The Fall of Jerusalem and the Lamentations
Everything Jeremiah had announced finally came to pass. In 587 before Jesus Christ, Babylon takes Jerusalem, burns the Temple, tears down the walls, and carries the people into exile. Even before the end, the prophet writes to the first deportees an astonishing letter, which commands them to live and to hope in a foreign land. And over the ruined city rises a song of mourning, the Lamentations, where the people weep their loss while clinging to the faithfulness of God.
The ruin of Jerusalem
The disaster is total. After a long siege and famine, the city falls; the Temple of Solomon, the pride of Israel and dwelling of the divine presence, is burned; the king is blinded and chained, the nobles are executed, and the population is deported to Babylon. It is the end of a world: no more king of the house of David on the throne, no more Temple, no more land. Many could believe that the God of Israel had been defeated by the gods of Babylon. Jeremiah, however, had given in advance the meaning of the trial: it is not God who is defeated, it is the people who reap their unfaithfulness; and the punishment itself is still a work of God, who purifies without abandoning. The ruin is not a farewell, but a night to pass through. The people thus learn to reread their history otherwise: the loss of the Temple and of the land forces them to discover a God who is not shut in a place, but present wherever he is called upon, even in a foreign land. The exile, which seemed the end of Israel’s faith, becomes on the contrary its purifying trial: it is there, stripped of everything, that the people will gather their Scriptures, deepen their prayer, and await salvation more ardently. From the disaster will be born a more interior faith.
The letter to the exiles
Far from leaving the deportees to despair, Jeremiah sends them a letter that overturns all their expectations. Instead of promising them an immediate return, he commands them to settle, to build houses, to plant gardens, to found families, and even to pray for the city of their conquerors: “Seek the welfare of the city to which I have deported you, and pray to the Lord on its behalf.” Jeremiah 29:7 Exile is not the end of the story, but a time to pass through in faithfulness, far from the Temple and yet under the gaze of God. And the prophet unveils the depth of God’s heart, who has never ceased to will their happiness: “plans for peace and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11 In the deepest misfortune, God holds a design of salvation. Jeremiah had even set a duration to the trial, seventy years, to prevent the false prophets from promising an immediate return and to teach the people the patience of hope. This number, more than an exact reckoning, meant a whole generation to pass through in faithfulness. Far from extinguishing expectation, it sustained it: the exile would have an end, fixed by God, and in the end the people would return. To hope, for the deportees, was not to dream of a coming miracle, but to hold firm over time, keeping their eyes fixed on the promise.
The song of the Lamentations
Over the destroyed city then rises a collection of songs of mourning, the Lamentations, long attributed to Jeremiah. In poems of heartrending beauty, the people weep for Jerusalem, widowed and forsaken, her deserted streets, her starving children, her profaned sanctuary. The personified city calls the passers-by to measure her sorrow: “All you who pass along the way, look and see: is there any sorrow like the sorrow that crushes me?” Lamentations 1:12 But it is not a complaint without faith: at the hollow of the pain, a cry of hope springs up, like a dawn in the night: “The faithful love of the Lord is not exhausted, his mercies are not at an end. They are new every morning.” Lamentations 3:22-23 Even upon the ruins, the faithfulness of God remains, surer than the return of day.
Rachel weeping and the suffering Christ
Jeremiah’s mourning nonetheless opens onto hope. In the very chapter of the new covenant, he hears a lament come from the depth of the ages: “it is Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, for they are no more.” Jeremiah 31:15 Rachel, the ancestress, weeps for her deported sons; but God answers her at once that they will come back from the land of the enemy. The Gospel of Matthew will take up this cry at the massacre of the children of Bethlehem, around the newborn Christ, as the last lament before deliverance. And the Church sings the Lamentations during the holy days, for she hears in them beforehand the voice of the suffering Christ: it is he, the stricken Righteous One, who can truly say to the passers-by of Calvary whether there is any sorrow like his. Thus the book of mourning becomes, in the light of Easter, the song of a night that opens onto the morning.