Lamentations and the Work of the Messiah
Exile as Substitution
Lamentations is a book of great pain and sorrow. Yet, somehow, amidst its pain, one can detect beauty, and its sorrow is underlain by a divinely grounded hope, which briefly (and triumphantly) rises to the book’s surface in the well known refrain ‘Great is thy faithfulness!’. At the same time, the book’s lament provides us with an exquisite picture of the work and woes of Israel’s Messiah—the servant who suffers for his people.1
Chapter 1
One of the most important features to grasp in an analysis of Jeremiah’s lament is its direction of travel.
As we join Jeremiah in ch. 1, we find him (seated?) amidst Jerusalem’s ruins in what can only be described as shock horror—a Job-like character set to begin a Job-like lament.
Jeremiah’s first word is an appropriate one—eychah (איכה). How? How can things have come to such a pass? The word sums up both the extent and the incomprehensibility of Jerusalem’s fall. How she who was once mighty has fallen! And how can it have happened? How can Jerusalem—God’s own footstool—have been allowed to fall?2
As Jeremiah laments the state of the ruined city around him, he refers to it from the perspective of an observer, i.e., in the third person.
How widow-like she has become—she who was once great!
Her friends have dealt treacherously with her;
They are now her enemies…
All her gates are desolate,…
and she suffers bitterly.
With the advent of 1.9, things begin to change. Jeremiah’s lament is punctuated by an imperative as Jeremiah speaks in the first person directly to God:
She took no thought of/for her future, and so her fall is terrible. She has no comforter. ‘O YHWH, behold my affliction!’… She has seen the nations enter her sanctuary…
The same thing happens in 1.11:
All her people groan… They trade their treasure for bread… ‘Look, O YHWH, and see, for I am despised!’
Then, in 1.12, Jeremiah continues his lament in the first person. Oddly, he describes his state by means of grammatically feminine forms--‘despised’ (זוֹלֵלָה), ‘faint’ (דָּוָה), ‘tearful’ (בּוֹכִיָּה). In literary terms, therefore, Jeremiah puts himself in the place of the text’s sufferer—i.e., the city—and speaks on her behalf. He talks about ‘mighty men in my midst’ and ‘my young men who have gone into captivity’. And he reformulates his previous statement about Jerusalem’s desolation (‘There is no-one to comfort her!’) in the first person, i.e., as ‘There is no-one to comfort *me*!’.
As such, Jeremiah enters into the city’s pains. He personally embodies its sorrows. He even takes on its guilt. In the context of his lament, ‘her transgressions’ become *his* transgressions (1.5, 14, 22).
As we will see, these details are not *merely* literary. For the moment, however, let us continue to follow the direction of travel of Jeremiah’s lament and see where it leads us.
Chapter 2
Ch. 2 opens in the same manner as ch. 1, i.e., with the now familiar word eychah (איכה).
Jeremiah pours out his soul much as he does in ch. 1, but with a difference in emphasis: he does not simply describe the city’s ruined state; he describes it as the result of God’s providence—and particularly of God’s ‘wrath’. YHWH is the subject of almost every verb in 2.1–8, and the majority of them contain a reference to God’s wrath/fury/fire. It is *God* who has broken down the city’s strongholds, *God* who has disgraced its rulers, etc.
With the advent of verse 11, things begin to change, just as they did in ch. 1. The word ‘my’ enters the lament, and Jeremiah talks explicitly about his own personal grief. ‘My eyes are spent’, he says, ‘and my stomach churns…because of the destruction of the daughter of my people. My innards are poured out!’
Afterwards, Jeremiah speaks to the city of Jerusalem and expresses a desire to comfort her.
What can I say for you,…O daughter of Jerusalem?
What can I liken to you, so I might comfort you…?
Who can heal you?
Yet Jeremiah cannot ultimately offer Jerusalem any succour. All he can tell her to do is mourn for herself. ‘O wall of the daughter of Zion’, he says, ‘Let tears stream down like a torrent day and night! Pour out your heart like water before the presence of YHWH!’
Ch. 2 thus marks an important development in Jeremiah’s lament. Jeremiah enters into his city’s pain more deeply than before. He is physically moved by his sorrow for Jerusalem. He weeps; his stomach churns; his insides are in turmoil. He longs to comfort Jerusalem, but cannot do so.
