Amos 1-2: Finger Pointing

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Amos opens with a thesis statement in the third person: “The words of Amos […] which he saw concerning Israel” (Amos 1:1).

This statement is mixed in with some biographical information, telling us that Amos was among the shepherds of Tekoa, and that he saw the words when Uzziah was king in Judah and Jeroboam son of Joash was king in Israel, two years before an earthquake.

With regards to his profession as a shepherd, the particular word used is only used in one other place: 2 Kgs 3:4, in reference to the king of Moab. The king of Moab, of course, would hardly be some lowly peasant. Given that Amos was apparently literate, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to see him as the same category of shepherd – the owner of a large flock that was tended by employees.

Claude Mariottini discusses Amos’s occupation in more detail in a blog post.

God Roared

The section proper begins with a verse that reads almost like an incantation:

The Lord roars from Zion,
and utters his voice from Jerusalem;
the pastures of the shepherds mourn,
and the top of Carmel withers.

If the verse is original to Amos, the fact that the geographical markers are all from the southern kingdom seems rather odd. There’s something just so Deuteronomistic about Jerusalem as the place from which God is roaring. According to Collins, that’s one reason why this verse is considered by many to be an addition from after the Babylonian exile (A Short Introduction to the Hebrew Bible, p.159).

The use of the term “Zion” is interesting as well, since it’s not a word that’s come up a whole lot in our readings so far. We saw it a fair bit in Lamentations, which is dated to the Babylonian exile. Other than that, we’ve only seen it used a sprinkling of times in Kings and Chronicles, and once in 2 Sam. 5:7, which Wikipedia gives as the earliest use of the word. This seems to be fairly compelling evidence in support of Collins’s assertion.

The Condemnations

The condemnations themselves follow a pattern:

  1. It begins with the phrase: “Thus says the Lord.” According to Claude Mariottini, this phrase is frequently found in prophetic books, and would have been used by royal messengers speaking on behalf of a king to a designated individual (as in the case with Rabshakeh, envoy from King Sennacherib of Assyria to King Hezekiah of Judah in 2 Kgs 18:19).
  2. “For three transgressions of [transgressor], and for four, I will not revoke punishment.” The phrase likely means something along the lines of “three transgressions would have been bad enough, but you’ve gone and had four of them!” (Except, of course, with the specific numbers being literally figurative.)
  3. This is followed by a surprisingly brief explanation of their crimes…
  4. And a surprisingly brief explanation of the punishment that awaits them. This largely involves a fire that will consume their walls and strongholds (except in the case of Israel).
  5. Closing each condemnation (except for those of Tyre and Edom), Amos concludes with: “says the Lord God.”

Amos 1:3-5
Target: Damascus, Syria
Transgressions: They threshed Gilead, which we read about in 2 Kgs 10:32-33.
Punishment: God will send fire down on the house of Hazael, and it will devour the strongholds of Benhadad (both Hazael and Behadad were kings of Syria). The people of Syria will be forced into exile to Kir. This will indeed happen when the Assyrians take Damascus in 2 Kgs 16:9. Also of interest is that Amos himself seems to believe that the Syrians originated from Kir (Amos 9:7).

Russian icon of the prophet Amos, from the Iconostasis of Transfiguration Church, Kizhi monastery, in Karelia, Russia, 18th cent.

Russian icon of the prophet Amos, from the Iconostasis of Transfiguration Church, Kizhi monastery, in Karelia, Russia, 18th cent.

Amos 1:6-8
Target: Gaza, Philistia
Transgressions: For carrying a whole people into exile, and for selling them to Edom.
Punishment: God will send fire onto the wall of Gaza, destroying her strongholds. The inhabitants will be cut off from Ashdod and the one who holds the scepter of Ashkelon. God will turn his hand against Ekron and the last of the Philistines will die. This all happened when Assyria took over in a series of campaigns (Gaza fell to Tiglath-Pileser in 734BCE, Ashdod to Sargon in 711BCE, and Ashkelon and Ekron to Sennacherib in 701BCE).

Amos 1:9-10
Target: Tyre
Transgressions: For selling people to Edom, and for forgetting the covenant of brotherhood (this latter likely a reference to the close relationship between Tyre and Israel during the reigns of David and Solomon, as per 2 Sam. 5:11 and 1 Kgs 5:1).
Punishment: God will set fire to the wall of Tyre and devour its strongholds. This prophecy also came true, this time when Tyre became a tributary to Assyria and then fell to Nebuchadnezzar 585BCE, after a lengthy siege. It was then destroyed by Alexander the Great in 332BCE.

Amos 1:11-12
Target: Edom
Transgressions: For having pursued his brother with the sword, without pity. Edom was perpetually torn by anger and wrath.
Punishment: God will send fire down on Teman, and it will devour the strongholds of Bozrah. This prophecy also came true, as Edom was destroyed by the Babylonians in the 6th century BCE.

Amos 1:13-15
Target: The Ammonites
Transgressions: For having ripped up pregnant women in Gilead to enlarge their borders. This war against Gilead doesn’t seem to have been recorded anywhere else.
Punishment: God will send fire down to the wall of Rabbah, devouring its strongholds. This will happen with great shouting in the day of battle, and with a tempest in the day of the whirlwind. The Ammonite king and princes will be taken into exile.

Amos 2:1-3
Target: Moab
Transgressions: For having burned to lime the bones of the Edomite king. This is an interesting complaint. While the crimes of the other foreign nations can be read as offenses against Israel (the big Israel, the one that includes Judah), this is a crime against another foreign nation. As Collins puts it, “this is a crime of one Gentile against another and can only be viewed as a crime against humanity. Amos operates with a concept of universal justice, such as we often find in the wisdom literature” (A Short Introduction to the Hebrew Bible, p.156).
Punishment: Fire will rain down upon Moab (though not, at least, it’s walls) and devour the strongholds of Kerioth. Moab will die amid uproar, shouting, and the sound of the trumpet. Its ruler and its princes will be slain.

