Is There No Balm in Gilead?

Jeremiah 8:15,18-22; Psalm 79

        Psalm 79:6-7 states, “Pour out your anger on the nations that do not know you, and on the kingdoms that do not call on your name. They have devoured and laid waste to Israel.”

        Sometimes, like it or not, the lectionary texts leads us into places we would rather not venture, particularly in worship. Psalm 79, written during the time of Jeremiah, is a communal lament arising from uncertain calamities in the Middle East.

        I doubt there is anyone here who does not remember where you were on the morning of September 11, 2001. The day before, I had flown from Dallas to Raleigh to conduct the funeral service of a dear friend.  The service was scheduled for three o’clock in Wilmington NC on the 11^th.  Having spent the morning with my parents in Morehead City, I was driving through Camp Lejeune when word of the attack interrupted the radio program to which I was listening. By the time I reached Wilmington, the attacks on the second tower and the Pentagon had been announced. As I climbed the steps to the pulpit, I looked out upon folks, many whom I had not seen in over ten years. While they had come to honor their dear friend, what I could saw in their faces were folks who desired a “word from the Lord” that our enemies would be exposed and brought to justice.

        Congregations beset by sudden tragedy have traditionally looked for a word from God to bring some reason to their calamity. And when no reason can be offered, questions arise. “Where is God when humans suffer? Does God hear our prayers? Does God care? Is God unable to respond?” Biblically, perhaps the best known question falls from the troubled lips of Jeremiah, “Is there no Balm in Gilead?”

        Jerusalem was on the brink of destruction both from beyond and within. The obvious threat came from an army that would tear down the walls, destroy the Temple and drag the survivors into a generation of captivity. But the real tragedy came from the inhabitants of the city who refused to acknowledge the impending doom. First they turned to leadership that had already abdicated responsibility. Some looked to Egypt to negotiate a treaty. Some cried out to their priest who assured them, “God will not let you die.” Lastly they heard the words of Jeremiah, “The harvest is passed, the summer is ended, and we will not be saved. I hurt, I mourn and dismay has taken hold of me.”

        You would think Jeremiah would have given them a gentler word. That is why we come to church isn’t it? After all our other devises have failed, we come back to this holy place to petition God, to remind God that we are faithful, or to be more honest, to plead with God to remember us despite our unfaithfulness. We come for answers to questions that no one has ever been able to answer. What we find is not the triumphant God we desperately need but a grieving God enmeshed in pain.

Those of us who have been parents realize parenthood leaves wounded us in many unique ways. For lesser pains, we had developed remedies.

We could put up a brave front, making folks believe that we are strong enough to bear our pain. 

We became, as Hemingway suggested, “Strong in broken places.”

We became philosophical, recognizing we have brought the trouble on ourselves and resolve to do better next time.

But when our child is hurt, we are helpless. Our child makes a terrible mistake and we would to do anything to make it right. Unfortunately experience shows that intervention is often a formula for guaranteeing additional mistakes. There is nothing we can do to ease their pain.  We can’t make them strong by loaning them our wisdom, for it was through our own mistakes that we gained that wisdom. We are more than a bystander because the child’s pain has become our pain. None the less we stand by, discovering even the bravest front is not much use.  Should we expect less of God?  We, who regularly pray, “Our Father”, forget that God loves us as much as any parent loves their child.

God embraced Jerusalem’s hurt. But it was a pain they had brought upon themselves. The ignorance and indifference of the children of Israel did not make God hurt less. I suspect it made God, the parent of all creation, hurt even more. But God would not respond to their cries. Why? Because God had not only been hurt, God had been offended by Judah’s adulterous ways.  The people only claimed God as a final act of desperation.  What God desired was radical repentance. But none was forthcoming.

What am I trying to say? Am I suggesting our corporate sins are responsible for the chaos that has jeopardized our world? That kind of generalization would be irresponsible. And yet this week we have found ourselves in the midst of one tragedy very close to home and another international calamity ignited by the negligent and reckless leadership of one man toward the citizens of his own nation. How are we to respond? It is amazing the number of folks, many not even associated with our church, who have asked me, “Where is God? How could God allow this to happen? Does God even care?”  2500 years after the death of Jeremiah, we find ourselves still asking the question “Is there no balm in Gilead?”

We have sung that spiritual for so long, yet few know why Jeremiah would make such a statement. The balm of Gilead, an aromatic resin reputed to have medicinal properties, was transported by the Phoenicians throughout the Mediterranean. The balm of Gilead was known from Greece to Egypt and beyond.  But Jeremiah was not referring to a healing medicine. Using a play on words he is asking, “Is there peace in Gilead?” It was a question which needed no response. From the earliest days of King Saul, Gilead had been a disputed territory. First it had been claimed by the Ammonites and then the Philistines.  During the reign of Solomon it was among the cities that rebelled and formed a new nation. In the ninth century it was overrun by Syria on more than one occasion. By 721 B.C. Gilead was destroyed by the Assyrians. The few who survived the slaughter were carried away into slavery. As Jeremiah speaks, his words fall on a people about to receive similar treatment from the armies of Babylon. There will be not balm, not reprieve, no Godly rescue, only exile.

“Is there no Balm in Gilead?” Amazingly, a group of folks from our American experience who may have known nothing about the Babylonian Exile heard the question and responded with an affirmation. The song we now know was not a misreading or denial of history. The song we will sing at the end of the service comes from a belief that history is always in motion, moving toward a divine fulfillment. It comes from a belief that reality is not fixed or stagnant but is painstakingly moving in the direction of human liberation.  Howard Thurman preached, “Hope is the optimism that uses the pessimism of life as raw material to create its own strength. Hope straightens the question mark in Jeremiah’s sentence into an exclamation point.”  There is a balm in Gilead!

Perhaps clinging to this expression of faith exposes my own naïveté.   The truth is I do believe mistakes of the past, both as individuals and as a nation, have consequences. I do believe, both as individuals and a nation, the way we respond to these consequences has a lot to say about our faith system. I do believe in a God who has the ability to change history but also a God who allows history to create its own present. I do believe we have the responsibility to challenge our own moral decisions before we make accusations. But I am not so naïve to fail to acknowledge that there are powerful people in this world that would do anything to preserve their ill-gained status. In other words I struggle with chemical weapons as well as unmanned Ariel vehicles. I struggle with someone killing children as well as someone sending children to war. I struggle with distinguishing between a voice as prophetic and a voice that simply speaks what I desire to hear. I suspect I am no different then you. The motivation for my ethical and moral decision making comes from that voice within that rises up to be heard in any moment of crisis.

The dilemma of course is identifying the inner voice. Is it the voice of reason? Is it the voice of pessimism? Is it the voice of hope? Is it the voice of God? I believe God speaks multiple languages, using each to lead us to a “holy” word.

The glorious thing about this church is that you are willing to listen to both Jeremiah, “Is there a balm in Gilead” and Second Isaiah, “God is creating a new heaven and earth”. You are willing to hear the words of Paul, “All have sinned” and the words of Jesus, “Come unto me all you who are burdened.” It is these conversations, that both burn and convert, which will hopefully lead us from question marks to exclamation points.

Is there a balm in Gilead? I believe there is, but finding such comfort is no easy journey. It is a road where we are challenged to not only trust God, but each other.  A wise man might ask, “What evidence do we have that total trust in the human endeavor is possible?” Is this not the question of Jeremiah? I think today the prophet might respond, “There are no easy answers. There is no cheap grace. But there is God, who loves us; there is God, who grieves for us; and there is God, who beyond everything else, desires to heal our sin-sick souls.

                        To God be the glory!      Amen.