O my Comforter in sorrow, my heart is faint within me. Listen to the cry of my people from a land far away: “Is the Lord not in Zion? Is her King no longer there?” “Why have they provoked Me to anger with their images, with their worthless foreign idols?” “The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.” Since my people are crushed, I am crushed; I mourn, and horror grips me. Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is there no healing for the wound of my people? Oh that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears! I would weep day and night for the slain of my people. (Jeremiah 818-9:1)

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

     Tears are powerful things, and today's passage from Jeremiah related the story of a broken hearted prophet moved to tears by his people's fate. Jeremiah was a man with a very big heart. As we learned last week (and as we see again this week to some extent) he could speak in judgment but we also learn this week that he was not without compassion. In fact, today we get a picture of a prophet speaking judgment – but doing so with a broken heart; a heart broken by the fate that was awaiting the people of Judah, and this text takes us very directly into his deep emotional anguish over his people's plight. Tears and broken hearts are the ultimate sign of love. Our hearts break and we weep when we care about the troubles of others. We wept and our hearts broke at the plight of the people of Haiti in January in a nation ravaged by natural disaster. We weep and our hearts break at the plight of the people of Pakistan today in a nation ravaged by natural disaster. We weep and our hearts break when we see people abusing faith in Jesus to promote hatred against others by threatening to burn the holy books of other faiths. We weep and our hearts break – and they should. Tears and broken hearts should be inevitable for those seeking to live as Christians in a broken and hurting world.

     Tears and broken hearts come from listening; from being aware of the struggles around us. Jeremiah's broken hearted weeping began with hearing the cries of his people: “Listen to the cry of my people from a land far away: 'Is the Lord not in Zion? Is her King no longer there?' ” Jeremiah heard the cries of his people. When others are in anguish it's often a lot easier to shut our eyes and ears to their problems – especially when the anguish is being suffered by a relatively anonymous group as opposed to our friends or neighbours or relatives. I used to work in downtown Toronto. Day after day I walked through the downtown. How many homeless people did I turn away from? What really strikes me, though, isn't so much that I didn't “help” them (I didn't have the personal resources to help every one of them) but that after a while I stopped noticing them. How many of us fail to notice the needs around us? How many of us become desensitized to the suffering of others because we see so much of it on the nightly news? How many of us become judgmental against those who find themselves in desperate need? How often do I hear “if only those on welfare would just go out and get a job?” How many of us have actually wept for the people of Pakistan – or for those who struggle in Port Colborne? In Jeremiah's case, the anguish was being caused by the pending exile of the people from their land, which we spoke of last week. The Babylonian horses were already being heard; the Babylonian armies were fast approaching. Today, it would be the roar of tanks or the distant explosions of bombs and missiles, but the effect would be the same. Like God's people of long ago, we'd be filled with fear and we'd want someone to at least listen to our cries. Long ago, Jeremiah heard the cries of God's people and perhaps more important Jeremiah listened to the cries of God's people, and because he really listened, his heart was breaking: “my heart is faint within me” he wrote. Surely that's our first challenge as we struggle to live as the people of God in a world in which there is far too much hurt, far too much pain, far too much need, far too much hate: in short, far too much suffering. In a time of desperation, we'd want someone to hear us, to listen to us, to weep for us. Is there any suffering to which we've closed our ears, our eyes or our hearts. For whom will we weep? To what are we willing to respond? What pain are we willing to share? As God's people, do we hear those suffer? As God's people, do we listen to those who suffer? As God's people, do we weep for those who suffer? Do our hearts break for those who suffer?

