letter to the Exiles

This is what the LORD Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: "Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper."  Yes, this is what the LORD Almighty, the God of Israel, says: "Do not let the prophets and diviners among you deceive you. Do not listen to the dreams you encourage them to have. They are prophesying lies to you in my name. I have not sent them," declares the LORD. (Jeremiah 29:4-9 ESV)

The only place you have to be human is where you are right now.
Eugene Peterson

Jeremiah continues taking me to some deep places.

Not necessarily deep as in somber or sad, but just deep, earthy places.

I see the reflection of my religious self too readily in the faces of men such as Pashhur and the other false prophets (how I would love to just see the faces of others in that profile!). So much of what passes for what should be the radical message of Christianity is an exercise in sanctified escapism. Cordoned off from the world behind cathedral walls we "heal our wounds slightly" while telling ourselves not to get too comfortable here in this world that we are so quickly passing through. Protracted denial. Holy avoidance. Desperate prayers of deliverance from present realities meant to be encountered not escaped. What contrasting fare is found in Jeremiah's letter to the exiles already in Babylon. This is the setting of one of our favorite verses to quote: "I know the plans I have for you - plans to prosper you, and not to harm you; plans to give you a future and a hope." These were plans and a future and a hope that would only mature into reality as they settled in where they were. In exile. Dig deep into Babylonian soil. Get your hands dirty with it. Pray for it. Get used to it. So much of our religion of whatever color or stripe is an effort to escape from where we are, trading in present exiled tediums or terrors for that future and a hope somewhere over the rainbow of our dreams. And in so doing we miss the face of God to be seen and embraced and kissed right here in these exiled places of even our greatest pain, debilitating disappointments and oppressive doldrums.

Peterson's Run With the Horses once again resecures its place on my shelf with its timely and poignant reminder:

Jeremiah's letter is a rebuke and a challenge: "Quit sitting around feeling sorry for yourselves. The aim of the person of faith is not to be as comfortable as possible but to live as deeply and thoroughly as possible - to deal with the reality of life, discover truth, create beauty, act out love. You didn't do it when you were in Jerusalem. Why don't you try doing it here, in Babylon? Don't listen to the lying prophets who make an irresponsible living by selling you false hopes. You are in Babylon for a long time. You better make the best of it. Don't just get along, waiting for some miraculous intervention. Build houses, plant gardens, marry husbands, marry wives, have children, pray for the wholeness of Babylon, and do everything you can to develop that wholeness. The only place you have to be human is where you are right now. The only opportunity you will ever have to live by faith is in the circumstances you are provided this very day: this house you live in, this family your find yourself in, this job you have been given (or not), the weather conditions that prevail at this moment." 

Exile (being where we don't want to be with people we don't want to be with) forces a decision: Will I focus my attention on what is wrong with the world and feel sorry for myself? Or will I focus my energies on how I can live at my best in this place I find myself? It is always easier to complain about problems than to engage in careers of virtue. George Eliot in her novel Felix Holt has a brilliantly appropriate comment on this quesiton: "Everything's wrong says he. That's a big text. But does he want to make everything right? Not he. He'd lose his text."

Oh may my fingers be ruddy and red with the Babylonian soil of my exile as true hope dawns and beckons me on...and to cease from escapist fantasies.