Chapter 3
In ch. 3, Jeremiah continues to describe his pain. Significantly, however, he does so by means of imagery which is highly evocative of Jerusalem’s exile. He describes himself as someone who has been besieged, starved, abandoned, bound in chains, mocked by his enemies, and shut out from God’s presence (3.1–14). Ostensibly, therefore, Jeremiah’s lament describes what the city of Jerusalem has undergone, yet Jeremiah applies it to *himself*. Hence, whereas ch. 1’s language is grammatically feminine, ch. 3’s is masculine: while Jerusalem is a city of affliction (a feminine noun), Jeremiah is ‘a *man* of affliction’; and, while Jerusalem is shomeyma = ‘desolate’ (a feminine form), Jeremiah is shomeym = ‘desolate’ (the masculine equivalent) (cp. 1.13, 3.11).
The outset of ch. 2 thus marks a further development in Jeremiah’s lament. Jeremiah does not merely describe Jerusalem or speak on her behalf or express his sorrow for her; he says he has been through the very things Jerusalem has been through. He feels the city’s pain. He personally embodies her sorrows. And Jeremiah’s statements are not *merely* symbolic/literary. Jeremiah has indeed experienced the things he describes. In the course of his ministry, and as a direct result of it, he has been bound in chains, led captive, starved of food, abandoned, and mocked by his enemies. He has even been told not to pray for his people, and feels as if God has deceived him (Jer. 7.16, etc., 20.7).
The text of ch. 3 thus describes a remarkable aspect of Jeremiah’s ministry. In and through his ministry, Jeremiah underwent—and ultimately overcame—what his people deserved to undergo. That is to say, God laid the consequences of Jerusalem’s sin upon Jeremiah. In 587 BC, God bent his bow against Jerusalem, yet before that he made *Jeremiah* the target of his arrow (2.4, 3.12). Just as he assigned Jerusalem bitter food and drink (לַעֲנָה ורֹאשׁ), so he previously filled *Jeremiah* with wormwood (לַעֲנָה) and poison (רֹאשׁ) (Jer. 9.15, 23.15, Lam. 1.4, 3.15, 19). What the city bore, Jeremiah bore, not merely as a result of life in a fallen world, but as a result of God’s wrath (cp. 3.38+). Such statements are not theologically motivated constructions which have to be read back into Jeremiah’s text; they are precisely what Jeremiah tells us. ‘I am a man…under the rod of (YHWH’s) wrath’, he says:
(YHWH) bent his bow and made me a target for his arrow!…
He filled me with bitterness;
He ‘satisfied’ my thirst with wormwood!
Of particular note is the *separation* between Jeremiah and his God reflected in ch. 3’s lament. While chs. 1–2 contain a total of 24 references to God (אֲדֹנָי/יהוה), the text of 3.1–21 contains only one, whose purpose is to reflect Jeremiah’s sense of abandonment (‘My hope in YHWH has perished!). Jeremiah was led like a lamb to the slaughter (Jer. 11.19) and made the object of divine wrath (3.1).
A Christological Interpretation
Needless to say, Jeremiah’s experiences foreshadow those of the Messiah in a number of extraordinary ways. Especially significant are the parallels between Jeremiah and Jesus’ various prophecies/laments over Jerusalem.
Just as Jeremiah foresaw trouble for Jerusalem, so too did Jesus. He even quoted from Jeremiah in his condemnation of Jerusalem’s leaders. (‘You have made my house a den of robbers!’)
The Gospel of Luke brings out these parallels with particular clarity. Jesus could see dark clouds on Jerusalem’s horizon (given the innocent blood on her hands) (cp. Luke 11.49+, 12.54+ w. Lam. 4.14+). Just as Jeremiah’s Jerusalem would be besieged, torn down, and left desolate, so too would the Jerusalem of Jesus’ day (13.34+, 19.41+). And, just as Jeremiah described the city’s fall as the result of God’s wrath, so too did Jesus. What would overtake Jerusalem would not be a by-product of life in a fallen world; it would be ‘the time of Jerusalem’s visitation’ and ‘the days of (God’s) vengeance’ (19.41+, 21.19+).