Amos 2:4-5
Target: Judah
Transgressions: For rejecting the law of God and failing to keep his statutes. For having been led astray by their lies, in the way their fathers walked. This passage is sometimes considered to have been added by a later editor, in large part because of how closely the writing resembles that of the Deuteronomical books.
Punishment: God will bring fire down on Judah devour the strongholds of Jerusalem. Of course, this came to pass in 2 Kgs 24-25.

Turning to Israel

While the authenticity of certain passages is in question, the rhetorical flow works quite well. First, Amos lures his readers/listeners in by raging at the other guy. Then he moves a little closer with the next batch, raging at nations considered ‘cousins’: Edom is mythically descended from Jacob’s brother (Gen. 25:19-34), while the Moabites and Ammonites are descended from Lot (Gen. 19:36-38). Circling ever closer, Amos turns to Judah.

And then Amos pounces, throwing the sins of Israel into their faces.

The sins of Israel are many:

  • They sell the righteous for silver and the needy for a pair of shoes. This is likely a reference to bribery in the justice system, rather than a real buyer’s market in the slave trade.
  • They trampled the heads of the poor into the dust. This seemed fairly self-evident to me, but the New Bible Commentary made it all about real estate, saying that they were begrudging the poor even the small amount of dust that they put on their heads when mourning (p.731). This could be a translation issue, or perhaps I’m just not getting it, but it’s certainly a powerful image.
  • A man and his father have sex with the same woman, thus profaning God’s holy name. This is generally prohibited in Lev. 20:11, but it seems that many commentaries read this as a condemnation of cultic prostitution (which would explain the reference to God’s holy name). The man and the father would therefore not necessarily be literal, but an indication that the whole of the community is involved in this sin. Of course, once interpretation does not exclude the other, and a double meaning may have been intended.
  • They lay down beside every altar (clearly, Israel wasn’t quite monotheistic enough), upon garments taken in pledge (likely a reference to the same string of laws that gave us Deut. 24:17, prohibiting the taking of a widow’s clothing in pledge).
  • They drink the wine of those who have been fined in the house of their God. The idea that enforcement agencies might profit from greater fines for smaller infractions is certainly still a problem.

Amos breaks the pattern by reminding his audience that God destroyed the Amorites for them – even though the Amorites were as tall as cedars and as strong as oaks. God brought them out of Egypt and led them through the wilderness, then gave them the Amorite lands to call their own. He raised prophets and Nazirites (a person who voluntarily makes a vow, as discussed in Num. 6) from among them, and yet… And yet they have made the Nazirites drink wine and commanded the prophets not to prophecy (a sore point for Amos, I’m sure).

Apparently, the authenticity of this passage about prophets and Nazirites (Amos 2:11-12) is in question, and it’s not hard to see why. It does break the pattern of the condemnations.

In punishment for all of this, God will press them down. Flight will perish from the swift, strength will vanish from the strong, even the mightiest won’t be able to save themselves from the coming punishment. It will be so bad that even the stout of heart will flee naked. Harsh times, indeed.

So, did Amos’s prophecies come true? Well, yes, but given a large enough time frame, foreseeing the doom of just about any nation is a sure bet. One possibility I’m seeing is that of a late authorship – if the book was written during the Deuteronomic reforms or into the exile, the events Amos is predicting would already have been known, and perhaps setting them in the mouth of Amos, or setting Amos in the time of Jeroboam, served a different purpose. Sifting through the arguments for either side is well above my pay grade, but the commentaries I tend to trust the most seem unanimous in the idea that Amos is largely authentic with some possible late additions.

Introduction to Amos

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Amos is the first of our prophetic writings, apparently authored by the prophet himself (though a few passages are questionable, and I’ll talk about those when I get to them).

It seems that the name Amos means “burden.” It’s seems a rather convenient name for a prophet to have, and it makes me wonder if perhaps he took it up as a sort of nom-de-prophète. Or, of course, it could just be a coincidence.

Based on the information provided in the book, Amos was active during the reign of Jeroboam II. My study Bible dates it around 760-750 BCE.

Amos comes from the small village of Tekoa, which was in Judah. Though he’s called a shepherd, a herder, and a “dresser of sycamore trees” (Amos 7:14), but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he was a labourer himself. If we take him as the author of the book, and using some other clues, it seems more likely that he would have instead been the owner of agricultural estates.

Despite being from Judah, the vast majority of his prophetic career (at least the parts of it we know about) was dedicated to Israel. At some point, he moved up to the Israelite sanctuary in Bethel and preached there until he was kicked out and forced to return to Judah, which is where it seems that he wrote the Book of Amos. We’ll get to read about his conflict with religious authorities, embodied by the priest Amaziah, in Amos 7.


All the commentaries I’m finding point to three distinct parts:

  • In chapters 1-2, Amos condemns Israel’s neighbours.
  • In chapters 3-6, he provides an indictment of Israel herself, focusing on sin and injustice.
  • In chapters 7-9, Amos foretells Israel’s doom.

Lamentations: Closing Thoughts

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Reflecting back on a whole book when I read it all in just two weeks seems a little silly. Usually, when I write these closing thoughts, it’s an opportunity for me to remember chapters I had read months earlier, allowing me to make connections that are more difficult to make when I’m nose-deep. But I can still talk about my overall impressions of Lamentations, now that I’ve read it.

I was a little concerned going in because I don’t tend to do well with the verse portions of the text. I have the normal lack-of-exposure aversion to verse in general, but on top of that I often find it very difficult to find anything to say. When we’ve encountered verse in the past, such as the song of Moses in Exodus 15, it’s just a lot of imagery that expresses a fairly simply/short idea, often even one that’s already been covered by the surrounding narrative. Apart from oddments here or there, there’s little I can say other than “this image was nice, but that one is rather horrid.”

And it’s clear that I’m not the only one. My Study Bible’s notes have been very sparse for Lamentations, and my New Bible Commentary largely contented itself with drawing parallels to the New Testament to show how Lamentations is really all just presaging Jesus.

