“By the rivers of
Babylon—there we sat and there we wept when we remembered Zion”
--Psalm 137:1 NRSV
Lent gives us an
opportunity to reflect on the darker side of biblical faith. After all, it is a time of mourning as we
prepare for the joyous celebration of the resurrection and new life. And before we get to the celebration, we must
go through the desert and examine the themes of grief, loss, guilt and
exile. This year I find myself
particularly drawn to the biblical texts about Exile.
Exile.
The Biblical Exile
happened when the Babylonians invaded Judah around 586 BC and captured the best
and the brightest and brought them to live in Babylon. They had to live apart from their home.
Away from their
families.
Away from their friends.
Away from home.
It is a particularly
cruel punishment because at that time transportation wasn’t easy and more than
likely the Israelites who left were never going to be able to come back. They would never see their families or
friends or home again. They would never know what happened to those they cared
about.
They were forced to live
in a foreign land, where they did not speak the language and they did not know
the customs. Anybody who has ever spent
time in a culture different than your own knows what it feels like to not fit
in. When you don’t speak the language,
when you don’t know the customs and when you don’t understand the culture,
there is a loneliness that cannot be explained.
You are outside. You are
other. You are alien. The Israelites never overcame that feeling.
A biblical scholar once
said that “Exile is not not having a home.
It is having a home but never being able to get there.” You can imagine
home. You can remember home. You can almost see home, but you can never
get there. You can see the place where
you belong, where you fit, but will never arrive. Even though the world around you may be
filled with wonderful people, places and foods, you are never home. Even in your happiest moments you know something is missing.
Those of us who have
spent a lot of time away from home can catch a glimpse into this feeling. Although for us it may never reach the level
of the ancient Israelites, the power of Exile can affect us in ways.
We go on deployment to
new countries with a new crew and we feel the power of Exile from everything we
once knew.
We get a diagnosis of
cancer and we can feel the power of Exile stripping from us the power of
normality.
We leave our parents and
childhood home, never to return, and go off into the world and you look back
and sense the power of Exile.
As I reflect on my own
experience, I have to admit that this is where I live. My situation is not as bad as others, but
exile affects me every day.
I can see home through
pictures and messages and Facebook, but I can’t be there. This weekend my son lifted his head for the
first time and I could not be there.
This weekend is a huge celebration for my family (St. Pat’s is always
big in my house) and I will not be there.
I will see the messages and the pictures and make the phone calls, but
the physical presence of being home…of being where I belong…is gone.
This is not to say that
I do not have great people or great things out here in Japan…but it’s not home.
I live in a (for me) foreign culture where I do not speak the language and
where I cannot get the cultural norms right.
Even though I love Japanese food and art and the landscape, I am not
home. I work for a great team, but I am
not home. Even in my best moments, there
is a pervasive loneliness and sadness that echoes in my heart: I do not belong
here. I belong at home.
So as I continue my
Lenten journey, I will think about these things. I will sit by the rivers of Babylon and
weep. Because, I, like the Israelites,
live in Exile.
