Sunday, October 12, 2025
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Jeremiah 29:1,4-7
These are the words of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to the remaining elders among the exiles and to the priests, the prophets, and all the people whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon.
Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, I refused to imagine the unimaginable. I knew that there was some kind of trouble downtown, but refused to believe that it could be that bad. And so I left for work. The subways were out of service and so I boarded a cross-town bus, but it barely moved. The streets were jammed with traffic. After a while, the bus driver announced that the planes that had hit the World Trade Center were actually passenger planes. A few very slow blocks later, he told us that a plane had also flown into the Pentagon and that the White House had been evacuated. And it was at that moment that I finally understood that the unimaginable was actually happening.
Now imagine, if you can, a day even worse than that. Imagine an invading army marching into Washington. Imagine all the elected leaders, from the President to the Supreme Court Justices to the members of Congress being shackled and marched through the streets and led away. Imagine all the universities being closed and the professors disappearing. Imagine the news media going silent. Imagine the sense of fear and dread and hopelessness that would descend upon those of us who were left behind.
That is exactly what happened in the year 597 BC. The Babylonian army invaded and conquered the southern kingdom of Judah. Its magnificent capital, Jerusalem the Golden, was ransacked. The best and the brightest were taken away. A puppet king was installed. A conquering army ruled by martial law. One day, life was as it had always been. The next day, life would never be the same.
On September 11, many people wondered: “Where was God?” In 597 BC, the people of Judah wondered: “Where was God?” Whenever we face calamity, this is often the first question we ask.
Some people answer that question by deciding that they have been abandoned by God, or worse. That’s what the people of Judah believed when Babylon marched into town. And here’s why.
We often hear that ancient Jewish people were monotheistic, but monotheism was an evolving idea. At this particular time in their history, they were likely something called monolatrous, meaning that while they only worshipped one God, whom they believed to be the most powerful, they also believed that other gods existed. And each region had its own god or gods. And that meant that their God, Yahweh, lived in the Temple in Jerusalem. But now the exiles were 900 miles away from where God lived. And they felt abandoned.
And the people left in Jerusalem also felt abandoned because they now believed that Yahweh had not been powerful enough to prevent this disaster. And that means that maybe, just maybe, the Babylonian gods were more powerful.
And so, they looked for answers. And in Jerusalem, there were two prophets who claimed they had the answer. The only problem was, they didn’t have the same answer.
The first one was, Hananiah, who said that God would end the exile within two years. Well, that’s exactly what the people wanted to hear! We can all put up with suffering as long as there is an expiration date! And so, old Hananiah was popular. But Hananiah, as it turns out, was a false prophet, doing what false prophets always do: telling us exactly what we want to hear, instead of what we actually need to hear.
Jeremiah, on the other hand, had a very different message and one they most certainly did not want to hear. And it goes like this: “Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”
When we suffer, who wants to make peace with the present moment or situation? And when we are persecuted, who wants to pray for our enemies? And so, the more Jeremiah told them to settle in for the long haul, the more they resisted. They did not want to build houses and plant gardens and have children and work for the common welfare of the people who had done them harm. What they wanted was for everything to go back to the way it had been. Well, don’t we all?
Jeremiah’s words were a bitter pill. But didn’t we all learn as children that it’s often the bitter pill that can often make us well; that there can be healing and growth, even in the midst of suffering.
And that’s what happened to the exiles. First of all, notice that in instructing the exiles to pray for the city and its inhabitants, it meant that Yahweh was not just some tribal god, limited to Jerusalem. It meant that Yahweh was Lord of the whole earth – even the Lord of Babylon. And so, their view of God expanded.
Second, this God, whom they had always feared as a God of terrible vengeance, was actually also full of mercy for enemies. This God wanted them to pray for the welfare of all – even those they hated. And their view of the love and mercy of God expanded.
Would they have learned these important lessons outside of a crucible? Who knows? How often do we learn when life is good and God is superfluous?
But light can come from darkness. And goodness can come from suffering. But like the exiles, we cannot begin to heal until we learn to accept where we actually are. No matter how bleak, there are still houses to build, and gardens to plant, and children to raise.
But the spiritual life is not simply about the acceptance of those things we cannot change. It’s also about the courage to change the things we can; to be open to personal change even while exiled. And here’s what I mean. We could actually do what Jesus told us to: love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us.
Isn’t that exactly what Jeremiah told the exiles? “Seek the welfare of the city,” he said. “Seek the welfare of your neighbors. See the good for that place you would rather not be, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”
The false prophets of our day urge us to live lives of perpetual anger. They encourage our bitterness and rage. They want us to hate our neighbors. They seek to keep us divided. But that message is never, ever the word of the Lord.
The exiles eventually did what Jeremiah told them. They accepted those things they could not change. They found the courage to change the things they could. And they bloomed where they were planted. They shared the abundance of their gardens with their Babylonian neighbors. They exchanged greetings and recipes. Their children played together; even married one another. And eventually, the exiles learned what we all must learn: that there is no place where God is not; that the mercy of the Lord is deep and endless. And that no matter where we are; no matter how long the exile, we can always, always, always do some good.
