← Contents Lamentations 4:1–22

Lamentations 4:1–22

1How the gold has lost its luster,

the fine gold become dull!

The sacred gems are scattered

at the head of every street.

2How the precious sons of Zion,

once worth their weight in gold,

are now considered as pots of clay,

the work of a potter’s hands!

3Even jackals offer their breasts

to nurse their young,

but my people have become heartless

like ostriches in the desert.

4Because of thirst the infant’s tongue

sticks to the roof of its mouth;

the children beg for bread,

but no one gives it to them.

5Those who once ate delicacies

are destitute in the streets.

Those nurtured in purple

now lie on ash heaps.

6The punishment of my people

is greater than that of Sodom,

which was overthrown in a moment

without a hand turned to help her.

7Their princes were brighter than snow

and whiter than milk,

their bodies more ruddy than rubies,

their appearance like sapphires.

8But now they are blacker than soot;

they are not recognized in the streets.

Their skin has shriveled on their bones;

it has become as dry as a stick.

9Those killed by the sword are better off

than those who die of famine;

racked with hunger, they waste away

for lack of food from the field.

10With their own hands compassionate women

have cooked their own children,

who became their food

when my people were destroyed.

11The LORD has given full vent to his wrath;

he has poured out his fierce anger.

He kindled a fire in Zion

that consumed her foundations.

12The kings of the earth did not believe,

nor did any of the world’s people,

that enemies and foes could enter

the gates of Jerusalem.

13But it happened because of the sins of her prophets

and the iniquities of her priests,

who shed within her

the blood of the righteous.

14Now they grope through the streets

like men who are blind.

They are so defiled with blood

that no one dares to touch their garments.

15“Go away! You are unclean!” men cry to them.

“Away! Away! Don’t touch us!”

When they flee and wander about,

people among the nations say,

“They can stay here no longer.”

16The LORD himself has scattered them;

he no longer watches over them.

The priests are shown no honor,

the elders no favor.

17Moreover, our eyes failed,

looking in vain for help;

from our towers we watched

for a nation that could not save us.

18Men stalked us at every step,

so we could not walk in our streets.

Our end was near, our days were numbered,

for our end had come.

19Our pursuers were swifter

than eagles in the sky;

they chased us over the mountains

and lay in wait for us in the desert.

20The LORD’s anointed, our very life breath,

was caught in their traps.

We thought that under his shadow

we would live among the nations.

21Rejoice and be glad, O Daughter of Edom,

you who live in the land of Uz.

But to you also the cup will be passed;

you will be drunk and stripped naked.

22O Daughter of Zion, your punishment will end;

he will not prolong your exile.

But, O Daughter of Edom, he will punish your sin

and expose your wickedness.

Original Meaning

CHAPTER 4 VARIES the presentation of the city’s fall from that given in chapters 1–2 or 3. A dominant motif here is a chronological contrast or what may be called a “then and now” contrast. The poet contrasts the former splendor of the city and its inhabitants with the pitiful conditions of his own day.

Verses 1–2 set a tone for the poem, where he compares the presiege city and its inhabitants to gold, the most precious metal in the ancient world. The postsiege and destroyed city is dull metal and scattered jewels, and its sons are pots of clay, subject to breaking at any moment.

With verse 3 comes a depressing comparison. The carrion-eating jackal cares enough to suckle its young, but the poet’s people are like the ostrich. This is not a self-evident comparison to modern readers. Perhaps the ostrich’s habit of burying eggs and leaving them gave it the reputation of being heartless (cf. Job 39:13–16). In any case, the dehumanizing effects of oppression continue their deadly work among a spent people.

One shocking effect of the Babylonian siege was the enormity of the changes that happened to families with children. There was no food for the children to eat (Lam. 4:4), so they had to beg for sustenance.1 Indeed, since there is nothing for anyone to eat, some mothers even cooked their own children (4:10). Although the comment about cannibalism is made without elaboration, the emotional impact can hardly be overestimated.2

Such dire circumstances give rise to a speculative thought concerning death. The poet suggests that those who died from the sword are better off than those who died from famine (Lam. 4:9). It is not clear whether the poet really believes this is so or whether he states the comparison for its effectiveness in depicting the horror of Zion’s fall. One may compare the author of Ecclesiastes, a master of rhetoric in making a point, in his claims that the dead have it better than the living, and that better than either is the one never born (Eccl. 4:1–6). The logic of such a statement is, of course, suicide. But since Ecclesiastes does not advocate suicide elsewhere or opt for it in his own case, presumably he is exaggerating to make a point about life’s inequities.

