Praise in Exile
Psalm 137
Rev. Jason J. StellmanIntroduction
There is a powerful moment in the film adaptation of J.R.R.
Tolkien’s The Return of the King in which Pippin, a young hobbit
from the Shire, finds himself serving as an esquire to the Lord
of the most powerful city in all of Middle Earth. Needless to
say, he feels utterly silly, small, and out of his element. His
sense of misplacement is heightened, however, when the Lord of
the city makes an unexpected request: “Can you sing, Master
Hobbit?” “Well, yes,” Pippin responds sheepishly. “At least,
well enough for my own folk. But we have no songs for… great
halls, and evil times.” The music of the Shirefolk—lighthearted
songs about food, friendship, and ale—may have been appropriate
in their own context, but to sing them here, before the king’s
throne in Minas Tirith, would be the height of imprudence.
Yet this situation, awkward as it was, pales in comparison to
that described in Psalm 137. The people of Israel had been
carried off into captivity in Babylon, and to add insult to
injury, their oppressors made a similar, yet far more sinister,
demand: “[In Babylon] our captors required of us songs, and our
tormentors, mirth, saying, ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’”
(v. 3). This was no example of multiculturalism on the part of
the Babylonians (“We’re fortunate enough to have some Hebrews
among us! Let’s learn about their rich history, their
interesting customs, and their wonderful God.”). It was, rather,
an example of mockery and scorn, resulting in the only response
that seemed possible: “How shall we sing the LORD’s song in a
foreign land?” (v. 4).
What about us? We who trust in Christ are described in the New
Testament as “exiles” as well; does this mean that we must
remain silent before our enemies? Is our situation so dire that
our tongues must remain tied and our mouths shut in fear and
shame?
Thesis and Points
The main point that we will demonstrate from this passage is
that as New Covenant exiles we can still offer praise. This will
be seen as we consider the following questions: 1. What did
Jewish exile look like? 2. What does Christian exile look like?
3. Why can we sing praise when they could not?
I. What Did Jewish Exile Look Like?
The first thing we learn from our text is that the Jewish
exile took place in Babylon (v. 1). This situation was
prophesied years prior in the Mosaic Law as the ultimate curse
for covenant infidelity:
The LORD will bring you to a nation that neither you nor your
fathers have known. And there you shall serve other gods of wood
and stone. And you shall become a horror, a proverb, and a
byword among all the peoples where the LORD will lead you away
(Deut. 28:36-37).
Due to their refusal to keep God’s covenant, the northern
kingdom of Israel was taken captive in 722 BC, and the southern
kingdom of Judah followed in 586 BC.
The significance of this punishment cannot be overstated. This
was not merely a sad and unfortunate example of a nation losing
its land (a common occurrence throughout history). No, this was
something far more tragic. But in order to understand exile, we
must first understand theocracy.
A “theocracy,” as its name suggests, has to do with the rule of
God over a people. But there is more to a theocracy than the
bare fact that God is exercising control over his children
(which is always the case). A true theocracy exists when God’s
dominion is coupled with a domain, when his rule is connected to
a realm—an actual piece of real estate within the borders of
which God rules his people in a special and unique way. Israel’s
situation in the Promised Land is perhaps the most obvious
example of a theocracy in the Bible: God had given the land of
Canaan to his people and charged them with the task of subduing
and exercising dominion over his enemies (much like he did with
Adam in the Garden of Eden). Moreover, God had chosen the city
of Jerusalem as the place where his name would dwell and his
glory would rest.
For God’s people to find themselves dispossessed and carried off
to such a pagan land as Babylon, therefore, signified more than
the loss of their homeland—it signified the loss of the kingdom
and the blessings associated with it. The cool and refreshing
Tigris and Euphrates rivers offered no comfort for God’s people,
but only a place to sit down and weep and mourn their loss. The
shade provided by the willows at the rivers’ brink gave no
solace from the heat of oppression, but only a place where
harps—once instruments of praise to the God of Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob—could be hung until a better day (vv. 1-2).
The next thing our passage tells us about Jewish exile is that
it was a time of despair mixed with hope (vv. 1-2, 4-6). In
verse 2 we note that Israel’s harps were not destroyed, but were
hung on the willows in the hopeful anticipation of a day of
release, of Jubilee, and of restoration of the kingdom that was
lost (Psa. 126). Though lamentation rather than exultation was
upon their lips in this strange land, God’s people vowed not to
forget how to sing the Lord’s song when Jerusalem was rebuilt
and the theocracy restored (vv. 5-6).
