Lamentations 1:1-6
Lamentations is hardly a book of joy. The title itself gives away the focus of what the author intends. Throughout a sequence of five lyric poems, the destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians in 586 BC is grieved. This destruction can be read about in 2 Kings 25:8-11. Here, it’s lamented. And yet through some of the most violent and brutal writing in the Scriptures, the book manifests a stubborn, tenacious hold on life and the belief that God is still on the side of the faithful.
From an emotional standpoint, Lamentations is spontaneous poetry. It reads as a heart-felt cry, torn from longstanding feelings of frustration. And yet the flow of the poems throughout the book is clearly planned. The first section, including Lamentations 1:1-6, is formatted as an acrostic, with each verse beginning with a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The rhythm itself mimics that of a funeral dirge, containing all the important elements.
Within even these few verses we find a description of the utter loneliness of the daughter of Jerusalem, now a widow. The widow weeps. Her friends have all abandoned and betrayed her, leaving her without any peace. There are no longer pilgrims coming to help her. Her priests groan. Her enemies triumph. Her children have gone away. Her glory is vanished. She has no home, and her foes gloat over her sorry state. Reading just beyond verse 6, we see that in addition to all of this, she is aware that it is her own sins that have brought it all about. It is truly a tragic lament.
Difficult to read precisely because it is so authentic to real life, the author of Lamentations is trying to help the people be faithful to Yahweh. Subsequent chapters and verses will call the reader to reflect upon the past, when God led His people out of Egypt and made covenant with them at Sinai. There will be talk about how all have sinned, turning their backs on this covenant-making, covenant-keeping God. The author will invite the reader to look into the future, one where the people of God confess their sins as acts of faith.
But here in these first few verses, the focus is upon the present. And in the present, there has been suffering and death. The only appropriate response is grief.
Jesus, of course, was known as a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.[1] He shed tears at the death of His friend Lazarus.[2] Lament has an honored and hallowed place within Judaism and Christianity. Why, then, are we so afraid of it?
Richard McCall tells the story of a young missionary priest sent to a small village in South America.[3] He was just out seminary and was full of enthusiasm, idealism, and energy. He worked endless hours among the poor, using all of his training and skill. He wrote to bishops and banks alike, argued with politicians, and held meetings in farmyards, all to try and alleviate the suffering of the people. As months wore on, he remained untiring and unwavering. And, sadly, also unsuccessful.
In time, beaten to the point of hopelessness, the young priest began to pack his few belongings to leave. His housekeeper asked, “Padre, where are you going?” “Away,” he told her, “because I am totally powerless to help. As God is my witness I tried, but it cannot be done. In this village there are always more mouths to feed and less food. Promises of help remain promises. I am defeated, angry, and resigned. And I’m powerless to change a single thing.” To this, the woman replied, “But Padre, now that you are one of us, why are you leaving?”
In my own experiences as a pastor and now as a Superintendent I have encountered many pastors who wrestle with whether they should be better than they appear or should appear better than they are. I’ve struggled with it myself! But Our Lord would tell us that neither approach is right. It’s perfectly okay and necessary to be as we are in front of the women and men we serve. They are broken, too, after all. Once we understand that and accept our own brokenness, we can point together to the One who ultimately heals.
As followers of Christ, we lean upon His grace. As part of a holiness tradition, we believe that grace continues to work in the lives of women and men who surrender to it and who strive to be wholly cleansed, to be sanctified, through it. And yet so often in our churches and ministries it appears that the way to “get ahead” is to act as though we don’t need grace. That we can actually survive without it. That on our own we’re just fine, thank you.
Lamentations reminds us that we’re not. It reminds us that life is hard. And it gives us permission to say so. Because God is still with us. God understands. And, because of God, we will be okay.
_________________________________
[1] Isaiah 53:3
[2] John 11:35
[3] McCall, Richard. “Poverty and International Agencies,” Gettysburg Lutheran Theological Seminary Bulletin 61, no. 4 (Fall 1981): 4.