In the book of Psalms there is one that speaks of singing
the Psalms of Zion when the children of Israel were in captivity. As I read
this recently, I saw something different than I had seen before. In the dysfunctional group I was in, this
scripture was used to capture and portray that the only place to be was in that
group and anywhere else is captivity. The leader used to say ‘You can’t sing
the songs of Zion in a strange land…’ Meaning to depart the group would be leaving
Zion. But as context is considered, the argument seems flipped and as so many
times before, quotes and verses used out of context to make a point that bends
truth to the group’s mindset. Actually, the scripture is about the captives of
Babylon that could not sing about Zion because they were not there, they were
captives of an oppressive master. It was their origin and source of all they
are that was now dried up. It goes like
this:
For there they that carried us away captive required of us
a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of
the songs of Zion. How shall we sing the LORD'S song in a strange land? If I
forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not
remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not
Jerusalem above my chief joy.
Below are my thoughts on the proper context:
This scripture I have heard a thousand times used to
separate people from their kin. The premise was ‘you have a new home’, ‘you
have a new family’. ‘Forget the old ways and embrace the new.’ ‘The past was a
drag on who you are now. Embrace the new and become the new’. Little did I
realize then how this could never be. Why? It is an artificial life filled with
busyness and activity to distract while life hurls by at a break-neck pace. This
tactic is so similar to Scientology’s strategy, it is almost the same. The idea
is to keep the patrons so busy with achieving rungs on a ladder, all sense of
true importance (family, personal goals, etc) are sacrificed to the cause. In
this blur of industry, activity and huge sums of money being fleeced, One year
becomes three becomes five and ten. You look in the mirror as a youth and turn
again to see the crows foot and wrinkle with a weaker eye. You strain to see
what once was and there is only a glimpse caught at the right angle and in the
passing swirl of motion as you peer closer. What is it that you see and feel at
that moment of remembrance? It is the man or woman boy or girl that you once
were before all the industry and kingdom building. It is the hope of a bright
future and outlook of a coming life now jaundiced by industry and effort the
leads to yet more of the same. The songs you once played now are but a distant
recollection and you can barely remember how the tune goes because the din of the cadence of the new
song permeates everything and drowns out who and what you once were. Soft and
suppleness has been tanned into strong cords of self-pride bordering on
arrogance and the freedom once felt is now constrained by the life you have
committed to live.
Why is this shadow of recollection on your life? Why will
you not let go of it? Because it is the
song of Zion. The song of where you come from and mountain from which you were
carved from.
The real you.
This is my story and the story of my children albeit they
would never admit it. To leave that is to leave oneself and be cast adrift in a
sea of ambiguity and complicity. Take a step back for a moment and look at your
hands. Who do they remind you of? Are they your father’s or mothers? Is the squint and smirk you possess
manufactured in the life you have embraced or are they from something deeper
and more permanent? When you cannot sleep and your thoughts fly, to what and to
whom do they fly to? These are the sounds and chords of the songs of Zion the
songs of Home where love is plentiful and unending and where laughter and mirth
at the meeting are more intoxicating than any other potion, song or
incantation.
The songs of Zion cannot be sung in a strange land no
matter how it is portrayed. Why? It is a land of captivity no matter how well
dressed and ensconced it is. The harp remains on the willow tree and with some
it will remain until they breathe their last breath. Taking the full brunt and
volume of regret to let all that is real pass.
Only do not call yourself full because of your industry,
your credo or dogma. They cannot fill you. It is only the love of those from
where you were hewn who can fill that void. To believe anything else is a lie.
To call yourself full when you are nothing but a hollow man.
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