If I forget Jerusalem
Recalling acts of abuse or injustice can be excruciating. But it’s vital for us to process our grief and anger. Doing so, the psalmist resolves to cling to her hope of Jerusalem’s restoration, no matter what.
1 By the rivers of Babylon
we sat down and wept
as we remembered Zion.
2 There on the willow trees
we hung up our lyres
3 because our captors asked for songs
and our tormentors wanted a laugh:
“Sing us one of your good ol’ Zion songs!”
4 But how could we sing any of YHWH’s songs
there in a foreign land?
5 If I forget you, Jerusalem
may my right hand wither.
6 May my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth
if I don’t remember you
if I don’t count Jerusalem my highest joy!
7 Don’t forget the Edomites, YHWH
on the day of Jerusalem—
how they said, “Raze it!
Raze it down to its foundations!”
8 Beautiful brain-bashing Babylon
doomed to destruction:
Blessed is the one who pays you back in kind
for what you did to us.
9 Blessed is the one who snatches your little ones
and bashes them against the rock.
Beside the same rivers that nourished Eden’s beautiful trees, the psalmist’s tormentors demanded songs celebrating Zion’s unrivalled place in the world. Having destroyed Jerusalem, they now wanted fodder for their mockery. The psalmist* and her fellow captives refuse, hanging their lyres on the willows in anguish, the trees now representing not abundance, but rather devastation and loss.
Zion was where God lived to manifest his just rule on earth, offering grace and peace to all who sought shelter in him. The psalmist refuses to give that dream up, though she can’t reconcile it with her exile to Babylon either. But with everything else of value stripped away, she refuses to abandon her vision of Zion, no matter how impossible it seems. In fact, she’s prepared to cling to that hope even if it costs her health, her life.
Now her images of Zion ring with harsh Edomite cries and blind her with visions of Babylonians smashing Israelite babies’ heads against the rock. She ends her psalm with what seems an all-too-human outburst of vitriol but is in fact a declaration that she’s trusting that God will see that justice is done. She shockingly affirms that God will bless those who fulfill Isaiah’s prophecy that God would ensure that the Babylonians’ evils are done to them in turn (Isa. 13:16). She thus gives her pain and anger to God, accepts his judgment, and turns vengeance over to him.
Lord, I hate seeing brokenness or pain. But you’d also have me resist evil and weep with those who weep, not pretend all is well in Babylon. Help me see that compassion demands justice, which must always be on your terms, and that seeking first your kingdom involves this too. Amen.
During your free moments today, say these words:
If I forget you, Jerusalem
may my right hand wither.
May my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth
if I don’t remember you
if I don’t count Jerusalem my highest joy!
* I imagine the psalmist here as a woman of faith, like Miriam, Deborah, Hanna, or the Virgin Mary (see further, my answer to the question: Who wrote the psalms?).
