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September 23, 2007
Jeremiah 8:18-22The Rev. Dr. David A. Davis
“Broken-hearted Prophet, Broken-hearted God”“Is there no balm in Gilead?” Balm in Gilead. That’s what catches the ear in this reading from Jeremiah, here in the Old Testament. Balm in Gilead. It kind of sneaks up on you as you’re listening, as you’re reading along. A familiar phrase that jumps from the page, tickles the ear. An oracle of the prophet Jeremiah, it’s not the easiest to follow when it comes to biblical literature. Not the easiest to read. Not the easiest to listen to: who is doing the speaking, when one speaker changes to another, more than a bit of the history of ancient Israel tucked into the references and symbolism. So when something comes along that’s a bit familiar, balm in Gilead, you kind of grab onto it.
Of course, the truth is, you and I, when it comes to “the balm in Gilead” we’re more familiar with the statement rather than the question. “There is a balm in Gilead, to make the wounded whole. There is a balm in Gilead, to heal the sin-sick soul.” Most of us were first introduced to “the balm in Gilead” through the old spiritual. For most of us, the phrase, it comes complete with a tune attached, like a twenty second sample that you click on in the i-tunes library. Who knew that “the balm of Gilead” was actually an Old Testament reference, from the Book of Jeremiah? Long before the poet/songwriter came up with “If you cannot preach like Peter, If you cannot pray like Paul, you can tell the love of Jesus, and say ‘he died for all’. There is a balm in Gilead…” Long before the faithful were singing that tune, “the balm of Gilead” showed up in an oracle of the prophet Jeremiah.
Here in Jeremiah, the people of God were coming face to face with the depth of their suffering and the pending destruction at the hands of their enemy. In the verses of the oracle, the part of the poetry that comes just before what I have read to you, the people lift up their lament. “Why do we sit still? Gather together, let us go into the fortified cities and perish there. (8:14)” They are convinced it is God’s judgment. They look for peace, but none is to be found. “A time for healing, but there is terror instead. (8:15)” The devastation will come from the north, mighty armies will come. The sounds of snorting horses can be heard. The land shakes with the rush of the stallions. And, according to the prophet, the very real threat from the north comes with a word of judgment from God. “See, I am letting snakes loose among you, adders that cannot be charmed and they shall bite you, says the Lord. (8:17)”
And the oracle continues with what I have already read. Let’s try again. Whether it is the prophet’s voice or the very voice of the Lord remains a bit ambiguous, something of an intentional blur. “My joy is gone, grief is upon me, my heart is sick. Hark, the cry of my poor people from far and wide in the land.”
They cry out and they say “is the Lord not in Zion? Is her king not in her?” God offers the parenthetical thought, the rhetorical response. “Why have they provoked me to anger with images, with their foreign idols?”
The lament of the people continues, not so much in response to the question of God, but more as a reflection on the length and the depth of their despair. “The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.”
Back then to the voice of the God in and through the prophet’s voice. “For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt, I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me. Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the health of my poor people not been restored?
“Is there no balm in Gilead?” The question comes from the prophet. The question comes from God. “My joy is gone, grief is upon me, my heart is sick.” That hurt, that brokenness, is voiced by the prophet, voiced by God. Dissecting the poetry isn’t all that easy. Trying to wrap our heads around the history, the violent battles, the total destruction of cities is even harder. Add in then, the people’s despair and lament, and their covenantal identity as the people of God, and the biblical text making theological connection of suffering and devastation to sin and disobedience, well, then it’s even more difficult to understand.
So when you hear “balm in Gilead”, of course you want to hang on to it, take it in, a kind of comfort food for the ear. But when it comes to the “balm in Gilead”, the prophet’s heart is the one broken. God’s heart is the one broken here, broken by the faithlessness and suffering of God’s own people.
Just as the rampaging armies were coming from the north, so too, Gilead was to the north, to the north and the east of Jerusalem. Just on the other side of the Jordan River, it was a fertile land with lots of mountains and trees. This balm, this resin came from a particular kind of tree, and it was used for healing purposes. Apparently the balm was fairly well-known; used throughout the region to bring physical relief, for medicinal purposes, for the healing of the body. A popular remedy, perhaps, for what ails you. Apparently, even a broken heart?