But I was pleasantly surprised! My initial plan had been to cover the whole book in just three posts: 1-2, 3, 4-5. But after reading one and seeing all my notes, I realized that I was going to have to take them one at a time, and only my post on Lam. 5 turned out a little on the shorter side.

Mostly, this came down to the themes – where they were similar and, occasionally, where they differed. Each ode seemed to have a different focus, and that was very interesting to look at.

Of course, it was also somewhat depressing. Despite the terrible suffering the odes described, these experiences seemed to have done nothing to teach empathy. Much to the contrary, in fact, two odes ended with notes of hope that all that same suffering would be visited onto others so that the Israelites could have their own turn to gloat. These odes were a perfect opportunity to draw connections between people, to learn perspective and empathy, and yet the authors used them instead to wallow and to form new nationalistic lines. It’s made me very glad that I don’t have a theological interest in trying to understand why this should be a part of my holy book.

Coming up next, I will begin posts on Amos on Feb 29. See you then!

Lamentations 5: Remember, O Lord

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I found the fifth ode to be an easier read than the others, less challenging. It’s certainly the shortest, as the crow counts words, but I also found it to have the most easily-grasped structure. Bob MacDonald has some interesting notes on the poetry of the ode, but I’ll just stick to content.

More so than the other four odes, it can be fairly well summarized by its opening verse: “Remember, O Lord, what has befallen us; behold, and see our disgrace!” (Lam. 5:1)

What follows is a lengthy description of said disgrace, with most verses containing an inversion of the desired/previous (assumed) social order. I say “assumed” because I suspect that there may be an element of romanticising of the before-days. I find it difficult to believe that women were not raped before the coming of Babylon (Lam. 5:11), or that much of the population was not hard driven (Lam. 5:5) or forced to stagger under heavy loads (Lam. 5:13). Perhaps these things became more common, or perhaps they started to affect the literate classes as well as the poor, but I find it unlikely that a substantial portion of the Israelite population was not forced to labour under unfair conditions while under solid Israelite rule.

Nebuzaradan burns down the temple, from Petrus Comestor's "Bible Historiale", 1372

Nebuzaradan burns down the temple, from Petrus Comestor’s “Bible Historiale”, 1372

The complaints are fairly standard for what we’ve seen so far. There are several mentions of starvation and hard labour, and there’s the rape I mentioned above. Other than that, there are several complaints of the high having been brought low: The idea that Israel’s crown has fallen (Lam. 5:16), and that even princes now find themselves hung by their hands (Lam. 5:12).

But a few of the complaints stood out, for various reasons:

The first (in order) is the complaint that the Israelites now have to pay for the water and wood they use (Lam. 5:4), which is certainly timely given the water crisis in Michigan (both Flint more recently, and the shut offs in Detroit not too long ago). This idea that having to pay others for basic necessities of life as a sign of exile and things gone shockingly wrong strikes me especially in light of the Christian Right’s often libertarian leanings. But it’s also, I think, another commentary on the “high brought low,” as the Israelites are cut off from the means of self-sufficiency.

The narrator complains that it is their fathers who did the sinning, but they are dead and it is the present generation who must suffer as punishment (Lam. 5:7). It feels like there’s almost a sense of injustice at such a moral system, though of course the narrator never goes so far as to directly question God.

Lam. 5:8 complains that the Israelites are ruled by slaves. This struck me as rather strange, and I wondered if it might be an imperialistic assumption – that foreigners are meant to be slaves, and yet here they are as rulers. My Study Bible, however, notes that: “Important posts were sometimes given to slaves of the king.” In other words, the verse may well be literal – in that the Israelites are working under overseers who are, in fact, slaves.

The narrator tells us that Mount Zion has become desolate, and that it is prowled by jackals. Jackals, who have powerful stomachs that can even digest (and derive nutrition from) bones, are often associated with graveyards and the dead in ancient mythologies (having, in times of desperation, dug up corpses to supplement their diet). The Egyptian god of embalming, Anubis, is frequently associated with jackals, though apparently that’s been complicated by recent research. In any case, the point seems to be clear: The holy centre of Israel is now as desolate as a graveyard.

God’s Reign

The final four verses of the ode work well as a conclusion. God’s power is established, and the narrator makes a plea for Israel to be restored. And yet, the very final verse, Lam. 5:22, wonders if perhaps God is just too angry, and Israel is utterly rejected.

Lamentations 4: Tarnished Gold and Strewn Jewels

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As with Lamentations 2, the fourth ode begins with an impersonal third person narrator, then shifts into more personal language. Though, instead of the first person of the second singular of the second ode, this one talks about “our eyes” (Lam. 4:17) and “our end” (Lam. 4:18).

The ode opens with an image of greatness brought low: Dimmed gold and holy jewels scattered. The image is a dual one, as it can be taken mostly literally (the holy jewels likely referring to the Temple riches that are now profaned and scattered), and as a reference to the city – and its people – itself. This second interpretation is spelled out for us when the “sons of Zion” are compared to gold in Lam. 4:2.

This theme continues in Lam. 4:7-8 where Jerusalem’s princes, who had been pure and white, now find themselves in the streets, their faces blackened with soot. In Lam. 4:5, those who had once feasted on dainties now die in the streets (presumably of starvation, given the context), and those who had been brought up in purple now lie in ash heaps (purple being significant because of the price the dye – only the wealthiest families could afford to bring their children up in purple).

Jerusalem had once been so strong that “the kings of the earth did not believe […] that foe or enemy could enter the gates of Jerusalem” (Lam. 4:12).

Starvation & Cruelty

Along with the fall of Jerusalem came starvation, a detail we know from 2 Kgs 25:3. This period is so terrible that the narrator says it would have been better to simply fall by the sword in the early days of the Babylonian attack rather than waste away in the famine that followed (Lam. 4:9). Even the theme of otherwise “compassionate women” who eat their own children returns (Lam. 2:20, Lam. 4:10) – a reality of sieges we had already heard of from 2 Kgs 6:26-29.

