Psalm 30 is what we call a song of thanksgiving. It is what the Hebrew calls a “new song,” a song that is sung after a person or a people have been delivered by God from crisis, whatever that crisis may be.
Our Jeremiah text this week names one of those crises. An existential crisis for Judah and, particularly, for Jerusalem. Our story opens in the tenth year of King Zedekiah of Judah. Jerusalem is under siege by the king of Babylon. Jeremiah, once again, is imprisoned for harsh and difficult words he has spoken to Zedekiah: they are words of the demise of Jerusalem and its king, both of whom will be taken into exile. We are at the point of death that is coming in many forms.
Our reading is from Chapter 32. Its placement is odd, because surrounding this chapter are chapters from the second part of Jeremiah, what is often called the Book of Comfort. Chapters 30, 31, and 33 are all chapters that promise Israel’s return from exile. Set into these words of restoration is this odd story, a story about a real estate transaction.
We read now from Jeremiah, chapter 32.
Jeremiah received the Lord’s word in the tenth year of Judah’s King Zedekiah, which was the eighteenth year of Nebuchadnezzar’s rule. At that time, the army of the Babylonian king had surrounded Jerusalem, and the prophet Jeremiah was confined to the prison quarters in the palace of Judah’s king. Judah’s King Zedekiah had Jeremiah sent there after questioning him.
Jeremiah said, The Lord’s word came to me: Your cousin Hanamel, Shallum’s son, is on his way to see you; and when he arrives, he will tell you: “Buy my field in Anathoth, for by law you are next in line to purchase it.” And just as the Lord had said, my cousin Hanamel showed up at the prison quarters and told me, “Buy my field in Anathoth in the land of Benjamin, for you are next in line and have a family obligation to purchase it.” Then I was sure this was the Lord’s doing.
So I bought the field in Anathoth from my cousin Hanamel, and weighed out for him seventeen shekels of silver. I signed the deed, sealed it, had it witnessed, and weighed out the silver on the scales. Then I took the deed of purchase—the sealed copy, with its terms and conditions, and the unsealed copy— and gave it to Baruch, Neriah’s son and Mahseiah’s grandson, before my cousin Hanamel and the witnesses named in the deed, as well as before all the Judeans who were present in the prison quarters. I charged Baruch before all of them: “The Lord of heavenly forces, the God of Israel, proclaims: Take these documents—this sealed deed of purchase along with the unsealed one—and put them into a clay container so they will last a long time. The Lord of heavenly forces, the God of Israel, proclaims: Houses, fields, and vineyards will again be bought in this land.”
Jeremiah has received a word from Yahweh, from God. "Your cousin, Hanamel, will come to you in prison and offer you the opportunity to purchase a piece of property.” Jeremiah has first dibs on this property. He has the right to “redeem” this family property according to Jewish law that provides for the next of kin to buy back property that is in danger of being lost to debt. Jeremiah is that next of kin.
When his cousin arrives, Jeremiah is now sure that this is the work of God. The story continues with surprising technical details of that transaction. Jeremiah prepares the deed, with the help of his personal secretary and scribe, Baruch. He gathers the necessary witnesses for the transaction. Then, Jeremiah weighs out the money, seventeen shekels of silver. He signs the deed, seals it, gets witnesses, and, again, weighs the money on scales. He takes the sealed deed of purchase that contains the terms of the agreement and gives it to Baruch in the presence of his cousin, charging Baruch with putting them into a clay container - the safest of places - so that they will last a long, long time.
Like the witnesses to this transaction, we are likely questioning in our thoughts the wisdom of investing in land which, at that very moment, is being besieged and destroyed by a large foreign power. It makes no sense. As if Jeremiah can read their thoughts, and ours, he responds with a word of hope. Someday, he says...someday, there will again be fields and houses and vineyards on this land.
It’s an act of hope. A symbolic act of hope that proclaim Jeremiah’s words through action. At this worst moment in Judah’s life, Jeremiah’s act of hope - his land deal - shows that there will be a future. A hopeful future for God’s people. It is an action taken in the face of what seems impossible. Proclaiming in the thick of captivity that there will be life again in the land of Judah. That not only will Jeremiah survive, but the land will, too.
We’re a lot like Jeremiah, I think. As I’ve been reflecting back over these past 15 months, I’ve been thinking about similar acts of hope that I’ve engaged in myself or seen others engage in. Planting a garden in the midst of a pandemic is an act of hope. Sewing masks for healthcare workers is an act of hope. Birthday parades are acts of hope. Assembly and delivering gift baskets to nursing home residents, isolated from their families, is an act of hope. Recognizing and cheering for frontline workers is an act of hope. Creatively changing an entire curriculum to teach online is an act of hope. Acts of kindness, of volunteering, of charitable giving are all acts of hope. Learning a new way of gathering online is an act of hope. Joining a protest for change is an act of hope. Walking in a Pride parade is an act of hope.
All of these acts that we witnessed and, perhaps, engaged in ourselves are symbolic actions that say that no matter how hard and difficult things are, no matter how important it is that we sit in our grief, no matter our need to process our grief and pain in a healthy way, we believe the God will bring us through this. And that God will not only bring us through this, but that God will be us to a new day. To a new way of being.
This is what Psalm 30 speaks to. This song of thanksgiving. Or what Brueggemann calls psalms of reorientation, or new orientation. It bears witness to the surprising gift of new life when none had been expected. It recognizes that we have made it through the storm and reached a new place. Yet, having reached this new place, there is no going back to what was before. That we can no longer pretend that all will always be well and that all is as it should be. And yet, that even in the midst of our Saturday - as we have sat for a very long time in Saturday - we have not lost the hope that despair will not win out. And that evil does not have the last word.
This is what Jeremiah’s act of hope proclaims. This is of what Psalm 30 sings. That those who have walked the darkest valleys, who have stood in the midst of shaking mountains, who have experienced life when the bottom drops out, will, with creation, in time experience new life and grace. Together. As God’s beloved people.
This is our hope. This is God’s promise. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment