The Old Testament – Book of Lamentations I: An Early Example of the Five Stages of Grief

Posted on July 15, 2013 by virgowriter

I could be a little melodramatic when I was a kid!  I had a few buttons, and for whatever reason, a close friend of mine, Casey, knew which to push. And whether it was a comment made during kickball, some joke at my expense in our third grade class, or not asking me to go with a group of friends to 7-11, I would come home incensed.  Fuming, I would tell mom all about it—what a jerk he was, how hurt I felt, etc. For some reason, she prioritized this over the work on her desk at the Department of Water and Power.

Listening to my rant, she offered appropriate advice on how to deal with people when they upset you—don’t let them get to you, tell them how you feel, take yourself to 7-11—and generally left me feeling better.  Which was a perfect time to ask her if I could sleep over ant Casey’s that weekend.

Thankfully, Mom never said to me that I should grow up, learn what real sadness was about, and stop wasting her time at work.

The Book of Lamentations portrays what, in fact, a real depressing scenario looks like and its effect on a person’s emotions as they attempt to handle this overwhelming situation—Jerusalem’s destruction.  Unlike me, this speaker understands true grief, and through this book demonstrates an early example of what we now know as the five stages of grief: denial, bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance.

The first of these five grief poems begins with the speaker reeling from Israel’s destruction.  He is in denial about how Israel came to be destroyed (all that ignoring God’s words/laws, etc.) and instead suggests that Israel has been betrayed by friends (1:2). In her time of need, Israel apparently called out to ALL her lovers for support (1:2), which seems to be likening Israel to a promiscuous individual.  Little odd to think of your country this way, but the speaker moves on to the list of horrors endured by Israel, which contains an account of the land being pillaged and God’s Temple being looted and then destroyed (1:10).

The end of this first poem touches on what would be the second stage: bargaining.  There’s not much to this stage, however, as there is no quid pro quo.  The speaker suggests that Zion is begging for help and no one is helping (17). There’s also the sense that now that Israel has suffered, please make others suffer too.  So there’s not the traditional bargaining, but at least a sense of asking for something.

The second poem addresses anger.  Here, the speaker lashes out at God’s wrath and his determination to destroy Israel (2:8).  But like all good anger, it sometimes prevents you from seeing the other side of things, which in their case means acknowledging Israel’s part in bringing about their own destruction as the speaker urges the people to pray for mercy (2:17-19). This section is capped by reminding the lord that he’s been too harsh (2:20).

This anger gives way to depression in the third and fourth poems. He rattles off a lengthy laundry list of all the tragedy the Lord has inflicted.  You can hear the depression when he relays, among other things, that the lord has made his skin and flesh grow old and broken his bones (3:4).  The depressions ebbs a bit as the speaker turns to hope, for he feels God’s love (3: 22).  He hopes God will get over his anger and repay the author’s tormentors (3:64). Then, after likening Israel’s punishment to Sodom and Gomorrah (4:6) (which seems a stretch, given that nothing survived that), the speaker blames the priests and prophets for screwing Israel (4:13). Yet earlier, it was Jerusalem who sinned (1:8). So which is it?

The fifth and final poem acknowledges acceptance for Israel’s situation. The speaker says that Israel gets it, they messed up (5:6-7), and hey, they’re suffering (5:8-11), but can you come through for us? Why HAVE you forsaken us? (5:21).

If you just finished telling someone that you messed up and how you messed up, do you have to ask why the situation is the way it is? Wouldn’t you understand why God has forsaken you? But perhaps God was just happy to have the speaker work through the emotions, for sometimes being a good parental figure means you just sit and listen without judgment, appreciating how one of your charges is able to demonstrate some level of understanding.

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The Old Testament – Book of Jeremiah III: Be Nice to Those You Use

Posted on July 13, 2013 by virgowriter

We moved a bunch when I was kid—I started ninth grade at my 11th address—and because moving is so much fun, we tended to rely on a mix of friends and hired hands (the kind of guys you pluck from a workers corner and pay cash).  Half way through the day, Dad would go fetch food—In-N-Out was typical—and he made sure everyone was fed. When I was real young, I was unclear why you gave food to people you were also paying. “Because that’s how you treat people who help you out,” Dad said, “even if you are paying them.

Some people are not this nice to the people who pitch in; some are downright bad; some even stab you in the back once they’ve gotten what they want from you.  This is sad, for if you do this, how likely are they to be around when you need something else?

In the Book of Jeremiah, God uses Babylon to sack Jerusalem and capture Israel. It appears that the Israelites just can’t learn their lesson and God hopes some 70 years worth of captivity will impart a useful lesson. However, God seems to resent Babylon, for he decrees that the Babylonians will pay for what they did to Jerusalem.

Huh?

The people of Judah are ordered to create yokes around their necks and deliver themselves to Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon (27:2, 6).  Those that do not allow themselves to serve this king will be wiped out by the sword, famine, etc. (27:8).  So basically God gave Babylon a present.

But then Jeremiah has some words for those in captivity: I will pluck you from captivity and I will completely destroy all the nations in which I scattered you—which includes Babylon (30:11).  In further detail, through Jeremiah, this is what the lord has planned for Babylon: You’ll be captured, your gods shamed, you land will be decimated by an enemy from the north, all living things will flee from what is left, and  all plundered (50:2, 10).

Ouch.

Now, being in exile probably sucks—I get that—but what did the Babylonians do to the Israelites that was all that bad? I’m sure the Israelites weren’t treated well, but how does one treat an enslaved people? They weren’t exactly GUESTS in the king’s palace? God’s reasoning seems to be that they rejoiced at pillaging Israel (50:11) yet they were following God’s directions.  Should they have done so grudgingly?

For this reason is seems unfair (and cruel) to hold these people to the same fate that befalls the people who attacked and generally screwed with Israel every chance they got.  To these other people Jeremiah has some special words; specifically, for Baruch, Egypt, Philistine, Moab, Ammon, Edom, Damascus, Kedar, Hazor and Elam. As you can guess, they don’t have much to look forward to (45-49).

If the Old Testament is a good gauge, then word got around well during this era (which is impressive, given their lack of technology). As such, you would think that God would be more mindful of what would be said of how he treated those he used.  If he wanted people to do his bidding, what kind of example does it set when the people who have get shafted soon after? I don’t mean talking behind someone’s back; I’m talking about being wiped out. Sort of damned if you do, damned if you don’t, right?

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The Old Testament – Book of Jeremiah II: Biblical Metaphors

Posted on July 11, 2013 by virgowriter

I had assumed that the dentist and the hygienist were clearly kidding that flossing regularly and brushing would be a good idea.  When I was a kid I had pretty sad oral hygiene, which is why I had a bunch of cavities. I wanted NOTHING to do with getting shot up with Novocain and having my enamel drilled out, thank you very much. Like with most things, though, the reality isn’t as bad as the ideas you’ve concocted.  Still. When it came time to get my first cavity filled, I had all kinds of questions about what to expect, particularly about the pain I imagined being involved.

The details included the drilling, the filling, etc. but no mention of the needle he was holding behind his back. I was most concerned about what I would and would not feel. “All you’ll feel is a little pinch when I give you the shot”. I guess all pinches are equal, though I had had my fair share of painful ones. To ease my anxiety though, Dad was invited to watch. He held my hand and kept me updated on what was happening. And since Dad was fascinated with what he saw, I was a little calmer.

I still wished the doc would have found a different way to explain what the whole thing would feel like, for although I did feel the “pinch” I also felt the drill, the instruments in my mouth, although I didn’t feel any “pain.”

But I guess my old dentist explained the experience of pain and discomfort the best way he knew how: using a metaphor.

In the Book of Jeremiah, Jeremiah uses metaphors often to explain the extent to which the Israelites have screwed up and need to course correct. As his audience changes—his words span the reign of five different kings—he apparently had to find the metaphor that would make the most sense.

But not everyone has a clear idea of what a metaphor is.

In grade school (or perhaps later) you probably learned that a metaphor is a comparison between two things without using like or as (a simile uses those two). You probably learned that a metaphor helps a poet paint a pretty word picture.

Metaphors do more than sound cool.

A better way of thinking about this literary device is that a metaphor explains something abstract (like love) in terms of something concrete (like a rose).  You take everything you know about the concrete thing and graft it onto the abstract thing.  So if you can’t articulate an abstract concept, like what a person’s love means to you, for example, you turn to a metaphor (or a buy a card with one developed on it) to do the heavy lifting.  The outside of the card might read: my love for you is like a blooming rose.  The inside might follow with: it is just opening up, smells pretty, is delicate, etc.

All metaphors are incomplete, though, for in the rose=my love example, the author might omit how roses need careful watering, have thorns that will prick you, and they will die soon, no matter what you do for it.

So, although metaphors can be effective in explaining something, they should be used carefully.

In trying to explain how bad Israel has treated God, Jeremiah explains how they are like a woman who leaves her husband, lived as a prostitute, and then tries to reconcile with her husband (3:1). Seems like women are the only people who step out of marriage, but that aside, this seems to make a strong impression, for being a prostitute is so prevalent in the Old Testament, this is bound to make the point.

But God really has a problem with the false prophets, who claim to speak on God’s behalf.  To articulate how bad these have been, Jeremiah has been armed with God’s true words, and these words will be like fire that consume these prophets as if they were wood(5:14). And we all know what fire does to wood.

But things take a dark turn when a rape metaphor is used (13:22). Not only is the suggestion that people will punished as they deserved—they will be raped; but rather God is the one who will do the raping (13:26). Where to begin with this one? So some rape is justified?

Thankfully, the brutal metaphors soften when the clay metaphor is used to explain God’s relationship with the Israelites: he is the potter and they the clay. He lets Israel know that not only are they his people and he will do with them as he wishes—he gave them the rules and they broke them, so deal with his punishment, which he will decide—but he is preparing a disaster for them (18:5-10).

But perhaps such harsh metaphors needed to be tempered, and what better way to man’s head than through his stomach. Thus, the fig basket metaphor uses to explain things to Jeremiah. The good figs, the ones that can be eaten and worth being enjoyed are the recently exiled Israelites in Babylon (the ones who went where they were supposed to) (24:5-7). The bad, poor figs represent King Zedekiah who, with his advisors and other survivors of Jerusalem, is hiding out in Egypt.  God has all kinds of nastiness planned for them—things beyond what one would do to a bad basket of figs (24:8-10).  This fig metaphor is apparently so effective, it’s used to convey to the priests in exile that all who did not go into exile in Babylon will be treated like a bad batch of figs (29:17).

Given how little impact all the warnings had on the Israelites, it appears they should have used better metaphors. Or perhaps they just needed someone to hold their hands and do a better job of explaining things in general, as my dad did, who throughout my first cavity filling kept me updated and made the whole experience a little more pleasant—or perhaps about as pleasant as such a thing can be.

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