On Remembering

Many years ago, I read a Paulo Coelho book entitled “By the River Piedra, I Sat Down and Wept.” At the moment, I don’t recall much of the details of the book except for two things: first, it tells the story of a young woman named Pilar and her childhood friend: a young, charismatic, and handsome man who, in the story, travels with Pilar as she embarks on a journey of self-discovery as they cross over the Spanish border into France. The plot thickens: there is a lot of passionate, romantic chemistry between Pilar and her friend. In fact, he is in love with Pilar and she likewise loves him; but then the thing is, he’s a seminarian. The second detail, and perhaps the more important one: the title of the book alludes to Psalm 137, which begins with the verse: “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat weeping when we remembered Zion.”

            Psalm 137 expresses the yearning of the Jewish people during the Babylonian exile: how they refuse to sing the Lord’s song in a strange land; how they exhort themselves so as not to forget about Jerusalem; and how their great suffering leads them to conjure images of a violent revenge against their captors. This psalm came to mind as we discussed that slide in last session’s lecture which said: “At the time Jesus was born, there was no kingdom to speak of, no Davidic heir in the wings. Still, the devout awaited the fulfillment of God’s promises: they were awaiting the consolation of Israel.”    

            What a beautiful thing it is to be remembered so profoundly, the way the Israelites held on the memory of God: how in the midst of their hardships and trials they continued to latch on to God’s promises – generation after generation, century after century. What a beautiful display of faith: that God’s chosen people refused to believe that God had forgotten them, even if the signs of the times seem to point to the possibility of the tragedy of being forgotten.

Beautiful as it were, I would like to believe that it is not just by their own volition that the people of Israel have persisted in faithful waiting for the fulfillment of the Davidic covenant. I would like to believe that through the dark times of the exile, God’s overflowing grace also came into play and sustained his chosen people as they awaited the coming of the messiah. During this time of much suffering and suppression, the Jewish people came to reap much spiritual fruit, as the times paved the way for an intense growth in prayer and worship, and obedience to the laws of the Lord to the point of martyrdom. As Scott Hahn would put it, “Yet during this period of suffering and subjugation and martyrdom, the Jews experienced a profoundly deep conversion to the Lord. Arguably, this period presents the climax of the Old Testament, at least from a spiritual perspective. In the absence of prophets and kings, the Jews had nothing to lean on but the Lord.”  

This display of faithfulness, trust, and reliance in the Lord becomes all the more beautiful when you consider the elements of the Davidic covenant, particularly its sign. Last week, we discussed again that covenant signs are established in each covenant as a reminder and celebration of the covenant. The Davidic covenant’s sign is the temple and the throne, and I can imagine how difficult it must have been for the Israelites to hang on to the promise of God in the absence or distance from these visible signs during the exile. And yet, they persisted, and in fact were drawn even closer to God.         

It thus becomes so easy to understand and appreciate the excitement that Zechariah and Simeon felt when they came face to face with the Lord, and how thrilled they must have been to finally get a sense of the fulfillment of God’s promise: finally, the Lord is keeping his end of the covenant: sending us someone who will liberate us from the hands of our enemies and thus allow us to worship God without fear; a redeemer that will “give glory to Israel and shall be a light for revelation to the Gentiles” – thus offering universal salvation for all nations.

The Israelites’ story of exile shows us that indeed good things come to those who are faithful in waiting, and I would like to believe that this is also the invitation for me and my Arvisu House brothers at this point. At a time that is filled with uncertainty and anxious waiting for the coming of the result of our application to the novitiate, there is a need to persist and continue believing that God will ultimately reveal to us the path that will best lead us to Him – whether that be through the roads that lead to the Sacred Heart Novitiate, or to the arms of a Pilar who awaits us in her River Piedra, or wherever else God may be waiting.