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Jeremiah 29:1,4-7
These are the words of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to the remaining elders among the exiles and to the priests, the prophets, and all the people whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon.
Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, I refused to imagine the unimaginable. I knew that there was some kind of trouble downtown, but refused to believe that it could be that bad. And so I left for work. The subways were out of service and so I boarded a cross-town bus, but it barely moved. The streets were jammed with traffic. After a while, the bus driver announced that the planes that had hit the World Trade Center were actually passenger planes. A few very slow blocks later, he told us that a plane had also flown into the Pentagon and that the White House had been evacuated. And it was at that moment that I finally understood that the unimaginable was actually happening.
Now imagine, if you can, a day even worse than that. Imagine an invading army marching into Washington. Imagine all the elected leaders, from the President to the Supreme Court Justices to the members of Congress being shackled and marched through the streets and led away. Imagine all the universities being closed and the professors disappearing. Imagine the news media going silent. Imagine the sense of fear and dread and hopelessness that would descend upon those of us who were left behind.
That is exactly what happened in the year 597 BC. The Babylonian army invaded and conquered the southern kingdom of Judah. Its magnificent capital, Jerusalem the Golden, was ransacked. The best and the brightest were taken away. A puppet king was installed. A conquering army ruled by martial law. One day, life was as it had always been. The next day, life would never be the same.
On September 11, many people wondered: “Where was God?” In 597 BC, the people of Judah wondered: “Where was God?” Whenever we face calamity, this is often the first question we ask.
Some people answer that question by deciding that they have been abandoned by God, or worse. That’s what the people of Judah believed when Babylon marched into town. And here’s why.
We often hear that ancient Jewish people were monotheistic, but monotheism was an evolving idea. At this particular time in their history, they were likely something called monolatrous, meaning that while they only worshipped one God, whom they believed to be the most powerful, they also believed that other gods existed. And each region had its own god or gods. And that meant that their God, Yahweh, lived in the Temple in Jerusalem. But now the exiles were 900 miles away from where God lived. And they felt abandoned.
And the people left in Jerusalem also felt abandoned because they now believed that Yahweh had not been powerful enough to prevent this disaster. And that means that maybe, just maybe, the Babylonian gods were more powerful.
And so, they looked for answers. And in Jerusalem, there were two prophets who claimed they had the answer. The only problem was, they didn’t have the same answer.
The first one was, Hananiah, who said that God would end the exile within two years. Well, that’s exactly what the people wanted to hear! We can all put up with suffering as long as there is an expiration date! And so, old Hananiah was popular. But Hananiah, as it turns out, was a false prophet, doing what false prophets always do: telling us exactly what we want to hear, instead of what we actually need to hear.
Jeremiah, on the other hand, had a very different message and one they most certainly did not want to hear. And it goes like this: “Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”
When we suffer, who wants to make peace with the present moment or situation? And when we are persecuted, who wants to pray for our enemies? And so, the more Jeremiah told them to settle in for the long haul, the more they resisted. They did not want to build houses and plant gardens and have children and work for the common welfare of the people who had done them harm. What they wanted was for everything to go back to the way it had been. Well, don’t we all?
Jeremiah’s words were a bitter pill. But didn’t we all learn as children that it’s often the bitter pill that can often make us well; that there can be healing and growth, even in the midst of suffering.
And that’s what happened to the exiles. First of all, notice that in instructing the exiles to pray for the city and its inhabitants, it meant that Yahweh was not just some tribal god, limited to Jerusalem. It meant that Yahweh was Lord of the whole earth – even the Lord of Babylon. And so, their view of God expanded.
Second, this God, whom they had always feared as a God of terrible vengeance, was actually also full of mercy for enemies. This God wanted them to pray for the welfare of all – even those they hated. And their view of the love and mercy of God expanded.
Would they have learned these important lessons outside of a crucible? Who knows? How often do we learn when life is good and God is superfluous?
But light can come from darkness. And goodness can come from suffering. But like the exiles, we cannot begin to heal until we learn to accept where we actually are. No matter how bleak, there are still houses to build, and gardens to plant, and children to raise.
But the spiritual life is not simply about the acceptance of those things we cannot change. It’s also about the courage to change the things we can; to be open to personal change even while exiled. And here’s what I mean. We could actually do what Jesus told us to: love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us.
Isn’t that exactly what Jeremiah told the exiles? “Seek the welfare of the city,” he said. “Seek the welfare of your neighbors. See the good for that place you would rather not be, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”
The false prophets of our day urge us to live lives of perpetual anger. They encourage our bitterness and rage. They want us to hate our neighbors. They seek to keep us divided. But that message is never, ever the word of the Lord.
The exiles eventually did what Jeremiah told them. They accepted those things they could not change. They found the courage to change the things they could. And they bloomed where they were planted. They shared the abundance of their gardens with their Babylonian neighbors. They exchanged greetings and recipes. Their children played together; even married one another. And eventually, the exiles learned what we all must learn: that there is no place where God is not; that the mercy of the Lord is deep and endless. And that no matter where we are; no matter how long the exile, we can always, always, always do some good.
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