On the Willows

Psalm 137:1-2 (NKJ) By the rivers of Babylon, There we sat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion. We hung up our harps, upon the willows in the midst of it.

A little over 30 years ago, Dawn and I were part of a production of Godspell, a musical about the 3 year ministry of Jesus on this earth. We gave a creative interpretation of the gospel and our cast from the Trinity Baptist Church of Santa Monica did a stellar job of presenting an accurate and redemptive Christian rendition of a somewhat secular show that to this day inspires me. One of the songs from that effort was entitled "On the Willows". The lyrics are haunting and emotional and are taken from Psalm 137. I could never and still can't sing it without weeping. The disciples in the production sing it in response to Jesus telling them He must leave via the crucifixion and resurrection. I sing these words every once in awhile to express my feelings of not finding it very easy to be in this world:

On the willows there, we hung up our lyres
For our captors there, required of us songs
for our tormenters mirth, saying.....
Sing us one of those songs of Zion
Sing us one of those songs of Zion
But how can we sing, sing The Lord's Song
in a foreign land?

Psalm 137 is about the Jews responding to the captivity and enslavement of Israel. The poetry, though a little obscure and kind of difficult to understand tells of how when they were being taken away from their homes and were watching Zion be destroyed behind them they were asked, mockingly, to sing the songs of how wonderful Zion was and how beautiful their life was before the destruction. In protest of such a requirement they hung their lyres in the weeping willows by the rivers of Babylon and refused to sing, because of how much it broke their hearts and how utterly disrespectful it was to force them to sing. Can you imagine such a terrible thing? It would be like demanding the surviving spouse to sing a wedding song about a deeply loved husband or wife at their funeral. Simply heartbreaking.

The reason I have such a deep and sensitive connection to this song is because in the production my part called upon me to touch Jesus as He was leaving us after the Last Supper and going to Gethsemane. At one particular rehearsal I really got caught up in the moment and began weeping as I tried in vain to stop Jesus from going, knowing where he was going and why and that He was going to die. How could I sing at such a moment? I emotionally, in effect, hung up my lyre and just couldn't sing. As I explained my dilemma to the cast we reflected on how many aspects of the musical were so touching that it was difficult to separate our real feelings from the drama.

Now, my point for the day…. Are you really attached to what the symbols of communion represent? Do you feel something when you see a cross? Does a song evoke emotional response from you? Can you connect to what it means when someone in our Church Body (His Body) reconciles or breaks through, or especially when someone comes to the saving knowledge of Christ? This is the most important stuff that happens in life. I know I often talk about not trusting our emotions, but that is not to say that we should not express our passions. Especially the ones associated with our love and commitment to Him. Let me put it to you this way. If you never really sing the Lord's song from your heart then I guess I understand why you don't connect to hanging up your lyre on a weeping willow.

Let us not be so detached from our hearts that we can't feel how foreign this place is to us. We are strangers in a strange land and to a degree we are captives here and this world is not our home. There are times when the world demands that I must go along with the next godless way of seeing things that breaks my heart in such a way that I just can't sing. Every Sunday there are words in our worship that choke me up. Not because I am becoming a sentimental old fogey, but because they touch my heart and evoke a deep sense of my relationship with Jesus. Almost like touching Him.

In Him, Pastor Fred

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