I do not know about you, but I do not think I would want to hear the call of God in quite the way Jeremiah heard it. Listen to verse 9 and 10 again: Then the Lord stretched out his hand, touched my mouth, and said to me, “I’m putting my words in your mouth. This very day I appoint you over nations and empires, to dig up and pull down, to destroy and demolish, to build and plant.”
I, God, am putting the words in your mouth to 
speak about pain and promise. To give voice to the pain and promise my people are experiencing. It will never be an easy task and we will see Jeremiah speak to both in ways that will feel punishing and hard but also encouraging. So, it will always be helpful to remember that Jeremiah is speaking to a people who have been immersed in the violence of occupation, war, brutality and eventually for some, exile. He is speaking to a people – a community not just individuals – who continually break the covenant God had made with them centuries before. And, maybe, just maybe he is helping them to find their voice to express their pain and grief at both.
But we will also see Jeremiah speaking about a new covenant that God is crafting with the people. As Walter Brueggemann, may he rest in peace, wrote in his commentary on Jeremiah: “its main thrust concerns the ending of beloved Jerusalem…and the formation of a new beloved Jerusalem.”[1] And, guess what – God is engaged in both.
Several chapters later in what is known as Jeremiah’s Temple Sermon, he addresses the people (perhaps totally uninvited to do so). Hear his words as translated in the Common English Bible:
Jeremiah received the Lord’s word: Stand near the gate of the Lord’s temple and proclaim there this message: Listen to the Lord’s word, all you of Judah who enter these gates to worship the Lord. This is what the Lord of heavenly forces, the God of Israel, says: Improve your conduct and your actions, and I will dwell with you in this place. Don’t trust in lies: “This is the Lord’s temple! The Lord’s temple! The Lord’s temple!”
No, if you truly reform your ways and your actions; if you treat each other justly; if you stop taking advantage of the immigrant, orphan, or widow; if you don’t shed the blood of the innocent in this place, or go after other gods to your own ruin, only then will I dwell with you in this place, in the land that I gave long ago to your ancestors for all time.
And yet you trust in lies that will only hurt you. Will you steal and murder, commit adultery and perjury, sacrifice to Baal and go after other gods that you don’t know, and then come and stand before me in this temple that bears my name, and say, “We are safe,” only to keep on doing all these detestable things? Do you regard this temple, which bears my name, as a hiding place for criminals? I can see what’s going on here, declares the Lord.
Ouch! Here is this nuisance prophet disturbing the worshipers. You can almost hear them: go away Jeremiah, we don’t want to hear what you have to say! Go away, you are making us uncomfortable! Ever feel that way?
But imagine being Jeremiah! Fr. Richard Rohr in his book: The Tears of Things, writes this about Jeremiah: “Who would not be reluctant when given the burden of delivering a constant, urgent message of violence and ruin (Jeremiah 20:8, JB) to people who in no way wanted to hear anything other than happily ever-after stories?”[2] Think about it, if you are facing impending danger or you see violence, grief, pain and oppression creeping in all around you, do you want to hear the message of violence and ruin, or the happily ever-after stories? Which ones do you think would give you hope?
Maybe, just maybe in hearing Jeremiah’s words, we find some hope amid the message of violence and ruin. Let’s paraphrase his words: you haven’t honored the covenant – the Temple leadership is corrupt and yet you still follow, you’ve worshiped other gods, you’ve broken all the commandments which has disrupted your relationship with God and with each other – yet there is hope. Amend your ways, act justly with one another, don’t oppress the immigrant, the orphan or the widow, don’t worship other gods. Return to me.
During times of pain and suffering, stay with me, for I have not left you. But isn’t that a hard message to hear if you are grieving, if you have suffered unspeakable violence and brutality, if you have been left in a place of no hope. Do you have words for how that feels? Can you express anger and sadness and grief like Jeremiah does? Can you find in his words, your words, that describe anger and sadness and grief?
We have been through a lot in the past decade. This church has experienced a schism leaving many grieving and angry. The pandemic disrupted our lives in so many ways, and in the early days there was so much uncertainty, death, isolation and loneliness, horrible arguments over masking and vaccinations and distancing, that we are still recovering from. We don’t know exactly what the future holds for this building and campus. We have experienced much change here.
On the national and world scene, there are wars and people, especially children, are suffering. There is so much anger and hate being promoted by our current administration that I sometimes feel so overwhelmed. And, I don’t know that I have the words to express my own grief and pain, or what even my prayer to God should be.
In her book on prayer, The Breath of the Soul, Sr. Joan Chittester writes this in a section entitled Acceptance: “Prayer is the gift of being able to put my life into the hands of God – and trust the path that opens before me. Whether I think I would have wanted it or not.”[3]
If we are feeling pain and grief, if we are suffering as a community or as individuals, are we still able to feel the promise of putting our lives into the hands of God and trust the path that opens before us. Maybe, just maybe, that is what Jeremiah is asking us to do. To confess our pain and our grief as a community of faith and as individuals, and to find hope in putting our lives into the hands of God. Maybe, just maybe, by doing that we will find our voice to express our pain and still hold the promise of being in covenant with God. Maybe, just maybe, we will give voice to a growing trust in God. Maybe, just maybe. Amen.
[1] Brueggemann, Walter. A Commentary on Jeremiah: Exile and Homecoming. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1998, page 26
[2] Rohr, Richard. The Tears of Things: Prophetic Wisdom for an Age of Outrage. Random House, 2025, page 65.
[3] Chittister, Joan. The Breath of the Soul: Reflections on Prayer. Twenty-Third Publications, 2009, page 49