, but no life comes without losses. We who are here today are suffering the loss of 150 years of history, and each one of us is saying farewell, in a way, to his or her own particular memories of this place, this community. We have also each experienced other, more personal and individual losses, haven’t we? A spouse, a child, a parent, a friend, a home, a dream? Loss is not a stranger to us. And the older we are, the more losses we have. Because life works like that.
“Life is hard, and then you die.” How many of you have seen that bumper sticker? Or maybe a slightly ruder version?
It’s hard to argue with. Life is hard, and we all do die. And in the middle of grief it is sometimes very hard to believe that there is anything beyond the present pain.
We all deal with loss in different ways. Most cultures have rituals that help with the loss caused by death, from the Jewish custom of sitting shiva to the Victorian year-long black mourning garb to the rowdy Irish wake. These are all attempts to manage the emotions that come with loss. We have had recourse to our own rituals as we have dealt with losses over the last few years. We have said goodbye to young and old, to friends and relatives who have ailed for years and to others for whom the call came more suddenly. And here, today, we face a particularly poignant kind of loss, as we close our doors for the last time. We find comfort by gathering in worship and prayer and remembrance with family and friends, but nothing can erase the loss itself.
Unfortunately, our American culture is uncomfortable with the very idea of grief. We’re supposed to all be happy and healthy and prosperous all the time, aren’t we? We’re entitled. And if something bad happens, a lot of people simply don’t know how to handle it. You may have found, after suffering a loss, that people avoid you because they don’t know what to say. Or you may avoid people yourself, because you feel you’re lousy company. Or you try to be upbeat and cheerful, because after all we’re Christians, right, and Christians should be optimistic and always look on the bright side of things and be thankful at all times.
But I think that one of the reasons that the book of Lamentations is given to us is to show us that grief is okay. Yes - it tells us the details of the aftermath of the siege and fall of Jerusalem - but it also tells us how Jeremiah responded to it. And whether or not we ever experience anything remotely like the fall of a city, we will all experience loss and grief, and it is helpful to have a model to guide us through the darkness. Like all of our other strong emotion grief is no stranger to God, and it is acceptable to him. And not only does God demonstrate through Lamentations that grief is acceptable, he shows us how to handle it.
What do I mean by that?
Well, look at today’s text again.
"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 has become a vassal. She weeps bitterly in the night, with tears on her cheeks; among all her lovers she has no one to comfort her; all her friends have dealt treacherously with her, they have become her enemies. Judah has gone into exile with suffering and hard servitude; she lives now among the nations, and finds no resting place; her pursuers have all overtaken her in the midst of her distress. The roads to Zion mourn, for no one comes to the festivals; all her gates are desolate, her priests groan; her young girls grieve, and her lot is bitter."
Jeremiah recites the glories of the destroyed city, the shattered dream, in beautiful and powerful language he brings the contrast between then and now vividly and poignantly to light. He seeks to find ways to express the greatness, the impact of the loss, because in expressing it he finds release. And he goes on, and on, and on, in verse after verse after verse, finding new and ever more wrenching descriptions to hammer home the reality of the loss. In v. 12 he demands, “Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Look and see if there is any sorrow like my sorrow, which was brought upon me, which the LORD inflicted on the day of his fierce anger.”
It is not only acceptable, it is right to mourn out loud when something that is precious is lost or destroyed. God invites us to pour it out, in as much and as vivid detail as we need.
But then he calls us to a place beyond the pain. When you are absolutely battered into numbness by the seeming unending litany of pain, look what happens in chapter 3. Listen to where Jeremiah goes next:
"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; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 'The LORD is my portion,' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in him.' The LORD is good to those who wait for him, to the soul that seeks him." [Je 3:21-26]
You recognize those words, don’t you? It is one of the church’s favorite hymns, for good reason. Jeremiah gives us words for those times when we cannot find our own.
But how could Jeremiah himself find those words, that hope, indeed that certainty, into the center of so overwhelming a loss? We know the answer to that. Jeremiah proves what Paul will say some six hundred years later in his second letter to the Corinthians: “Blessed be... the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God. [2 Cor 1:3-4]
In Jeremiah’s words, God gives us three steps to take, steps that will bring us out of the dark, turbulent waters of sorrow and into a harbor where healing can begin and hope can once more take root.
The first step is to remember. Remember what God has given us. Rejoice in the memories, rejoice in the goodness, the richness, the joy. And we did that. Our 150th anniversary party honored our past, reminded us of our history of service, and sealed to us our inheritance. These treasures cannot be taken away, no matter where we go.
The second step is to start every day new, to begin to practice looking forward to what God is going to do, rather than backward to what God has done. When you start looking for evidence of God’s grace and mercy, you will find it, and your heart will be comforted. “His mercies ... are new every morning.”
And the third step is to remember that whatever you have lost, you still have the most important thing of all, and that is God, the Father and the Son and the Spirit. Remember that God is the God of love, and life, who created the whole earth out of nothing. “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.” Cannot he then create life even in your desert? Jeremiah knew that he had been chosen and called by God, and that God would never abandon him, regardless of the circumstances. “The LORD is my portion. . . therefore I will hope in him.” Jesus chose us and called us, and promised never to leave us. Jesus is our portion, and hope placed in him will never fail. Grieve out loud. But then go on.
Remember.
Look forward.
Move closer to Jesus.
Because death is hard. But then you live.