Also noteworthy is the grief felt by Jeremiah and Jesus at the thought of Jerusalem’s destruction. Jeremiah wept. He wished he could rewrite Jerusalem’s future, yet he could not do so, and so he exhorted Jerusalem to weep for herself (as well as for her children).
What can I say for you, O Jerusalem?…
Who can heal you?…
Let tears stream down like a torrent day and night!
Lift your hands to the Lord for the lives of your children!
In much the same way, Jesus wept. And, unable to avert Jerusalem’s destruction, he too exhorted Jerusalem to weep for herself and her children.
Had you only known the things necessary for your peace, O Jerusalem!
Yet now they are hidden from your eyes (19.42)
Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me,
but weep for yourselves and for your children!
For the days have come when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren’! (23.28)
The parallels between Jeremiah and Jesus, however, run much deeper. Like Jeremiah, Jesus suffered the disaster due to befall Jerusalem, and he did so ahead of time.
For Jesus, the day of Jerusalem’s fall was a day of wrath—a day characterised by betrayal, desolation, misdirection, hatred, earthquakes, dark skies, etc. (Matt. 24.7+). And all these things were involved in Jesus’ crucifixion. Jesus was betrayed, abandoned by his followers, slandered, condemned. The skies grew dark. The earth shook. And, on Golgotha’s hill, Jesus bore Jerusalem’s sorrows. Like Jeremiah, Jesus was a green and fruitful tree, hated without cause, whom his people sought to destroy (Jer. 11.16, 19, 17.8, Lam. 3.52). And, in the latter days, both Jeremiah and Jesus’ generation would see ‘what would happen in the dry’ (Jer. 21.14, Lam. 4.8, Luke 23.38).
Like Jeremiah, then, Jesus underwent what his people deserved to undergo, namely the wrath of God. He embodied the fate of Jerusalem, which he was perfectly qualified to do, since he *is* the embodiment of Jerusalem—the man upon whom YHWH has set his name (John 6.27).
With the above backdrop in mind, we can identify an array of parallels between the judgment of Jerusalem (per Lamentations) and Jesus’ crucifixion (per the Gospels).
Just as Jerusalem is betrayed by her friends, so too is Jesus (1.2).
Just as Jerusalem is handed over to the Gentiles, so too is Jesus (1.3, Luke 18.31).
And, just as YHWH weaves a yoke out of Jerusalem’s sins and places it around her neck, so the Gentiles weave a crown of thorns (creation’s curse) and place it on Jesus’ brow (1.14).
As the two stories unfold further, the parallels continue to accumulate.
Jerusalem’s enemies gloat over their captive, just as Jesus’ do. Some of them even ‘wag their head’ as they pass by. The death of the Messiah is nothing to them (1.7, 12, 2.15) (לוֹא אֲלֵיכֶם?).
‘Is *this* the city known as the perfection of beauty?’, they ask (2.15), in a distinctly Pilate-esque manner (cp. ‘Are *you* the King of the Jews?’).
And, just as Zion ‘stretches out her arms/hands’ and prepares herself to endure what God has decreed, so too does Jesus (1.17), naked, desolate, and without comfort (1.8).
Jerusalem’s sorrows thus become Jesus’ sorrows. And the parallels extend further, since, on the cross, Jesus’ experiences begin to dovetail with those of Jeremiah in ch. 3’s lament.
Darkness closes in (3.2). The heavens grow silent (cp. 3.8 with Matt. 27.46’s ‘Lema sabachthani?’). The soldiers satiate Jesus’ thirst with wormwood and gall (3.15). An arrow is driven into Jesus’ side (cp. ‘He drove his arrows into my kidneys’: 3.13). And Jesus is left ‘like the dead of long ago’, his body surrounded by blocks of stone (3.6, 9).
And yet, mercifully, the story does not end there, since Jeremiah’s lament does not end in the gloom of 3.1–20. Amidst the despair, light begins to dawn. Mentioned only once in 3.1–20, the name of God (אֲדֹנָי/יהוה) resurfaces in the text. The pangs of the first person are replaced by a series of transcendent statements about the character of God. The words ‘mercy’ and ‘hope’ occur for the first time (3.21+). (‘But this I recall to my mind, and thus I have hope!’) And, gradually, a confidence in God’s goodness is rekindled in Jeremiah’s soul. (‘The steadfast love of YHWH never ceases!’) The mercies of the Lord have not run out; they are renewed each time the day is renewed! And it is good, Jeremiah says, for a man to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord—to entrust himself to the goodness of God (3.22+, 58+).3
In the context of the book of Lamentations, Jeremiah’s confession signifies life from the dead, which is equally true of Jesus’ cry in Luke 23.46, viz., ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!’.
