Minister: Rev. Kerry McCormick

Text: Psalm 137:1-9 (NRSV)

Title: How Can We Sing?

Theme:  Our modern society doesn’t deal well with difficult emotions like anger and grief, but the Psalms help us articulate to God even the worst, most painful experiences of our lives helping us build trust in our faith.

Psalm 137: 1-9

¹ By the rivers of Babylon—
   there we sat down and there we wept
   when we remembered Zion. 
² On the willows there
   we hung up our harps. 
³ For there our captors
   asked us for songs,
   and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying,
   ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’ 

⁴ How could we sing the Lord’s song
   in a foreign land? 
⁵ If I forget you, O Jerusalem,
   let my right hand wither! 
⁶ Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth,
   if I do not remember you,
   if I do not set Jerusalem
   above my highest joy. 

⁷ Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites
   the day of Jerusalem’s fall,
   how they said, ‘Tear it down! Tear it down!
   Down to its foundations!’ 
⁸ O daughter Babylon, you devastator!
   Happy shall they be who pay you back
   what you have done to us! 
⁹ Happy shall they be who take your little ones
   and dash them against the rock!

Prayer before Preaching:

Holy and eternal God, open our hearts and minds by the power of your Holy Spirit, that

As the scriptures are read and your Word proclaimed,

We may hear with joy what you say to us today. Amen.

My maternal grandmother, Lillian, lived with us for a couple of years near the end of her life after she had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and we realized she couldn’t live on her own in San Francisco any more.  Although my mother was an only child, Grandma Lillian didn’t know my mom and was often belligerent toward my parents even accusing them of holding her captive in our Loveland home. 

This was during my college years and some weekends, I’d go home to help my folks with my Grandma.  One evening after dinner, Lil and I went for a walk in our neighborhood, just to give my parents a little breather.  As we walked, Lil asked me why “those people” wouldn’t let her go home.   I tried to explain that her daughter and son-in-law loved her and wanted the best for her.  But she was deeply homesick for the familiarity of her beloved San Fran and pressed the point.  I tried suggesting that perhaps they would change their minds if Grandma could tell them where she lived now and why.  Articulating an understanding of the disease that was robbing her of her memory was impossible so Lil focused on location. Grandma knew she wasn’t in San Francisco, but naming Loveland was not possible. 

So I tried a different tact.  “Grandma, let’s start with an easier one, then,” I said, “How ‘bout naming the state you’re in.” 

She stopped in her tracks and looked at me intently.  For a moment I recognized my Grandma – fully herself.  The lights were on and she was home.  She said, in that classic sense of humor of hers, “Oh sweetie, I’m in a state of confusion.”  Then, just as quickly, a veil of fear descended over her eyes and she retreated into that regressed shell of her former self we’d become sadly accustomed to living with.

That’s the last time I remember really being with my Grandma.  It was so painful to witness her fright at not knowing who she was anymore.  Sometimes her fear got the better of her and she would say and do things that were uncharacteristically angry and even violent.  Trying hard to remember her life and knowing it was slipping away made her sad and mad.  Based on my Grandma’s experience, I can only imagine the collective fear and anger experienced by those voices we hear in psalm 137. 

And I know from the work I do that few households have the skills to fight fairly.

It is not my intention to get sidetracked with a bunch of self-help, psycho-babble, pop-psychology.  You won’t walk out of here with 5 steps to healthier relationships or 12 things every healthy family must do.  I’m not a therapist.  I’m a theologian.  I’m not here to offer a quick fix.  I am willing to take the risk to look at my own life experiences, my faith (and the integration of those two things), and to invite you to think, theologically about the ways these difficult emotions affect your faith journey with God and your relationships with your loved ones, co-workers, classmates, and your significant others.

I have lost count of how many times I have introduced myself in a social situation and the person I’m meeting for the first time, upon hearing that I’m a pastor, begins to tell me the story about how they used to go to church until…. 

That weighty “until” is followed by a lengthy and often guilt ridden story about how this person or their family had a bad experience in a church, someone took offense to something, someone got mad, and now everyone’s sad and they are afraid to go to church anymore, or if they do, they’re sensitive and hyper-vigilant to make sure “it” doesn’t happen again.  And all people of faith are guilty before proving themselves innocent in the damage done to this person I just met.  Chances are we’re still shaking hands.