Similarly, the poet of Lamentations underscores the pain and despair of his generation rhetorically by noting how much longer and more painful it is to starve than to die by the sword. Perhaps we should interpret similarly the comment about the punishment on Zion as greater than that for Sodom (Lam. 4:6). Sodom—it should be recalled—was wholly consumed in fire in a way that Zion was not. God’s judgment on Sodom was proverbial as an example of swift and total punishment, and this is the reason for its employment in the poetry of Lamentations 4.3

The poet picks up a strand of teaching about Jerusalem’s failure that is given elsewhere in the Old Testament, namely, that the leadership of the people shed “the blood of the righteous” (4:13, i.e., innocent blood). Whether this means by active persecution or by allowing injustice is not stated. One finds this charge against Manasseh in 2 Kings 21:16, against Jehoahaz in Jeremiah 22:17, and against princes and officials in Ezekiel 22:6, 27.4

There is a reflection of the popular “theology of Zion” in Lam. 4:12, a belief that Jerusalem was sacrosanct and that God would not allow the city to fall. By “popular” is meant that it was well-received by the populace and thus a well-known sentiment. We should add immediately that this view was not held in such a simplistic formulation by inspired prophets such as Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, who spoke a word of the Lord against a number of popular (mis)conceptions of their contemporaries. Jeremiah, in particular, railed against a blind belief in the inviolability of the temple area (see Jer. 7; 26). The poet of Lamentations notes (perhaps rhetorically) that foreign kings were surprised at Zion’s fall, as if everyone knew of Zion’s special status.

Lamentations 4:17 picks up on another theme given in prophetic accounts, namely, that help from another state would not save Zion. Jeremiah notes that the Babylonian siege was temporarily lifted because of an approaching Egyptian army (Jer. 34:21–22; 37:5–11). Hopes for relief, however, quickly died when the siege was reinstated.

The poet speaks movingly of Zedekiah, Zion’s reigning monarch at the time of the city’s fall (Lam. 4:20). He uses a striking phrase to describe his royal role—that Zedekiah was the very “life breath” of the people. Comparison of this statement with the strong polemic of Jeremiah against Zedekiah is one reason why some scholars conclude that Jeremiah cannot be the author of Lamentations. However one decides that issue, verse 20 reflects poignant appreciation for the royal office (“the LORD’s anointed”). The royal messiah (i.e., “anointed one”) represented and gave life to the people. Metaphorically his “shadow” provided security for the people like the shadow or wings of the Lord for the righteous (cf. Ruth 2:12; Ps. 17:8; 91:1, 4).

Finally, verses 21–22 refer to an end to Zion’s punishment and the beginning of Edom’s judgment from the Lord. Apparently, the assistance Edom gave the Babylonians in taking Zion was a particularly bitter pill for Judeans. After all, Judah and Edom were joined by blood.5 Nothing is said directly about an Edomite role in the fall of Jerusalem, but the vitriolic language of Psalm 137:7; Joel 3:19–21; and Obadiah 10–14 make it clear that Edom had committed treachery.

This oracle-like conclusion to Lamentations 4 has a strong ironic bite to it. Edom is actually called on to rejoice and be glad [in the present] because the cup is about to be passed, and they will be harshly judged in the future. Partaking of a celebratory cup—which turns on its drinker and leads to drunkenness and judgment—is a proverbial motif of judgment throughout the Old Testament. The content of the cup initially tastes good, but it contains the wrath of judgment soon to be dispensed.6

The judgment that fell on Zion was severe, but it will have an end (4:22a). In succinct fashion the two parts of this affirmation show the major function of Lamentations. On the one hand, judgment has fallen, and the resulting tragedies are everywhere in evidence. On the other hand, a confession on the part of the people helps prepare the way for the new thing God will do in bringing an end to Jerusalem’s bereavement and humiliation.

Bridging Contexts

THEN AND NOW. The “then and now” mode of presentation of chapter 4 is a basis on which to proceed toward a modern appropriation of the text. Jerusalem’s demise at the hands of the Babylonians (and Edomites!) came as the result of sweeping historical forces used by the Lord to judge and discipline his people. Assumed in this presentation of great privilege and great fall is Jerusalem’s place in the divine economy. It was a marvelous place because God had chosen it for the seat of Davidic rule and the location of the temple, where his name and glory dwelt. Any destruction of human life and limb is tragic, but the fall of Jerusalem is particularly poignant because she is “Daughter … Zion,” God’s chosen vehicle.