     Our tears are the sign that we really see and understand the plight of those who suffer. I learned a long time ago as a minister that I can't solve everybody's problems – in fact I probably can't solve anybody's problems on my own. Neither can the church. But I've also discovered that most of those who are hurting don't really expect us to solve their problems for them - they expect us to care, and to show that we care. They expect us to welcome them and not judge them. They expect us to greet them with a smile rather than a look of suspicion. They expect us to listen to them rather than to talk at them. The Bible is full of examples of people who cared and who wept for the plight of those around them. Jesus heard the pain of Mary and Martha when Lazarus died, and in response He wept. Jesus suffered great hurt when Peter denied Him after His arrest, and Peter's response to Jesus' pain was to weep. Paul reflected on the conflict and dissension of the church in Corinth, and he wrote to them “out of much distress and anguish of heart and with many tears.” Our tears for the hurting people of the world are the ultimate sign that we care about the world and the fate of its people. We've perhaps created too many antiseptic ways of caring; ways that don't push us to truly confront the reality of the suffering of the world. Charities are wonderful things; the Mission and Service Fund is a wonderful thing, and yet in some ways those things shield us from the reality of what's happening around us. We sometimes content ourselves with giving money, but we never shed a tear for those who need the money. I'm not suggesting that we don't care; but I am suggesting that if our caring results only in the anonymous giving of money (which sacrifice is somewhat mitigated in any event by the tax receipt we receive at the end of the year) without any emotional response to the situation to which we're contributing then perhaps we're acting out of mere duty rather than true love for those around us. I suppose that acting out of duty is better than not acting at all, but if we're followers of Christ, then we need to remember that Christ always acted out of love and never simply out of duty. Christian love causes us to shed tears for a broken and hurting world.

     Broken hearts should also lead us to take ownership of the situation over which we weep. Jeremiah took ownership of the pain of his people. Realizing what was about to happen, Jeremiah could have abandoned his people and run for the hills, so to speak. Instead, he not only shared their fate emotionally - “since my people are crushed, I am crushed; I mourn, and horror grips me” - he also chose to be present with them. We know from the latter chapters of the prophecy that Jeremiah will be present during the siege of Jerusalem and when Jerusalem falls. Jeremiah listens to the pain of his people and weeps over the pain of his people, but he also shares the pain of his people. Now I'm not suggesting that all of us should get on a plane and head over to Pakistan to share the suffering of the people there. I am suggesting, however, that when we see suffering we need to take ownership of it. We need to recognize that we have a personal responsibility to do what we can to alleviate suffering (even if all we can do in a particular situation is to pray for those who suffer) because alleviating the suffering of people was at the heart of the ministry of Jesus. Jesus took ownership of the pain of the people around Him and He took action where He could to alleviate it. Isaiah described the coming Messiah as “a man of suffering” but Jesus the Messiah didn't let His own suffering blind Him to the suffering of the world; He never became self-absorbed.

     Jeremiah asked, “Is there no balm in Gilead?” Gilead was a region just northeast of Jerusalem on the other side of the Jordan River. It was a place renowned for its herbs and other plants which were believed to have wonderful medicinal qualities, but the prophet wasn't thinking of a physical illness – he was stating his anguish at the fact that there would be no healing for the coming invasion. The Babylonians would come; the land would be conquered; the people would be exiled; there would be great suffering; and there wasn't a thing anyone could do about it. It was just going to happen. There was no doctor who could intervene to heal this coming sickness. These things were going to happen; nothing would stop them. But, as we learned last week, the coming of suffering and hardship doesn't mean that God isn't with us anymore. It can, in fact, be the catalyst that moves us closer to God if we choose to seek God in the midst of trouble. The prophets went into exile with the people. God's Word was still spoken – by those who shared the people's pain. In the midst of hardship it might seem that there's no one to help, but there is. “Is there no balm in Gilead?” The question seems to have been asked in despair by a prophet who was perhaps himself beginning to question the goodness of God, but really Jeremiah knew. He knew that in fact, there is a balm in Gilead! There is a physician who can treat the illness; there is a medicine that can cure the sickness. The physician is Christ; the medicine is the Word of God. Indeed, there is a balm in Gilead! It's the Word of God – and we need to share it with a hurting world!