Thirdly, Jewish exile was a time of shame and regret. Verses 3
and 4 highlight the attitude of scorn and derision that the
Babylonians displayed toward their captives: “Sing us one of the
songs of Zion!”
There is a key word that is used throughout the Bible that draws
our attention to the fact that God’s people are being mocked and
taunted, and though the word does not appear in our text, it
very well could. The term I am referring to is the small word
“Aha!” In Ezekiel 25:3, God declares that he will punish the
Amorites because “you said, ‘Aha!’ over my sanctuary when it was
profaned, and over the land of Israel when it was made desolate,
and over the house of Judah when they went into exile….” This
same mockery is displayed toward Israel in our passage.
The shame that such derision occasioned was not simply due to an
embarrassing and less-than-ideal situation, but from a tragic
consequence of Israel’s own making that cast aspersion on the
LORD, calling his love and power into question.
All who pass along the way clap their hands at you; they hiss
and wag their heads at the daughter of Jerusalem; “Is this the
city that was called the perfection of beauty, the joy of all
the earth?” Lam. 2:15
It was not that the Babylonians robbed Israel of the chance to
sing the Lord’s song, but God’s people had robbed themselves of
the opportunity. It was their own fault that they were in this
situation, and they had no one to blame but themselves.
II. What does Christian exile look like?
The apostle Peter takes up the theme of exile and applies it to
believers under the New Covenant: “Beloved, I urge you as
sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh,
which wage war against your soul” (I Pet. 2:11). We therefore,
like Israel, are in some sense “dispossessed” and bereft of a
homeland to call our own. On this score our exile is similar to
that of God’s people in Old Testament times.
Christians today have more in common with the patriarchs before
the giving of the Law, and with the exiled Jews, than we do with
Israel under the theocracy in Canaan. We, like the pilgrims of
old, are without a country to call our own. We have no place to
lay our heads, for outside the church’s walls is Babylon, a
harsh wilderness world, a city hostile to the spiritual kingdom
of which we are citizens.
Furthermore, our exile is similar in that we, like the Old
Covenant exiles, experience grief mixed with hope. Paul teaches
that we, in this present age, “groan within ourselves, being
burdened… earnestly desiring to be clothed” with immortality (II
Cor. 5:1-5; Rom. 8:22-23). Though we have been given the gift of
the Holy Spirit as a pledge and “engagement ring” who assures us
of the coming consummation, the very presence of the earnest
only heightens the ache that we experience throughout the
duration of our exile.
At this point the question can be raised, “If there are so many
points of similarity between these two exiles, how can we sing
praise when the Jews could not?” It is to this question that we
now turn.
III. Why can we sing praise when they could not?
Having seen a handful of points of similarity, we will now
consider some crucial points of difference between Old Testament
and New Testament exile.
First, our relationship with God includes no geographical
limitations or restrictions as it did in times past. To the
Samaritan woman in John 4, Jesus said that Old Covenant worship
was centered in Jerusalem and not in Samaria, for “salvation is
of the Jews.” With Christ’s coming, however, all spatial
stipulations were removed, and God’s people can gather anywhere
to worship the Father “in Spirit and truth.” This means that our
being surrounded by unbelief and animosity is not an impediment
to our worship. Our existence in a hostile and pagan culture is
no barrier to praise, but should make our praise that much
louder.
Secondly, we under the New Covenant enjoy a greater hope. The
immediate hope of the exiled Jews was for the restoration of a
theocracy that was temporal and typological. But when their
hopes were realized and they were given permission to return to
their land and rebuild their temple, there was a bittersweetness
to the blessing. We read in Ezra 3:12-13 that the ringing sound
of joyful praise was mixed with mourning and lamentation by
those who had seen the former temple in all its splendor, so
that “the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful
shout from the sound of the people’s weeping.” As miraculous and
divine as Israel’s restoration was, it was a restoration to a
situation that was but a shadowy portrait of what their hearts
truly longed for. Worship still was offered at an earthly altar.
We, on the other hand, worship God at the very foot of Mount
Zion, within the heavenly temple itself. Paul told the Athenians
that “the God who made the world… dwells not in temples made
with hands,” and the writer to the Hebrews assured his readers
that when they worship God under the New Covenant, they do not
come to a mountain that “may be touched,” but
You have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God,
the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal
gathering, and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled
in heaven, and to God, the judge of all, and to the spirits of
the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new
covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word
than the blood of Abel (12:18, 22-24).
