‘These
are the words of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to
the remaining elders among the exiles, and to the priests, the prophets, and
all the people, whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to
Babylon.
‘Thus
says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent
into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant
gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take
wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear
sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare
of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its
behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.’
Jeremiah
29:1, 4-7
These
are the words. Words that are both heavy on the heart, and laden with grace.
A
little history. Empires rise and empires fall. The Neo-Babylonians defeated the
Neo-Assyrians. Alarmed by this shift in power, the Egyptians moved north to support
their Assyrian allies. To do so, they had to pass through the territory of
Judah. King Josiah rode out to turn them back and was killed in battle. His
younger son, Jehoahaz, succeed him; but just three months later the pharaoh, Neco
II, on his way home from war, deposed Jehoahaz, carrying him off captive to
Egypt and appointing his older brother Jehoiakim king in Jerusalem in his
place. So, when the Babylonians went on to defeat the Egyptians, Nebuchadnezzar
II laid Jerusalem to siege. To save the city, Jehoiakim switched allegiances.
Even so, Nebuchadnezzar extracted a hefty tribute, including taking members of
the royal family and court hostage in Babylon. The Babylonians tried to build
on their victory over the Egyptians in battle, attempting to press on to take Egypt
itself, but they were unsuccessful in their ambitions. Their failure to
capitalise undermined their control in the region, and Jehoiakim, ever the politician,
switched sides again, hoping that the Egyptians might rid him of Babylonian
interference. Instead, Nebuchadnezzar, incensed at losing tribute income, laid
siege to Jerusalem again. Jehoiakim died and was succeeded by his son Jeconiah.
Within three months, Jerusalem had fallen. The Babylonians carried anyone who
might resource an insurgence—including influential leaders and those who could
make weapons—off into exile and put Jeconiah’s uncle on the throne, a puppet
king to whom they gave the name Zedekiah.
A
decade later, Zedekiah made an alliance with the pharaoh, Hophra, and revolted
against Babylonian rule. Nebuchadnezzar laid siege to Jerusalem yet again. This
time the city held out for thirty months before falling, at which point
Nebuchadnezzar had Zedekiah’s sons killed in front of him, before gouging out
his eyes and carrying him off to captivity in Babylon. As for Jerusalem, the
city was burnt to the ground, and Solomon’s Temple destroyed.
Jeremiah 29
is set soon after Jeconiah and the first wave of exiles are carried off to
Babylon. As Zedekiah takes up office (chapter 28) a certain self-styled prophet,
Hananiah, proclaims that this was a temporary setback and that the exiles would
return within two years, restored by the Lord of hosts, who would liberate them
from the Babylonians. This message fuels hope among both the citizens of
Jerusalem and the newly captive exiles in Babylon. But Jeremiah counters that
Hananiah is a false prophet, holding out false hope. Hananiah dies, thus shown
to be under the Lord’s judgement. Jeremiah writes to the exiles, telling them
that their captivity will be a lengthy one, several generations long.
Therefore, they must put down roots that will sustain them. Crucially, they
must also intercede to the Lord on behalf of their Babylonian overlords, for
their own welfare is now tied to the welfare of their enemies.
These
are the words. Words that are both heavy on the heart, and laden with grace.
Jeremiah’s
advice, originating in the Lord of angel armies and God of the descendants of
Israel—who wrestled a full night with an angel of the Lord, and thereafter
walked with a limp—is deeply practical, and ordered for fruitfulness. Build
houses and live in them. Plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and
have children, to the third generation—for when the Lord places constraint
(curses) on people in judgement for abandoning the covenant, places limits on
the damage they can cause, he does so to the third generation. In any event,
all three actions—build, plant, marry—participate in the work of making the
community complete or sound: live, eat, multiply. This, for the Babylonians as
well as for the Jews. And as it turned out, the Jewish community does this so
well that when, a long time later, Babylon falls to the Persian empire and
Cyrus permits the Jews to return to Judah, many freely choose not to go.
Babylon is home now. Their God is not tied to Jerusalem but is Lord of all the
earth.
These
are the words. Words that are both heavy on the heart, and laden with grace.
What
might these words have to say to us in our day?
What
might it look like for us to accept that our present state, a church exiled
from being the heart of our communities, is not a passing moment but our future
for several generations?
What
do we need to let go of? (Expect to have to wrestle with this question.)
Where
do we need to focus our energy? (Expect to have to wrestle with this question,
too.)
What
does building houses and planting gardens and marrying look like here, now?
What
does ‘live,’ and ‘eat,’ and ‘raise children’ look like, as the way we nurture a
community that is healthy and whole, that embodies welfare?
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