There is a pattern to be discerned and prayerfully contemplated in the “then and now” motif: The church is an object of God’s gracious choice, formed through the hammer and anvil of the historical process and intended as the spiritual home and sustenance of believers. Comprised of God’s people, the church has taken a variety of forms in the unfolding revelation we call history. It has suffered grievously at times, and in the power of the Holy Spirit it has given birth to redemptive miracles. God has granted the church, or parts thereof, more than one angle of vision to see its past and present set before the seat of assessment.

Correspondingly, individual believers will recognize the pattern of tragedy and triumph, a kind of “then and now” too, as part of the Christian life. Christian lives are grounded in God’s gracious call and subject to the various fits and turns known as providence.

It is important to note the way this chapter ends. The poet notes that God will not prolong the exile of Daughter Zion. At a time he has determined, Jerusalem and Judah will be reconstituted. It was and remains an ongoing process. For both individuals and the church, the future lies open to God’s redeeming grace and his judgment on wickedness.

Contemporary Significance

ACCEPTING RESPONSIBILITY. The New York Times carried an editorial for July 5, 2000, written by Thomas Lynch entitled “A Man’s Right to Choose.” His first point has to do with the essence of adulthood in modern America, which is to exercise choice among options. He notes that his three sons and daughter can choose their sexual partners and how much to invest in the broader relationship that comes with sexual activity. Mr. Lynch knows that such choices/commitments are not easy, and he hopes (as do all parents) that his children will choose wisely, including the taking of precautions to avoid unwanted pregnancies. Lynch wonders, however—and this is his next point—that since his daughter can legally avail herself of the option to terminate a pregnancy, why cannot also his three sons legally avail themselves of the option to disallow responsibility for an unwanted child. As he puts it:

If the choice as to when one is ready, willing and able to parent is a good thing, wouldn’t it be good for my sons as well? And if that choice may be exercised by women after conception, then shouldn’t men have the same option: to proclaim, legally and unilaterally, the end of their interest in the tissue or fetus or baby or whatever it is that sex between a man and a woman sometimes produces?

Lynch reminds the reader that Roe versus Wade gave a woman the right to choose, but that once a child is born, the father is forced minimally into eighteen years of fiscal responsibility. He thinks it better if men as well as women can choose whether to be a parent or not, and that the state should not compel men any more than women to be parents.

The point of this quick summary is not to say that Lamentations 4 is an antiabortion, profamily piece, nor is it to vilify Mr. Lynch (with whom this author emphatically disagrees). It is to show how presuppositions about individual freedom and options of withdrawal of responsibility sit so differently beside a text like Lamentations 4, with its heartfelt concern for the inhabitants of Zion who have died or who are suffering, and above all its presupposition that God has placed them in places of moral and spiritual responsibility in which they will be held accountable.

Zion’s (then) recent tragedy is set in the context of a history in which God called the city and its inhabitants to exercise their covenant responsibilities, to be a city set on a hill as a light to the nations, and to show forth God’s praise. The poet laments the loss of people, great and small, while acknowledging communal responsibility for her demise. Everywhere it is assumed that God’s people are called to exercise a moral and spiritual life in the public realm and that there have been and will be consequences to moral choices. This is not just an Old Testament conviction; it is broadly biblical and as relevant today as in the past.

In the twenty-first century it is still the case that there is no evading of responsibility in God’s economy, so that it is false and misleading to view life as comprised primarily of morally neutral choices to be made by autonomous people. We have no right to move in and out of social commitments like stock options in building a portfolio.

The past, present, and future alike come under the judging, refining, and transforming work of God. We are called to moral and spiritual accountability. We, as creatures made in the image of God, are much more than “the tissue or fetus or baby or whatever it is that sex between a man and a woman sometimes produces” (the terminology of Mr. Lynch). All of us have a past as well as a future in which we are held morally and spiritually accountable. There will be harsh and tragic words in the future for those who think that freedom and pleasure are the goals of human existence. By God’s grace they can be gifts in due season, but that is a far different matter than the goal of radical autonomy. The latter is a false god and leads ultimately to catastrophe.

God grants joy and peace in the Holy Spirit, but the freedom of his children comes through embracing a gospel of redemption and renewal—redemption from the effects of sin and selfishness, and renewal in the image and likeness of Christ. God will not prolong “your exile,” but “wickedness” will be exposed. That was true then, and it will remain so.