Fear and anger are so closely related to one another.  We typically hear about them as the “Flight or Fight” response.  They are a normal part of our human experience.  None of us gets to avoid these feelings, and in and of themselves, they are neutral – neither good nor bad.  The problem for most Christians is that we think we, if we really were faithful enough, shouldn’t have these feelings.  “Real Christians, ” we’ve been told, are able to leave all their burdens at “the foot of the cross” so as to remain even keel, calm, cool and collected in all circumstances.  Does anybody in this room resemble that ideal? How’s that working out for you?

Our journey through the psalms might help us understand our responses to situations that bring up fear and anger in us.  Taking a close look at Psalm 137 might just give us some clues to get a handle on how we respond to these tough emotions as people of faith. 

When I teach the first year of Disciple Bible Study, I usually begin our first class with a reading of the first 4 verses of this psalm.  “By the rivers of Babylon – there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion.  On the willows there we hung our harps.  For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’  How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”

So, what’s going on in Psalm 137? 

The artisans, the educated, the wealthy and the influential of Jerusalem were taken into captivity by the Babylonians in 587-586 BCE, and removed from their homeland.  The Babylonians didn’t take every Israelite, only those in Jerusalem who could be helpful in Babylonian empire building.  It wasn’t their goal to conquer Israel and have to care for that nation’s poor, their uneducated, or their unskilled.  It was simply their goal to plunder Israel for her talents.  So Israelite families were torn apart, their leadership was stripped away, and the fabric of their culture, being God’s chosen people, based on caring for the orphans, the widows and the resident aliens in their midst, those who were most vulnerable –their very identity, was ripped from them.  The Babylonians could not have cared less about what would become of the Remnant of Israel that was left behind.

If you happen to have a Bible with you, you can look at these psalms and you’ll see that they all begin with the inscription: “A Song of Ascents.” The joy to be found in the very act of drawing near to and worshipping of God is evident as you scan through them.

So try to imagine attempting to sing one of these songs of joy and preparation for worshipping God in the temple (by definition in Jerusalem) from a place of captivity thousands of miles from home at spear point.  The Babylonian request for a song is a way of rubbing Israelite noses in the muck of their predicament.  Anger and humiliation are obvious in these first verses. 

Anger and fear that they will never get to go home especially if they forget where they came from, which we hear clearly in verses 5-6, “If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither! Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.”  Do you hear the fear of forgetfulness?  Do you hear the anxiety about letting go of their memories of Jerusalem (where God lives)?  It’s far more poignant than my Grandma’s fear about forgetting San Francisco and letting go of all that she held dear.  

To return to the matter of the question of context: I believe to answer the question, “How did we get here?” Israel began with, “In the beginning, God created,” as a process of gathering its collective memory, of tracing its own history in order to make sense of how they came to be captives in Babylon rather than as a light to other nations and secure in their own Promised Land.  This thought about context did not originate with me; I can’t take credit for it.  Since the 1970’s, most biblical scholars agree the compilation of the book of Genesis dates to the 6^th century BCE, to this particular time in Israel’s history.  

Tracing the history of Israel’s relationship with God through the centuries was a way to understand what was happening to them and to address the concern about whether or not God would continue to be God for them.  “In the beginning, God created …” gets at the matter of identity as the story unfolds from the Torah through the library of Israel’s history.

Fear and anger about identity and the whereabouts of God would be difficult enough.  Unfortunately, the psalm doesn’t get to feel any better.  The final three verses conclude with one of the harshest passages we ever have to face in scripture, “O daughter of Babylon, you devastator!  Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us!  Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!”  Wow.  Elsewhere in my Bible, I hear God say that vengeance belongs solely to God.  What are these people doing when they cry out for the babies of their tormentors to be thrown against rocks?  What is this passage even doing in the cannon of Holy Scripture? 

Humiliation, fear, frustration, revenge and anger are evident emotions.  The psalmist is willing to do the hard work of naming a tough reality for the captives in Babylon.  Because we have psalm 137, we are invited to acknowledge those times when we encounter fear and anger just like the ancient ones.  Scripture itself gives us permission to articulate times in our lives when we find ourselves in Babylon: frustrated, fearful, humiliated, vengeful, and angry.  Something our culture doesn’t do well.