Despite the mention of “compassionate women,” the narrator seems to see a cruelty in how the children are treated. They call out in hunger, but no one feeds them (Lam. 4:4), and while even jackals suckle their young, the “daughter of my people” has become as cruel as an ostrich (Lam. 4:3). An odd statement, since there’s nothing especially cruel about ostriches’ treatment of their young. Quite the opposite, in fact, as ostriches care for their young collectively, and will even adopt chicks from other families (well, it involves stealing, but they’ll still care for young that are not genetically related to themselves). Had the “daughter of my people” truly become like an ostrich, it seems that the children who called out in hunger might well have been fed – by someone, if not their own parents.


As in the other Laments, our narrator makes it clear that the suffering is a punishment, and it is entirely God’s doing: “The Lord has given full vent to his wrath” (Lam. 4:11). Interestingly, the occasion of the punishment was the sinning of Jerusalem’s priests and prophets, who “shed in the midst of her the blood of the righteous” (Lam. 4:13). This must be a reference to their less-than-stellar behaviour under the reigns of Manasseh and Amon (with the mention of spilled blood perhaps referring to being complicit in Manasseh’s slaughter of the innocents in 2 Kgs 21:16).

Nebuchadnezzar's Camp, from Petrus Comestor's "Bible Historiale", 1372

Nebuchadnezzar’s Camp, from Petrus Comestor’s “Bible Historiale”, 1372

As punishment, these higher ups are now defiled and forced to wander the streets (Lam. 4:14). They are cast off by Israelite and foreigner alike, forced to become fugitives and wanderers (Lam. 4:15). God himself scattered them, and gave no special treatment to either elder or priest (Lam. 4:16) – to which they surely must have felt entitled. Even King Zedekiah himself, “the Lord’s anointed,” was exiled (Lam. 4:20).

There are more references to being chased by pursuers (Lam. 4:18-19) in their wandering though, interestingly, this is where the narrator switches to the inclusive “we/our.”

In Lam. 4:6, the narrator tells us that the punishment was so terrible that it was greater even than the punishment of Sodom (likely because at least Sodom was destroyed instantaneously, and without the humiliation of God using human attackers to do it). Except that some translations give it as the sin of Jerusalem was so much greater than the sin of Sodom. And while that seems like a really important difference – or perhaps a very theologically salient pun – I can’t find a commentary that mentions it.

There is an idea that the Israelites looked to salvation from human means in Lam. 4:17, though, of course, it never came. This could be a reference to an alliance, perhaps something like Hezekiah’s alliance with Egypt in 2 Chron. 32.

Unfortunately, the narrator ruins it all at the end. Rather than a call to repent, or a hope in God’s mercy, or anything like that, he instead puts a finger at Edom and says, “Don’t you gloat, ’cause you’re next!” (Lam. 4:21-22). So if there’s a lesson to be learned about mercy or compassion or empathy from the exile, the Israelites who write the Lamentations clearly haven’t gotten it.

Lamentations 3: The Man Who Has Seen Affliction

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The third ode breaks our format a little, giving three verses (though only two lines each) per letter. It’s also unusual in that, this time, the whole is given in the first person, with the speaker apparently a personification of the Israelite people.

It continues the “God as enemy” theme that we had in the second ode, with the whole of the first 20 verses devoted to it. The ode leaps right out of the gate with:

I am the man who has seen affliction
under the rod of his wrath (Lam. 3:1)

And so we see the dual themes of suffering and of God as the active agent in that suffering.

We find, again, the idea that Israel has become an object of ridicule: “I have become the laughingstock of all peoples” (Lam. 3:14). That this complaint comes up again and again, right alongside the idea that women are forced to eat their own babies in starvation, illustrates just how deeply the Israelite pride was wounded – or, at least, the pride of the literate class.

Strangely, this portion of the ode also tells us that, though the narrator has cried out for help, God “shuts out my prayer” (Lam. 3:8). This is in sharp contrast to the “it’s never too late” messages of Chronicles, and even to latter on in the very same odd (such as Lam. 3:25). The verse stands out in its strangeness. I suspect that the point is just that God hasn’t listened yet, that the suffering is still ongoing, but it still seems odd.

I won’t bother going into the rest of this portion because it stands well enough on its own. There’s a lot of very poetic imagery, as well as a fair amount of melodrama. The only other verse I want to comment on is Lam. 3:6: “He has made me dwell in darkness like the dead of long ago.” I was intrigued first by what it says about how the author seems to imagine some kind of afterlife, but also by the idea that the situation has changed. Does this tell us that Israelite burial practices were changed during the exile? Or is it a historicizing of an evolving conception of the afterlife?

Hope Endures

Despite the bleak beginning, the narrator still holds on to hope. When things are at their darkest, “this I call to mind […] The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end” (Lam. 3:21-22).

Siege and destruction of Jerusalem, La Passion de Nostre Seigneur, c.1504

Siege and destruction of Jerusalem, La Passion de Nostre Seigneur, c.1504

It is in this section, covered in Lam. 3:21-36, that we hear of God’s mercies and the value of steadfast loyalty: “The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul that seeks him” (Lam. 3:25).

Despite the focus elsewhere on God’s agency, this section tell us that God “does not willingly afflict or grieve the sons of men” (Lam. 3:33). I can see two readings of this, which may depend on English connotations. Rather than saying that human sin forces God to act in a certain way (which would remove God’s agency and be contrary to so much of what we’ve been reading), this line could mean that God doesn’t inflict suffering happily or capriciously. That would make the phrase an equivalent of something like “with a heavy heart.”

In fact, we must take the verse in that second way if we are to see any consistency with Lam.37-39, where the narrator makes clear that God is directly responsible for the current suffering:

Who has commanded and it came to pass,
unless the Lord has ordained it? (Lam. 3:37)

The next line reminded me of Exodus, where everything, even the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart, was attributed to God:

Is it not from the mouth of the Most High
that good and evil come? (Lam. 3:38)

This is followed by a call for repentance in Lam. 3:40-42.