Edgar Allen Poe understood as much in his famous poem The Raven. That conversation “once a midnight dreary” with the “ungainly fowel” that came tapping at the door. The conversation was a lament for lost love. The lost love of “the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore.”
Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."Edgar Allan Poe understood that the balm of Gilead was intended for a broken heart.
When I was in Israel last June, as we visited one archeological site after another, we kept seeing the remains of first century ritual bathes. The bath is called a mikvah. The ritual purification was intended for women and for men at various times in the daily, weekly, and monthly routines of life and faith; at the beginning of Shabbat for instance, or before ascending to the Temple Mount. We saw one mikvah after another. One morning an Israeli archeologist was showing us his work on a site he believes is the Pool of Siloam mentioned by Jesus in the 9th chapter of the Gospel of John. He suggested it might be antiquitie’s largest mikvah (ritual bath).This group of Princeton Seminary graduate pastors, we were having trouble understanding the mikvah and its importance. That morning there were several questions to our host about purification and the purpose of the bath and finally with a bit exasperation, he laid it out for us. “Look, the mikvah has nothing to do with hygiene, cleanliness, or health. It is about ritual purification.” He went on to mention the irony that in ancient days the water of the mikvah intended for purification probably spread all kinds of illness and skin disease. It wasn’t about health.
On the other hand, the “balm in Gilead” had everything to do with health. It wasn’t about purification at all. It was intended for the healing of wounds. The “balm in Gilead” wasn’t for religious practice, it was for the restoration of health. I figure if it had historic religious connotations, “balm in Gilead” would be all through the sacred pages of scripture. There is one other reference in Genesis. Joseph was sold by his brothers to a caravan of Ismaelites on camels who were carrying gum, balm, and resin. They were from Gilead. No, the reference to the rather mysterious healing and medicinal “balm in Gilead” occurs only once in scripture. Here in the oracle of Jeremiah (8:22). Look, the balm in Gilead has nothing to do with religious practice or ritual purification, it is about life; healing life, restoring life. “Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there?” And deep in the church’s heart, there’s this tune that starts to play.
It would appear that there is little consensus among scholars and commentators about what to do with the “balm in Gilead.” One writer points out that if there is any hope to be found in this rhetorical couplet in the oracle of Jeremiah, it is that everyone knows the answer to the question is going to be “yes”. Another suggests that the question only adds to the prophet’s lament. The hopelessness of pending devastation included the destruction of the “rich and fertile” land of Gilead. Preachers like me, most of us, I guess, would find ourselves, not over with Edgar Allen Poe, but back in the choir, following the lead of the African American poet, offering not a question, but a statement. “There is a balm in Gilead”. When the church comes upon the one reference to the “balm in Gilead” in all of scripture, of course, it sounds so familiar, and we point to Jesus.
When God’s heart is the one broken, when God mourns both the fate and the state of God’s people, when the lament about suffering and devastation in the world is coming from God, the balm is not simply that the people get more religious, the mending is far beyond ritual, healing for the heart of God is found in the restoration of life, in the thirst for righteousness, in the longing for justice. The tradition of the Hebrew prophets and the call for abundant life for all of God’s people. Amos. Micah. Isaiah. And Jeremiah and the balm. The balm of Gilead heals the gaping wounds and makes the wounded whole. Healing for the heart of God, it comes not just with fasting and prayer. But with a fast intended to “loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke.” A fast intended to feed the hungry and provided housing for the homeless and clothe the naked (Is 58). Healing for the heart of God; swords into plowshares, doing justice, loving kindness, walking humbly with God, justice rolling down like waters, righteousness like and ever-flowing streams. The prophets’ voice. The voice of God. The “balm of Gilead” has everything to do with life.
“Long ago God spoke to our ancesters in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son.” That’s the very first verse of the Book of Hebrews in the New Testament. Nobody knows who the writer was. It’s one of the anonymous parts of scripture. The biblical author is a lot like the poet/song writer who gave us that tune that keeps playing down so deep. Standing in the prophetic tradition and pointing to Jesus. His life, his teaching, his preaching, his healing, his concern for the poor, his challenge to power, his distaste for just being religious, his welcome of sinners, his touch of the unclean, his life, his death, his resurrection.
Standing in the prophetic tradition with God pointing. There. There. There….is the balm in Gilead.
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