It was the anticipation of this new day that explains why even
King Solomon, after his construction of Israel’s most glorious
temple, seemed to have his doubts. As he stood there with the
entire nation gazing at that beautiful structure, he asked
(probably muttering under his breath), “But will God indeed
dwell on the earth? Behold, heaven and the highest heaven cannot
contain you; how much less this house that I have built!” (I
Kings 8:27).
Yet the One to whom all of the Old Testament pointed was God,
and (mystery of mysteries!) he did indeed dwell on the earth. He
is our hope, who said, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I
will raise it up.” And concerning the temple in which his
kinsmen boasted, he said, “Not one stone will be left upon
another that will not be thrown down.”
And finally, unlike with the exiles under the Old Covenant, the
singing of the songs of Zion in this strange land is no source
of shame for us. Why should we not share the embarrassment that
plagued our brothers and sisters in times past? The answer is
that we are not in exile as a punishment for our own sin, as the
Jews were. Our exile, rather, is for the sake of the One whose
cross we bear and whose pattern we imitate. Like Paul and Silas,
therefore, we can sing in the midst of captivity knowing that it
is for Jesus’ sake that we are where we are (Acts 16:16-40).
He, after all, is the true Israelite who suffered the punishment
of which Jewish exile was but a type. It was against him that
the ultimate “Aha!”, that hateful expression of mockery and
scorn, was spoken:
And those who passed by derided him, wagging their heads and
saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in
three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!” So
also the chief priests with the scribes mocked him to one
another, saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself.” Mark
15:29-32
The shame that Israel felt when ridiculed by the Babylonians
became Christ’s; he “endured the cross, despising the shame.”
When we “sing the Lord’s song in a strange land,” therefore, it
is only because our guilt, our pollution, and our uncleanness
have been charged to the account of the sinless Son of Man.
He became the true and consummate exile. He suffered the
ultimate covenant curse. He was “cut off from the land of the
living.”
But unlike Adam before him, who was kept from the tree of life
by the flaming swords of the cherubim, Jesus the second Adam
gained access to God’s heavenly Sabbath rest. This he
accomplished, not by bowing to the serpent’s offer of the
kingdoms of the world, but by being willingly struck and smitten
with the sword of divine justice.
He now says to us, “To him who overcomes I will give to eat from
the tree of life, which is in the midst of the paradise of God”
(Rev. 2:7).
Conclusion
Can you sing Christ’s song in this strange, foreign land?
All the reasons that the Jewish exiles had for not singing—the
shame, the improper location—have been dealt with by our Lord
Jesus in his death and resurrection.
Even the danger that Babylon poses has been defeated, and will
be defeated:
After this I saw another angel coming down from heaven. And he
called out with a mighty voice, “Fallen, fallen is Babylon the
great! For all nations have drunk the wine of the passion of her
sexual immorality, and the kings of the earth have committed
immorality with her, and the merchants of the earth have grown
rich from the power of her luxurious living.”
And the kings of the earth will weep and wail over her when they
see the smoke of her burning. They will stand far off, in fear
of her torment, and say, “Alas! Alas! You great city, you mighty
city, Babylon! For in a single hour your judgment has come”
(Rev. 18:1-3, 9-10).
But on that Day, we will not be numbered among those who weep,
for we will hear
another voice from heaven saying, “Come out of her, my people…
Rejoice over her, O heaven, and you saints and apostles and
prophets, for God has given judgment for you against her!” (Rev.
18:4, 20).
What conceivable care therefore, or hindrance, or lust, or
stumbling block could possibly keep you from singing the LORD’s
song? From submitting to the LORD’s will? From worshiping the
LORD’s Son?
Are you preoccupied with your own comfort? Your job? The lusts
of the flesh? The approval of the Babylonians whose opinions
hold you captive?
The blessings that these things promise, when compared to the
“glory that shall be revealed in us,” are nothing, are
worthless, are rubbish, are lies.
True, exile is hard; but we’re in good company. Jesus the exile
is also Jesus the forerunner, Jesus the first fruits, Jesus the
guarantor of our final emancipation.
So Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the
people through his own blood. Therefore let us go to him outside
the camp and bear the reproach he endured. For here we have no
lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come.
Amen.
Rev. Jason J. Stellman
Pastor and Church Planter
Exile Presbyterian Church
Woodinville, WA.
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