Can You See?

From this point on, the narrator turns to address directly. In Lam. 3:43-54, he asks – again and again – if God can see the horror of the punishment he has rained down on the Israelites.

It is here, finally, that we see the evoking of the female figure, and we get it twice in relatively quick succession. First, the narrator’s eyes flow with tears “because of the destruction of the daughter of my people” (Lam. 3:48), and then his eyes cause him grief “at the fat of all the maidens of my city” (Lam. 3:51).

After asking God if he can see the suffering, the narrator affirms in Lam. 3:55-63 that, yes, God can see. And, again, we see God’s comforting presence even while the situation is so bleak:

Thou didst come near when I called on thee;
thou didst say, ‘Do not fear!’ (Lam. 3:57)

Brant Clements points to the positioning of this Ode in the centre of the book as possibly significant. He draws on the Chiasmus form to propose that Lam. 3 is placed in the centre precisely for this message of hope:

If you are looking for hope in the book of Lamentations, it is only to be found in the central verses of chapter 3, the central chapter. Whether this is intended to emphasize the message of hope, I’m not in a position to say. The rest of the book may frame this expression of hope or, alternatively, they may bury it.

And if the ode ended here, it would be fantastic. The form is clearly intentional, as it moves back and forth between despair and hope. But, of course, it doesn’t end there. No, we still have Lam. 3:64-66, where the narrator ends the ode by hoping that God will destroy Israel’s enemies:

Thou wilt pursue them in anger and destroy them from under thy heavens, O Lord” (Lam. 3:66).

That’s nice, dear.

Lamentations 2: The Daughter of Zion

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The second ode continues the use of feminine imagery when talking about Jerusalem. While we have encountered the phrase “daughter of Zion” before (Lam. 1:6), the designation really takes over here. I don’t recall the phrase appearing before Lamentations in our readings, and a BibleGateway search confirms that. It seems to appear quite a bit in Isaiah and Micah, as well as Zechariah,  Psalms, and the Son of Solomon.

In fact, the term “Zion” itself doesn’t come up very much in our earlier readings at all. It’s used a handful of times in Kings and Chronicles, and once in 2 Sam. 5:7 (which Wikipedia gives as the earliest use of the word). There seems to have been an inflation in the geographical area that the term refers to – from a single mountain on which a fortress had been build, to the district of Jerusalem where the fortress had stood, to the whole city.

But that phrase, “daughter of Zion”, is an interesting one, and the fact that it doesn’t come up until later writings seems important. The New Bible Commentary agrees, pointing to extant cuneiform inscriptions that refer to “the daughter of …” who is bidden to lament her lot. “The technique may thus have been learnt by the Jews in exile” (p.659). So this phrase, which would go on to be so popular (particularly with Isaiah) seems to have been a borrowing of a Babylonian poetic construction.

God Is The Enemy

In this ode, the focus on God as active agent in bringing punishment down on the Israelites is front and center. The very verse begins: “How the Lord in his anger has set the daughter of Zion under a cloud!” (Lam. 2:1).

Compare this to the first ode, which begins, “How lonely sits the city that was full of people!” (Lam. 1:1). Even though the first ode makes it clear that the punishment was God’s doing, the focus was on the experience of the punishment. Here, however, God as active agent is much more emphasized, as in Lam. 2:5 (“The Lord has become like an enemy”).

The first also mentions Israel’s foes, as in Lam. 1:5 (“Her foes have become the head, her enemies prosper, because the Lord has made her suffer for the multitude of her transgressions”). Here, however, we get verses like Lam. 2:8:

The Lord determined to lay in ruins
the wall of daughter Zion;
he stretched the line;
He did not withhold his hand from destroying;
he caused rampart and wall to lament;
they languished together.

Even as pawns, the Babylonians are erased from the narrative.

This is a complete tangent and absolute conjecture, but it made me think of the way Pontius Pilate will be treated in the New Testament. While the agent of Jesus’s death, his role is minimized, and his agency almost taken from him (as in Matt 27:24). A plausible reason for this action is that the Christians (or proto-Christians, or however we want to see the early community of Jesus followers) were in the power of the Romans (or, perhaps, were Romans, at least in some number). They may have had very real pressure not to get too finger-pointy.

And so we may be witnessing the same effect here. The exile community, being very much under the power of the Babylonians and likely wishing to stay in their good graces to some extent, would have had an understandable reason to de-emphasize, or even erase, the Babylonian agency in the destruction of Jerusalem.

There may also be a sense of reclamation. Elsewhere in our reading, when the Israelite army defeats an enemy, it is a show of theistic superiority: Israel won because Israel’s God was stronger. Emphasizing the defeat of Israel as God’s work allows the authors to preserve God’s honour.

The Destruction of the Temple

The loss of the Temple was mentioned only briefly in Lam. 1:4, where the roads leading to Zion mourn as no one uses them to attend the feasts (a vague reference, to be sure).

The Siege and Destruction of Jerusalem, by David Roberts, 1850

The Siege and Destruction of Jerusalem, by David Roberts, 1850

In the second ode, the destruction of the Temple is a dominant theme. It begins in Lam. 2:1, where God is said to have forgotten his footstool (a reference to the mercy-seat, as in 1 Chron. 28:2).

This comes back again in Lam. 2:6, where God “has broken down his booth like that of a garden, laid in ruins the place of his appointed feasts”, and in Lam. 2:7, where God “has scorned his altar, disowned his sanctuary.”

There is also one direct reference to the exile itself, where the narrator tells us that the daughter of Zion’s “king and princes are among the nations” (Lam. 2:9). But the focus of the ode is clearly on Jerusalem itself, and was done to it, rather than on the status of its people.

The Lamentation

As in the first ode, the second half switches to a first person lament. It begins with a description of the narrator’s own grief – “My eyes are spent with weeping” (Lam. 2:11). It then moves into a description of the how the people have been affected, describing them as starving, dying in the streets, and calling out for their mothers.

