"Vengeance with a Passion"
Sermon Presented September 5, 2004
Psalm 137
Feelings of vengeance are around us and within us. They come unexpectedly and uninvited. At the time of a divorce, a desire for revenge erupts toward the offending spouse! At the time of awareness of the sexual abuse of a loved one, the desire for vengeance on the offender explodes. At the time of an election, political enthusiasts rain down vengeance on the opposing party. When victimized by road rage the desire for a witnessing police officer or even a single car accident in which the driver bears the consequences comes to mind. At the loss of a job, a vendetta takes shape against the offending boss or coworker. We want to see those who hurt us get their due! We claim to want justice, but often we want more than that. Vengeance looms large in our minds and hearts. (Last night on the news I heard that President Putin of Russia said that any act of vengeance will be treated as an act of terrorism!)
I don't know about you, but I've never heard anyone preach on the entire 137th Psalm - a psalm of vengeance. Oh, I've heard the first several verses read in worship, but never the final verses that express the darkest feelings of the psalmist. Let's look at this Psalm - a prayer of and for the people. By the way, Psalm 137 is the only psalm that can be dated reliably. If it wasn't composed in Babylon during the exile (587-539 BCE) it must have been written shortly afterward when the feelings of exile were fresh.
Psalm 137 (Read text)
Musicians can best understand the depth of depression felt by the Israelite captives. They no longer have music to comfort them in their sorrow. Musical instruments are discarded and voices refuse to sing. Why? Because to make music would be to acquiesce to the desires of their captors! "This is one area over which I still have some control and I will use it."
Babylon will never be home to the exiles, and the psalmist expresses the painful reality of remembering Zion. Matters are made worse by the sarcastic demands of their captors. All the Israelites can do is weep. Where is God when God is most needed?
The memory of their homeland is painful. But to fail to remember would be even more painful. Memories offer a glimmer of hope amidst the pain and devastation of exile.
But there's more than sorrow and memory expressed here. The final 2 verses represent the darkest thoughts of the psalmist, and he enunciates them to God! Let me read these words again. "O daughter Babylon, you devastator! Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us! Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!" These words invite us to the kind of prayer that is passionate in its honesty - almost like the dark daydreams of children when first confronted with injustice.
One of my all-time favorite cartoons is from Calvin & Hobbs. A bully knocks Calvin out of a swing and as he's lying on the ground, he laments that one of the faults of religion is an inability to call down lightning from heaven. He wants vengeance!
Our God won't dash the heads of children against stones, but such an honest prayer can help God's people when there seems to be no other help. This prayer puts the act of vengeance in God's hands and takes it out of the hands of the one praying.
Our minds can't dwell on thoughts of vengeance if we want to be emotionally and spiritually healthy, and to act on them would be pathological. But haven't you stayed awake some nights practicing what you would like to say to someone who has put you down, harmed you or embarrassed you? Or haven't you spent hours writing a nasty letter - I mean REALLY nasty - one that would get you in deep trouble if you sent it? As long as we hold on to the words, they do help us blow off steam.
However, the ability to turn such raw and honest emotion into raw and honest prayer is even better. God is more understanding than the people to whom we might be tempted to send hate mail. Beside that, vengeance really does belong to God and only to God.
The hunger for revenge is present in the Psalms and it's there without embarrassment, apology or censure. We can't explain it away. If we are to genuinely pray the psalms, we must try to understand what happens in these prayers of vengeance.
Because the yearning for vengeance is powerfully present within us - in our hearts and in our world - we must address it. The first step is to truly know ourselves, because when we have self-awareness, we understand our desires for vengeance. We see how we nurse our wounds and wait for an opportunity to get even. We remember the verbal assaults launched toward another. It's unrealistic to believe we've outgrown our eagerness for retaliation. The psalms tell it like it is - with us!
