They’ve retired to a grove of trees near one of the many waterways around Babylon, hung up their harps and called it quits.


Zion. T is is their sacred call- ing, to lead others in worship, yet they’ve been robbed of all they care to sing about. God, it seems, has turned away and abandoned them. T eir songs of mirth have been eviscerated of all signifi cance. So, in defi ance of their captors’ demands, they’ve retired to a grove of trees near one of the many wa- terways around Babylon, hung up their harps and called it quits. No longer will they go through the motions of praising God in this strange place, while their home lies in a burning heap far away.


No More False Worship. I’ve


known that kind of anguish before – of suddenly losing all desire to perform acts of worship that once brought tremendous spiritual ful- fi llment. Some interpreters regard the Hebrews’ behavior as mis- placed national pride – a haughty show of civil disobedience – but I think there’s more to it than that. I think those musicians recognized something we too easily forget: if all we’re doing is slavishly going through the motions of praising God to satisfy others’ expectations, then we’re better off closing our hymnals, hanging up our choir robes, and locking the church doors. When our spiritual cities lie in ruins, it verges on sacrilege for us to praise the God who suppos- edly guards them. Jesus taught that we must


worship “in spirit and in truth” (John 4:23-24). He said God would settle for nothing less, that the at- titude of the worshiper is more important than the volume of reli- gious activity. Perhaps that means


there are times when we have to honestly recognize that our hearts are absent from our worship and go to God with our brokenness instead of our praise. Candid ex- pressions of grief from the depths of a broken heart honor God more surely than joyful songs from de- spondent lips. God can take bro- kenness and transform it, but God can’t work with denial. Admitting we’ve lost the desire to praise is the fi rst step in repenting of vain religiosity. We know the Israelites were


prone to false worship. God made that abundantly clear: “I hate, I despise your religious feasts; I cannot stand your assemblies. … Away with the noise of your songs! I will not listen to the music of your harps” (Amos 5:21, 23). As far as God was concerned, the in- justice and unrighteousness in the land rendered Israel’s “worship” intolerable. Perhaps these Hebrew musicians had begun to realize how, in a sense, they had already “forgotten” Jerusalem (see Psalm 137:5) long before the Babylonians ever showed up. Now, when their captors demand songs of worship, they can’t comply because it’s so obvious to them how devoid of truth the worship would be. Perhaps it’s not merely the


__________________________________________________________________________________________________ January-February 2014 • WorshipArts • www.UMFellowship.org


humiliation of being forced to sing for others’ entertainment that’s so unsettling. Perhaps the Spirit is us- ing their revulsion over “perform- ing” for the Babylonians to reveal just how hurt God is by false religiosity. And if that’s the case, hanging up their harps is an act of repentance – a refusal to engage in any more meaningless song and


iles for appealing to God’s perfect justice in visiting the same degree of cruelty back upon the Baby- lonians? If the graphic language troubles us, perhaps we should consider how the heinous cruelties of warfare are largely “scrubbed” from our view by media censors and the “bubble” that comes from living as free citizens of a global superpower. We’ve heard about the children of Hiroshima and Na- gasaki, for instance; we may have even seen photographs or videos. But few of us, if any, had to watch as they lay dying in their ruined streets. Nor should we forget the American public’s response to the attacks of 9/11. Were our many and varied expressions of retribu- tive vengeance really any less ven- omous than those of the Hebrew exiles? We may not like the senti- ment, but if we read with compas- sion, we’ll fi nd much in common with those musicians.


27


dance in God’s name. T e words that follow become a prayer of re- dedication: “If ever I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill. Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth.” In other words: “I’d rather forget that I ever knew how to make music than continue to do so outside of God’s favor.”


Praying with Impunity.


Ah, but now comes the troubling question of how the remorseful spirit moves from confession to vengeance. It is indeed a jarring contrast, but I think the pathos of the opening verses should evoke empathy, not revulsion, when the Israelites display equal candor about their desire for retribution. Warfare is cruel and barbaric in any age. Ancient invaders murdered children to prevent a new genera- tion of warriors from rising up to avenge their forebears, and Babylon was among the worst on this count. Can we really fault these ex-


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