In Lam. 2:13-19, the narrator addresses the daughter of Jerusalem directly. He blames her prophets for having given her “false and deceptive visions,” for neglecting to “expos[e] your iniquity” (Lam. 2:14).

The narrator tells Jerusalem that she has been disgraced, and that others jeer at her (Lam. 2:15). And in the final portion of the narrator’s address to Jerusalem, he urges her to “cry aloud,” to cry without cease, and to do so for the sake of her children (Lam. 2:18-19).

Closing off the ode, the narrator addresses God, bemoaning the suffering God has brought to the people. He begins by asking if women should eat their offspring, “the children of their tender care”, and if priests and prophets should be killed in the sanctuary of the Lord (Lam. 2:20). We saw the reality of people eating their children in times of extreme starvation in 2 Kgs 6:28-29, in the context of a siege.

God’s anger, the narrator charges, is causing both young and old to lie in dusty streets and be killed by swords (Lam. 2:21). In Lam. 2:22, the narrator says that God invited terrors, as if to a feast – which is beautiful imagery even as the subject is rather horrific.

The ode closes with a particularly evocative line, highlighting the horror of the Israelites seeing their children killed: “Those whom I dandled and reared my enemy destroyed” (Lam. 2:22).

Israel So Named

The ode brings up an alternative way of referencing Israel, as opposed to Jerusalem itself, that I found worth mentioning.Twice, the narrator talks about ‘Jacob’ (Lam. 2:2, Lam. 2:3) – Israel’s original name before he was given a new one in Genesis 32.

I also found it interesting that Israel is mentioned at all, while the focus of both the first and second odes has been on Jerusalem, with the first only talking about Judah when looking beyond the city.

The narrator also talks about “the daughter of my people” (Lam. 2:11) in a way that suggests this refers to the nation. So where elsewhere the daughter is of the place, we see a shift to her being the daughter of the people themselves, though I’m not sure what that means.

Lamentations 1: The Lonely Widow

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I noticed that there seems to be two distinct parts to this chapter. In the first half, the narrator speaks in the third person, and the main character is Jerusalem personified as a woman. In the second half, beginning with Lam. 1:12, a first person voice takes over. Here, the main character appears to be all of Jerusalem/Judah’s people, personified by a singular “I”.

The New Bible Commentary sees a different division, this time into three parts. The first is Lam. 1:1-7, which it titles “The desolation of Jerusalem.” The second, Lam. 1:8-11, is titled “Sin brings suffering.” The third, “A cry for compassion”, is found in Lam. 12:22. Of course, this division doesn’t contradict mine; it merely focuses on theme rather than narration.

In the opening line of the first ode, we get to see an example of the Myth of an Empty Land, which I discussed in my post on 2 Chronicles 36. Here, Jerusalem is described as having once been full of people, but being now lonely. We know, of course, that this not the case, but the imagery of an empty Jerusalem (or, more broadly, an empty Israel) lying fallow in wait for the exile’s to be returned and replanted does seem to have – if you’ll pardon extending the metaphor a little further – taken root among the exile community.

Jerusalem Herself

The description of Jerusalem-as-a-woman seems to go back and forth between pity and disgust. She is a friendless widow whose children have been taken from her in Lam. 1:1, but by Lam. 1:2, she is abandoned by her lovers. Read with modern eyes, she still struck me as the object of pity, but I can see the implicit accusation of infidelity, in no small part thanks to the Chronicler’s clear feelings against political alliances.

"Judaea Capta" coin depicting a captive Jewish man and a Jewish woman in mourning, struck 71 CE

“Judaea Capta” coin depicting a captive Jewish man and a Jewish woman in mourning, struck 71 CE

In that sense, Jerusalem is seen as a promiscuous woman who had had “improper dealings” with other nations, and now finds herself abandoned by these alliances. The argument is therefore made both against Jerusalem herself for her actions, and against the worthiness of the lovers – in other words, the author of Lamentations seems to agree with the Chronicler’s dim view of political alliances.

These lovers have, in fact, become her enemies, and they prosper by her downfall (Lam. 1:5, Lam 1:10), and they mock her (Lam. 1:7).

The sexual/vaginal imagery continues, and I found that aspect of it rather interesting. On the one hand, Jerusalem’s uncleanness “was in her skirts” (Lam. 1:9) and came about when she allowed her nakedness to be seen (Lam. 1:8). Therefore, we can see that her punishment is seen as a result of her promiscuity with other nations. And so there’s a sort of contagion from without, which we see again when forbidden foreigners are said to have entered her sanctuary (Lam. 1:10 – imagery that I knew must have a sexual double meaning when my inner twelve year old started giggling).

But on the other hand, Jerusalem is also seen as a menstruating woman (Lam. 1:17 – the KJV’s translation appears to be literal, while other translations, such as my RSV, give us “filthy thing” instead). Seen this way, Jerusalem’s uncleanness comes from within, but is also temporary. Every period ends, and so I saw almost a hope toward the end of the ode that there would be a time of cleanness to follow.

Despite this, it is abundantly clear that Jerusalem’s suffering are her own fault. God’s judgement is judged just, and the punishment appropriately deserved by the crime (Lam. 1:5).

And Her People

The second portion of the ode focuses on the suffering of Jerusalem/Judah’s people, as expressed with a singular “I.” Here, we see that when God sent down the metaphorical fires of his punishment, they descended “into my bones” (Lam. 1:13). The punishment was direct and personal, striking the narrator (who stands in for the whole community) to their very core.

In a mirroring of the first part of the poem, we hear that the yoke worn by the speaker was formed by the speaker’s own crimes (Lam. 1:15) and justified by the speaker’s rebellion (Lam. 1:18). We also see the poo-poohing of earthly protections, as the same verse tells us that God flouted the mighty men that the speaker had hoped would protect them.

The speaker, too, called out to lovers for aid, but had been abandoned (Lam. 1:19), and both portions of the poem contain references to starvation (Lam 1:11, Lam. 1:19).