Hate is our response to what we perceive as evil. It's a volcano within that's ready to erupt in outrage when someone has been violated. It's the ugliest and most dangerous of our emotions. Embarrassed by its ugliness and fearful of it, we don't admit our hate - and we don't pray our hate. We deny it and suppress it. But if it's not admitted, it can quickly and easily change into the evil that provokes it, and if it isn't prayed we have lost an essential insight and energy in doing battle with the evil.
God can come to us through the ugly emotions of hatred and vengeance. When we bring our hate into the presence of God, we see that God has ways of dealing with it that are both different and better than what we had in mind. But until we offer it to God, we aren't teachable.
It's easy to be honest with God in our praise and thanksgiving, somewhat more difficult in our grief and hurt and almost impossible to be honest with God in the dark emotions of hate and vengeance. That's why we usually suppress these negative emotions.
What is the reason, then for praying vengeance? First, it's healing! In prayer we can let it all hang out and tell God what we feel. It's speech that lets us discover the power, depth and intensity of our feelings. In our text, the psalmist suddenly explodes into hatred after stating his grief. He discovers something about himself through prayer. To pray is to offer our whole selves to God and to know that God loves us as we are and chooses to use us anyway.
When I journal, I write my thoughts and feelings. For me, journaling is a form of prayer. As I reread my entries, I can see how ridiculous some are. But if I never express them, I won't know these thoughts exist in my heart. In writing, I offer them to God and God helps me put them in perspective. When we offer our rage to God, we discover that our words and feelings don't destroy our enemy, and we see that they aren't as dangerous as we thought.
Nor do our words bring judgment down on us. When feelings
are unspoken, they appear too large and they can condemn us. When spoken,
these intense feelings and thoughts are brought into a context in which
we can look at them differently. After a while, the intensity lessens.
We then discover the attitudes that precipitated our rage.
It's important to realize that our verbal assaults of imagination are
just that -- verbal. They speak wishes and prayers but the speaker doesn't
do anything beyond speech. The speech of vengeance is in place of destructive
action.
Psalms of vengeance are offered to God, not directly to the enemy. Vengeance is transferred from the heart of the speaker to the heart of God. This isn't just a psychological matter it's theological. When vengeance is entrusted to God, the speaker can be set free from its power. Knowing we are in God's realm and able to address God gives perspective to our venom.
How do we approach this kind of prayer? First we must
recognize that our rage is present and owned as my rage. Then we must
fully express it with as much power and intensity as possible. Many
times psychologists and psychiatrists advise a patient to hit a punching
bag or pillow or scream obscenities at a likeness of the person who
caused the rage. In this method, the rage is expressed, but it isn't
given to God. It's owned, but it isn't prayed!
In prayer, the full rage and bitterness is yielded to God's wisdom and
care. This submission to God is an act of faith and confidence in God.
There's no reason to be triumphant, but we can be very sure of God.
At the end of the psalm, the rage is transformed by the double step
of owning it and yielding it to God.
The Bible is clear about the fact that vengeance belongs to God. It's not human business. Assigning vengeance to God means ending our vengeance. It's liberating to know that we don't need to trouble ourselves with retaliation, because that's God's department. To affirm that vengeance belongs to God is itself an act of profound faith.
In this psalm the highest and lowest passions of scripture are paired together. "By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept…" and before it's over, "Lord, bash the babies' heads against a stone." No matter the time or the culture, this is an unthinkably awful prayer; but it's scripture and it's here for us to pray.
For us, there is no grief so deep there can be no consolation; no sin so serious there can be no forgiveness; no hate so intense there can be no love; no prayer so honest it will not be heard. Our honest prayer won't force God's hand, but it will bring God into the picture; and to our honest prayers God will say, "Here, let me take your bitterness and your pain from you. Now come, pick up your life and follow me!" *
*"By the Waters of Babylon" by James S. Lowry
in Journal for Preachers, Easter, 1992, p. 33.
Sources: Praying the Psalms by Walter Brueggemann and Answering
God by Eugene Peterson.
