The Way Is Through--March 13, 2020

The Way Is Through--March 13, 2020

[Jeremiah said]: "And I bought the field at Anathoth from my cousin Hanamel, and weighed out the money to him, seventeen shekels of silver. I signed the deed, sealed it, got witnesses, and weighed the money on scales. Then I took the sealed deed of purchase, containing the terms and conditions, and the open copy; and I gave the deed of purchase to Baruch son of Neriah son of Mahseiah, in the presence of my cousin Hanamel, in the presence of the witnesses who signed the deed of purchase, and in the presence of all the Judeans who were sitting in the court of the guard. In their presence I charged Barush, saying, Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel: Take these deeds, both this sealed deed of purchase and this open deed, and put them in an earthenware jar, in order that they may last for a long time. For thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel: Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land." [Jeremiah 32:9-15]

Do you remember that old children's poem, "Goin' On A Bear Hunt"?  It was the one in which you imagine you have to go through a river, or mud, or tall grass, or up a tree, all while searching for the titular "bear"?  And at every obstacle, there is a recurring refrain of sorts: "Can't go over it... can't go under it... can't go around it--you've got to go through it!"  And then all the children sitting in a circle on the carpet pantomime going through whatever it is.

I don't think I realized how much that bit of sing-song children's verse was preparing me for real life in the world of grown-ups, or how much it was forming my mind to better understand the Gospel.  But what so many childhood librarians were teaching me by all those story-hour "bear hunts" was the essential truth that the way is always through... not around, over, or under.  The promise of our God is never, "You won't have to go through the difficult thing," but rather, "I will bring you through it."  

Through the flames.

Through the waters.

Through the wilderness.

Through exile.

Through the valley of the shadow of death.

God's way is not--NOT--to say, "I'll pluck you up so you don't have to go through this time of suffering, or so that you don't bear the sorrow, or that you don't face the danger," but rather, "I will bring you from death to life, from Babylon back home, from Egypt to the Promised Land, but always by way of the wilderness road along the way."

The way is always through.

That's what I have come to so appreciate about the words and perspective of prophets of the exile like Jeremiah.  Jeremiah offers a sure and unshakable hope for the people to whom he spoke--but it was always a hope on the other side of the hard thing.  It was an honest hope of being carried through the experience of exile, not a false hope of avoiding exile altogether.  It was a hope like resurrection, which comes only through the experience of the grave first, rather than just wishful thinking that you could go "around" the valley of the shadow of death.

And, to be clear, that wishful thinking had plenty of popular support. When Jeremiah spoke and wrote, there were other self-appointed prophets (one of them was named Hananiah, and he had a flair for the dramatic rather like Jeremiah, too), and these other voices were much more popular, especially with the royal public relations department (who usually paid their salaries).  Hananiah and the other Pollyanna prophets-for-hire said things like, "Don't worry, there won't be any exile.  It will all blow over. Don't let the dour doom and gloom sourpusses like Jeremiah get you all worked up."  They were sure that all of Jeremiah's talk about the Babylonians coming and destroying their city, their temple, and their king were wrong, because they had a sort of lucky-charm theology that said "God would never let such bad things happen to us since we have the temple where God lives!"

But the government-sponsored spokes-prophets like Hananiah were all wrong.  Exile was not only coming, it was inevitable by the time they got up to tell people it was all fine.  And it was going to last--not days, not weeks, not years, but decades.  It was like their whole nation, their whole way of life, and their whole culture, was killed by the Babylonians.  And indeed, the people had to go through the experience of exile--there was no going "around" or "over" or "under." Only through.

And that's where this strange story about Jeremiah and a field fits.  At first blush, this might seem like an awful lot of fuss made over a tediously boring real estate transaction (all the way down to details like how many copies were made of the deed and who was there to sign it).  But the context is important.  Knowing that the Babylonians were at the door actively destroying, ransacking, and pillaging everything of value they could get their imperial hands on, nobody would want to shell out currency for land that the Babylonians were just going to claim as theirs.  This would be like closing out your bank account in order to get a time-share in downtown Aleppo, Syria, or like reserving a non-refundable room in a Coronavirus-quarantined villa in Tuscany.  To everybody, this seemed like a worthless investment, throwing good money after bad for something that would never be yours to possess.  And that's exactly why God told Jeremiah to buy the field.

The point of buying a field when the Babylonians were practically breathing down everybody's necks was to say, "There will be a time when we come back from exile, and this deed will be worth something then.  There will come a time of homecoming--not yet, but it will happen."  It was hope, but the genuine article rather than a cheap knock-off.  The state-sanctioned, royally-approved pundits only wanted the counterfeit, because it sounded better to say, "Everything is fine.  The bad thing won't come... and even if it does, we'll just get God to whisk us up and over it. But we won't have to face the scary thing, and if you listen to Jeremiah, you'll just be blowing everything out of proportion!"  But the truth was, there was no way "around" or "over" or even "under"--there was only a way through.  Through exile.  Through the loss. Through the suffering. Through death. And then, there could be resurrection, restoration, and homecoming.  One day the deed in the clay jar would be worth something again, and Jeremiah was willing to put his money where his mouth was to show it. But the only real hope was the kind that could, with open eyes, see the scary thing was unavoidable.

These days, it feels like we could use a dose of Jeremiah's hard-earned hope--the kind that comes with an equal dose of hard pills to swallow.  There are real dangers around us, from viruses to shaky markets to simmering wars and global unrest.  And there is no shortage of Hananiahs, either--those voices who say only, "This is fine. Everything is fine" when things are not fine.  Whether in the 6th century BC or the 21st century AD, the folks in the capital always want to make it sound like they have everything under control, even if they don't.  Shutting our eyes to troubles never makes them go away, and just wishing for things to go unchanged in life simply because we don't want to be "inconvenienced" is hardly the grown-up thing to do.  

Also, just like in the days of the royally-approved prophets, sometimes we want to use religion as a lucky-charm that gives us a false sense of security.  In 586BC it was, "God won't let the temple be destroyed, so everything will be fine."  And in 2020, I have seen already more than a few, "Coronavirus can't hurt me, because I put up a post on Facebook quoting a bible verse, and therefore I am protected" memes, as well as heard from a number of folks in a huff that their lives might be inconvenienced but who haven't said a word about whether it is worth bearing that inconvenience if it means someone else can be spared a potentially bad bout of sickness.  And I get it--the temptation is always there to look for a way "around" or "over" or "under" the scary thing that messes with our usual routines.  But like we've been learning ever since those childhood carpet circle "bear hunts," for a lot of times in life, you can't go around or over of under--you've got to go through.

That's what Jeremiah's witness reminds us here, too: in this life, God's way is not to prevent us from having to deal with the difficult stuff, but rather to bring us through it--whether it's the Red Sea, the Sinai wilderness, the Babylonian Exile, the storms on the Sea of Galilee, or a contagious virus stirring up anxieties and making people hoard toilet paper.  The way is through.  That's how resurrection works, too: the way to Sunday comes through the grave on Saturday and the suffering of Friday.  The hope of new life comes only when we have been brought through the valley of the shadow of death.

There is hope for us today, but it is always Jeremiah's kind of honest, truth-telling hope rather than the message of the dime-a-dozen yes-men of the king who insist, "This is fine.  Everything is fine" while the room is on fire.  So don't panic, but don't ignore the voices like Jeremiah's who stop us from sticking our heads in the sand, either.  And don't keep hunting for a secret back door "around" or "over" or "away from" the tough stuff--God blazes a trail that goes through... with us.

Lord God, bring us through... whatever the day holds.  Bring us through.