There is some interesting imagery in Lam. 1:15, where we read that the “virgin daughter of Judah” was crushed by God as if she had been in a wine press. Elsewhere, vineyards, wine, and wine presses are used as symbols of success and fertility, and yet here we see that very success and fertility used to crush the symbolic representation of Judah. This reflects the idea in the first part of the poem where we are told that Jerusalem’s riches now belong to her enemies (Lam. 1:10).

I had assumed that the ode would end on a note of hope, perhaps an appeal to God to hear the pain of the speaker and show mercy, something like that. But I see no hint of that. The narrator simply seems to accept their suffering. The only hope shown in the final verses is not that the suffering of the Israelites might end, but rather that it be also inflicted on their enemies. “Let them be as I am” (Lam. 1:21).

Introduction to Lamentations

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After so many long books, it’s nice to get another short one! Unfortunately, it’s poetry, which I tend to find difficult to talk about.

The Hebrew Bible is divided into three parts: The Teaching (or “Torah”), Prophets (or “Nevi’im”), and Writings (or “Ketuvim”). Lamentations belongs to this third group, which is a sort of miscellaneous other.

It is also grouped as one of the Megillot, along with Ruth, the Song of Solomon, Ecclesiastes, and Esther. These five books are each traditionally read during certain festivals. In Lamentations’ case, it is read on the Ninth of Ab, which commemorates the destruction of the Temple.

In the rabbinic tradition, the book is called ‘ekhah, or “How!” – the first word of the first verse of the book.


The book is traditionally attributed to the prophet Jeremiah, author of the conveniently named book of Jeremiah. In fact, Lamentations is sometimes called “The Lamentations of Jeremiah.”

The attribution is due to the reference to Jeremiah’s lamentations we saw in 2 Chron. 35:25, which seems like a rather flimsy reason. I mean, it requires a belief that there can only be one set of laments – a belief that is contradicted in the very same verse.

Also, it seems that there are some stylistic issues that make Jeremiah an unlikely author.

It also seems that Lamentations may not have all been written by the same author at all. Some commentaries propose that chapters 2 and 4 may have been written by a separate author.


The New Bible Commentary claims that some have placed the authorship as late as the 160s BCE, seeing a reference to the siege of Jerusalem by Antiochus Epiphanes (p.659). This doesn’t seem to have a lot of traction, though, with the dominant assumption being that Lamentations was written sometime during the exile.

The New Bible Commentary goes on argue the case or this earlier date, and makes connections to Babylonian poetic forms. In particular, the “the daughter of…” who is told to lament her lot, which can apparently be found in some cuneiform writings from the time.


It seems that Lamentations is, primarily, a really depressing acrostic poem. Chapters 1, 2, and 4 begin each verse with a letter of the Hebrew Alphabet, while Lamentations 3 gives each letter three verses instead of only one. The fifth chapter drops the acrostics, though there seems to be a theory that it once did.

The rhythm is a 3:2 beat, which it shares with the book of Jeremiah.

1-2 Chronicles: Conclusion


As we finally come to the close of 2 Chronicles, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on the two books and on some trends I noticed in my reading.

When I wrote my introduction to 1-2 Chronicles, I mentioned that commentaries have seen a two-fold purpose to the books: The first is to provide a model for the ideal kingdom that could be, and the second to warn of what might happen if those who return from the exile fail to bring that kingdom about.

That does seem to bear out in the text, at least for the most part. Though, of course, the Chronicler’s motives do seem to be a little more complicated than that.

The Narrative Arc

I was interested to note how uninterested the Chronicler seems to be in Judah’s final years. Even the destruction of the Temple, which I would have assumed to be an important moment for the Chronicler’s narrative, comes to us only as a summarized version of what we find in Kings.

This disinterest seems to begin after Hezekiah (whose chapters are greatly expanded from the account we have in Kings). Running with this, I considered 1-2 Chronicles as if it ended with Hezekiah’s death. I also cut the non-narrative genealogies from the beginning, since their purpose feels very distinct from the rest of the books.

This left me with a national story that begins with a Golden Age, passes through a human (and morally complex) age, into a depraved age, and then ends with a reformer. As far as stories go, this feels much more mythically satisfying that the books as they are.

It also hints at a clearer purpose. This truncated story shows us what perfection looks like, shows us what realistic goals looks like, and shows us what happens if those goals fail to be met. Then, through Hezekiah, we are given a blueprint for reform.

I suspect that might be why the Chronicler gave Hezekiah a Passover, stealing Josiah’s thunder to do so. Hezekiah was known as a Not Bad king, and a Not Bad king in the middle of the story would ruin the narrative flow. And so the climax, the great restorative Passover, was given to him.

With no story left, the Chronicler hurried through what remained, dropping information that he doesn’t seem to view as strictly necessary (for example, no queen mothers are named after the reign of Hezekiah).

That doesn’t necessarily mean that the Chronicler wasted the final kings of his story, though. I saw a sort of allegory in the retelling of Manasseh, who sinned, was taken captive to Babylon, repented, was sent home, then set to work cleaning up Judah. In Manasseh, the Chronicler tells Israel’s story – though it concludes with a warning, as Manasseh dies and Judah falls once again into the hands of a bad king. “Be diligent,” the story tells the post-exilic Israelites. “Make sure you clean up the land right.” (That doesn’t, of course, mean that the events of Manasseh’s life – even those unique to the Chronicler – didn’t happen. Merely that the Chronicler may have chosen to include those details with a purpose in mind.)

Affairs Of Temple And State

Most commentaries highlight the Chronicler’s emphasis on the Temple – in particular, the priests, the Levites, and the musicians (and wherever those groups overlap). I can definitely see what is meant – there are many places where the Chronicler will add Levites and musicians to verses that are otherwise copied directly from Kings – but it wasn’t nearly as outrageous as I was expecting.

The main difference comes early on, when the musicians are linked very tightly to David. The Temple belongs to Solomon, the law belongs to Moses, and music belongs to David.

