“By the Rivers of Babylon”
“By the Rivers of Baylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion” (Psalm 137:1). Americans love to travel to other places to see either beautiful landscapes or historical sites. But the people of Jerusalem were not visiting Babylon on vacation. They did not arrange with a tour guide to see the Hanging Gardens. No. They were forcibly removed from their homeland to a place a long distance away. Imagine traveling around 750 miles—on foot. They did not travel of their own volition, nor were they treated as honored guests; they had been defeated and had grown disheartened. No longer were they a free people; they came to Babylon as captives. As they considered the contrast of their past life with what they now had to endure, they wept. How much better were the homes that they left and the temple in Jerusalem!
They brought harps with them, but they had set them aside since they had nothing to celebrate. Joy had been left behind (v. 2). But the citizens of this foreign nation mocked them. They required of them “mirth,” as though it were a festive occasion. “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” they insisted (v. 3). Many of the psalms glorified God for all His power. Sure, why not make these ragtag slaves sing, “Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless His holy name!” (Psalm 103)? Why not sing about “all His benefits” (v. 2) and His forgiveness (v. 3)? Such lyrics would provide humor for the Babylonians. Maybe they could sing about God conquering their enemies—delivering them from Egypt or granting them Canaan.
The reply of God’s people is totally understandable: “How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” They undoubtedly thought of the honor they had received—to have a special covenant with God, the Creator of all mankind, and to have been given Jerusalem for an inheritance. They, among all the peoples of the earth, had been given permission to build the temple on Mount Zion to honor God’s greatness. They had been exalted so high and granted so many privileges that it was hard to tolerate being brought so low. And they now knew it was their own fault. They deserved their punishment.
But, “Do you want a song, O conquerors of Israel? How about this one?”: “If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill!” (v. 5). “If I do not remember you, let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth—if I do not exalt Jerusalem above my chief joy” (v. 6). In other words, “I have not forgotten the land God gave us. I will not forget His covenant. I will not forget the prophecies that He will bring back a penitent people.” The psalmist calls upon God to remember their enemies—the Edomites who cheered Jerusalem’s destruction and the Babylonians who brought it about. A day was coming when God would repay them for their barbarism (137:7-9). The haughty Babylon would probably have no songs, either—and no hope.