But are these the emotions of faithful people?  Are these feelings “okay” for Christians to feel or to talk about?  Psalm 137 takes us to a scary place in our faith.  If you’ve ever heard it said, “I don’t get mad, I get even,” you know exactly what I’m talking about.  And some of us might be starting to feel that “Flight or Fight” response already.  Should we try to deny the reality of our human experience, though?  How’s that working out for you?

Rather than sweeping these strong emotions under a rug, “stuffing” them, or denying what we are feeling, the psalmist helps us name the authenticity of raw human emotion.  Rather than simply accepting a diagnosis of cultural or historical Alzheimer’s and reacting out of fear and anger, as I saw with my own dear Grandma, perhaps it’s okay for us to take a hard look at the veracity of our situation, review our historical context, and find a way forward that expresses our trust in God. 

As followers of Jesus Christ, as folks who are working out our A.D.D., our active daily discipleship and trying to find ways to live our faith out loud, don’t we need to find a better way to face the emotions that scare us?   If we are to be family for one another, and we have already agreed that we need to set a better example of spiritual and emotional maturity within the Body of Christ than we see elsewhere in our lives, then where shall we go to look for answers? 

Clearly, the greatest pattern for spiritual and emotional maturity for us Christians is to be found in the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus.  We do witness times when Jesus was angry (the cleansing of the temple in John 2) and even fearful (feeling abandoned on the cross in Mark 15).  When a storm assailed the disciples’ boat on the Sea of Galilee (Luke 8), Jesus certainly encountered fear in those closest to him.  Martha is pretty clearly angry with Jesus when she confronts him about her brother, Lazarus’, death, “If you would have been here, he wouldn’t have died (John 11).”  In his many debates with Pharisees, Jesus faced opposition that would have angered many of us.  Tried, convicted and sentenced to death for a bogus crime, who else can we name who has taken on more human fear and anger than Jesus?

In the midst of all these difficult emotions, Jesus remained his own person, secure in his faith in God, in his purpose and in his identity.  When you know who and whose you are, it’s easier to gain perspective and keep yourself together.  False accusations are easier to brush off when you are certain, within your gut, that they are false.  At home, work or school, when you are caught up in a conflict, rest secure that the Christ-in-you provides strength and confidence to help you define yourself and hang onto what is right. If you aren’t so confident, however, perhaps there is room for grace and even forgiveness.  The only way to discern, to know for sure, is through prayerful consideration and hearing all the sides.  Slow down and listen.

We are called to be the voice for those who cannot speak for themselves.  We are called to participate in the in-breaking of the kingdom of God through our engagement to “know Christ and make him known, serve Christ by serving others.”

This is different from promoting an agenda or standing on a soapbox telling others what they must do, this is personally getting your hands dirty and working with others to correct what you (collectively) see that is not right.  It’s not a gossip email chain or a conversation in the church parking lot.  It’s not undermining those with whom you have a personality difference.  It’s figuring out why you have your own hot buttons, and instead of gathering a posse, it’s direct interaction with others, listening respectfully together for common ground and moving forward in unity as the Body of Christ.  That is the way healthy faith communities move forward connected by their abiding love for one another especially when there are significant differences of opinion among them.  Sunrise Church: are you prepared to hear Psalm 137, to see yourselves in the emotions it raises and to accept the challenge to move to a different place in your discipleship?

Our Christian faith never lets us slide.  We don’t get to excuse away those parts of our personality we don’t like.  Psalm 137 remains in the cannon of our Scriptures and we don’t get to be let off the hook.  We are confronted with the reality of our emotional life as it relates to our faith today.  Fear and anger are natural parts of our experience as human beings.  But so is our faith.  Healthy Christian discipleship (Active Daily Discipleship) doesn’t side-step the issue, it doesn’t minimize the weight of our emotions; rather, our faith helps us face all of our feelings with the help of God through our relationship with Jesus Christ. 

Let us pray:

Gracious and Holy God, created in your image, you know us to our very core.  You know our every thought, our every intention.  From you there is no place to hide.  Forgive for those times when we indulge and allow our emotions to get the better of us.  Even when we behave in ways that disappoint and frighten us, your love is there inviting us to be more than we think we can be.  Empower us to be your disciples in the pattern Jesus gave us for living our lives from the confidence we gain from the indwelling of your Holy Spirit. Named and claimed as your children, give us grace to live lives in love with you.  You know what we’re trying to do.  Help us to do it.  Amen.