While this doesn’t necessarily indicate favouratism, it does seem to indicate familiarity. I agree with the commentaries that the Chronicler does talk like someone who was raised or educated in the cultic musical tradition.

But there’s more to it. Specifically, the focus on the divisions – on the idea that every priest and every Levite has his proper place. This, though, I think falls into the blueprint category, as the Chronicler tries to explain how the society ought to be organized for the coming exiles.

Though I note that affairs of state – except where they touch on purity matters, such as the restriction on making deals with foreign nations – are omitted. The exiles would have been the leadership, and I’m sure a good many of them remained close to leadership in Babylon. They wouldn’t have needed instruction in that regard.

There seems to be an almost messianic hope (though perhaps for a collective messiah, rather than an individual) for a restoration of both the Davidic monarchy and the Temple. However, the Temple’s restoration feels more urgent and important for the Chronicler. In reading these books, I got the sense that the king’s role was to act as provider and protector of the Temple, and this is certainly important. However, kings also come with risk, as they often fail to align with the Temple’s interests.

Throughout my reading, the best kings (outside of the idealized united monarchy) always seem to be those who are under a priest’s thumb – an idea made explicit in 2 Chronicles 24:2.

Cause and Effect

The Chronicler clearly believed that the good are rewarded and the bad are punished. Sometimes, when the guilt is collective, punishment may be delayed for a repentant king (particularly as we get closer to the Chronicler’s own time, and we can make our assumptions about why that may be!). But in most cases, karma is instantaneous.

This philosophy is toxic for some very important reasons that I won’t go into because this isn’t an ethics blog, but the Chronicler does temper it somewhat with the insistence that repentance will always be heard.

I think we can tie this in with the observation James Bradford Pate highlighted about lateness as a theme in Hezekiah. The Passover is celebrated and accepted despite being late, just as a post-exilic Passover after a long lapse would be accepted.

The Chronicler’s beliefs in cause and effect likely explain two important areas where he deviates from Kings: The deaths of Manasseh and of Josiah.

Manasseh – despite being known for his evil deeds – died peacefully, while Josiah – who was known for his goodness – died in battle. To leave these stories as they stand in Kings would be a direct contradiction of the Chronicler’s apparently beliefs. And so we see that Manasseh actually repented, and Josiah actually disobeyed God in the end.

The cause and effect morality comes through very strongly when the Chronicler talks about battles. When Judah wins, it wins by supernatural means – faith, it seems, is the best weapon.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

The Chronicler’s position on the northern tribes seems rather clear: He accepts them as part of the ideal Israel, yet views them as being “in rebellion” (2 Chron. 10:18) against that ideal. And so we see a disinterest in the stories and history of the northern tribes, and even perhaps an animosity toward its “illegitimate” monarchy. But at the same time, there is a hope that they will, one day, cease to be in rebellion and return to the true Israel. We can see this most plainly when Hezekiah invites them to his Passover, and they come.

Burials seem to be very important to the Chronicler, and there’s a lot of judgement in where he allows his kings to be entombed. Only the kings who reach a certain standard of goodness are eligible for burial among the other kings, while the baddies must find their own resting places. There are times when the Chronicler directly contradicts Kings to make this happen, which strikes me as odd for a narrative that, in other ways, presents itself as a historical account. I wonder if the burial locations of the kings were known in his time, or were they destroyed by the Babylonians (or even subsequent kings!)? I can’t imagine that the burial locations would have been well-known, or the Chronicler wouldn’t have dared to contradict what was common knowledge. On the other hand, if the locations were unknown, or if different traditions were in circulation, that would have given him a tool to judge his kings by the location of their burial.

The Chronicler adds a lot of details about construction, specifically about which kings built what during their reigns. I can’t think of a possibly motive for this, except perhaps to highlight the importance of building up Judah’s infrastructure. It could just be that the Chronicler had access to a separate source that contained this information, or perhaps he worked a summer in an office that issued building permits. Who knows?

Many kings get a bit of a makeover. The most obvious examples are, of course, David and Solomon – the Chronicler’s golden boys. But I saw examples of it elsewhere. Even Manasseh, who isn’t particularly liked by the Chronicler, loses his slaughter of the innocents. There seems to be a moral line that the Chronicler will not allow his kings to cross – perhaps a sensible boundary when he seems to be arguing for the monarchy’s reinstatement.

As in Kings, Chronicles seems to conflate monarch and nation (to be fair, this is a problem that goes well beyond the Bible). When the king sins, it is seen as appropriate to punish the nation. And, yet, there seems to be an exception to this – when the king repents, the nation may be spared in his lifetime, but the judgement remains even after his passing.

It is this same anonymity of all but the elite that allows for the “Myth of an Empty Land.” Only by ignoring the existence and value of the poor can the Chronicler tell us that Judah lay fallow during the exile – in direct contradiction of 2 Kgs 25:12. But, again, this isn’t an ethics blog, so we move on…

The last thing I want to mention was brought up by John Collins in A Short History of the Hebrew Bible. In the chapter on Chronicles, he mentions the importance of the book of the law discovered by Josiah – or, rather, it’s lack of importance. In Kings, the book’s importance was clear, and finding it acts as a climax for the account. Here, however, the impact of finding the book is somewhat diluted in several ways. One is that Josiah’s reforms begin before he finds the book, negating much of the impact it had in Kings. Another is that the book of the law is mentioned elsewhere in Chroniclers, such as 2 Chron. 17:9, when Jehoshaphat sent it out into the land to teach the people.


Up until this point, I’ve been reading the Old Testament as it is presented in my RSV. However, there’s no particular reason to stick to that order, so I’ve decided to take the order given by Kenneth C. Davis in Don’t Know Much About the Bible, which takes into consideration both theme and chronology.

Because of this, my next book will be Lamentations, which I will begin on February 1, 2016. As usual, I’ve eaten through my post buffer, and having to write these things the night before they’re do is a huge downer! So the break is to let me build up a healthy buffer again. Since Lamentations is fairly short, I may then go straight into Amos, but we’ll see.

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