Jesus does not merely bear Jerusalem’s sins down into the grave; he buries them there, in the depths of the sea, rises from the grave, and, as the one whom God has made both Lord and Christ, offers Jerusalem new life.
And so, in response to Jerusalem’s question, ‘Is there any sorrow (מַכְאוֹב) like my sorrow (מַכְאֹבִי)?’ (1.12), we can answer ‘Yes’. Jesus’ sorrow was like Jerusalem’s sorrow. Jesus was a man of sorrows (אִישׁ מַכְאֹבוֹת), who bore our sorrows (מַכְאֹבֵינוּ) as YHWH laid them on him (Isa. 53.3+).4 And yet after ‘his soul served as a sacrifice for sin’, YHWH chose to prolong his servant’s days (53.10). Hence, out of the anguish of his soul, Jesus saw, and was satisfied. And by a knowledge of him many can be made righteous (53.11).
Image by Paul Wang from Fine Art America.
The first word God says to Adam after his fall is a revocalisation of eychah’s consonants (איכה), viz. ayyekkah. ‘Where are you?’. It too concerns a loss of incomprehensible magnitude.
Note how 3.27-28 reworks the vocabulary and sentiments of ch. 1. In ch. 1, Jeremiah bemoaned how the city’s transgression had been ‘woven into a yoke’ and ‘set upon its neck’, yet, in 3.27, he accepts ‘it is good for a man to bear the yoke’. And, in ch. 1, Jeremiah bemoaned how the city sat alone (יָשְׁבָה בָדָד), yet, in 3.28, he accepts it is good for a man to sit alone in silence (יֵשֵׁב בָּדָד).
In his comments on Isaiah 53.12, Ibn Ezra identifies the much discussed ‘servant’ of Isaiah 53 with Jeremiah (after the example of Saadia Gaon) and takes God to have ‘laid his people’s sin’ upon him (cp. below). That certain aspects of Isaiah 53 resonate with the ministry of Jeremiah seems correct. Many figures in Israel’s history have suffered both for and because of their people’s sin. Moses suffered because of his people’s sin and offered to be blotted out of God’s book in order to atone for it (Exod. 32.30); Elijah likewise suffered because of his people’s sin as he laboured to purge Israel of idolatry (cp. 1 Kgs. 18+); the same is true of of Jeremiah (as we have seen); and what Israel’s past leaders achieved in part will no doubt be achieved in full by the Messiah. As Christians, then, we need not necessarily disagree with the claims of Ibn Ezra (and/or Saadia Gaon): Jeremiah is one of a number of Israelites who bore their people’s sin and thus did their people good. The important point to appreciate, however, is as follows: Jeremiah’s ministry has now ended, and it did not ‘make an end’ of sin (Dan. 9.24), nor did it ‘make many righteous’ (Isa. 53.11), since Jeremiah was himself a sinner (Psa. 130.3, Eccl. 7.20). What fundamentally divides Christians and non-Christians, therefore, is not the issue of whether men like Jeremiah are foreshadowed in Isaiah 53, but whether Jesus is the Messiah whose ministry represents the full, final, and flawless culmination of the ministry of Jeremiah (and others like him), and I here argue it did.
הגאון רב סעדיה ז׳׳ל פירש כל הפרשה על ירמיה ויפה פירש וטעם יזה גוים רבים בפיו בדרך נבואתו, כיונק לפניו גם כתב בתחלת ספרו (ירמיה א׳ י׳) כי קטן היה כאשר נתנבא, ויי הפגיע בו והוא חטא רבים נשא כי כן כתוב זכר עמדי לפניך לבקש עליהם טובה [שם י׳׳ח כ׳], כשה לטבח יובל וכן כתוב ואני ככבש אלוף יובל לטבח [שם י׳׳א י׳׳ט].
Appreciate your work sir. Always insightfully edifying!