Jeremiah’s letter to the exiles contains one of the most widely recognized verses in the Old Testament:
For surely I know the plans I have for you [plural], says the LORD, plans for your [plural] welfare and not for harm, to give you [plural] a future with hope. (Jeremiah 29:11)
This verse, emblazoned on coffee mugs, jewelry, graduation cards, and journals, has provided comfort to countless readers of the Bible. Its beauty is undeniable, and these words are certainly deserving of thoughtful attention.
It may be tempting to roll our eyes at the commercialized interpretations of this text or dismiss the “simplistic” and “uninformed” readings that often ignore its context. But condescension does little to lift weary hearts or honor the genuine solace this verse has offered.
Rather than offering a corrective to these popular interpretations, consider exploring a different set of questions: What is the shape of the hope this verse offers? How is it determined by the realities of human anguish and resilience? In what ways might we find ourselves in need of a similar hope in our own time?
The hopeful fruit this verse yields is a product of being deeply rooted in the collective trauma experienced by the exiled Jewish community. It’s a word given to “y’all” (plural) and not just to “you” (singular). The letter opens by addressing its audience directly: “to the remaining elders among the exiles and to the priests, the prophets, and all the people whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon” (29:1). This anchoring in a concrete historical moment underscores the shared struggle and hope of those who first received Jeremiah’s words.
It is crucial to dig deeper into the composition of Jeremiah’s audience, described specifically as “elders,” “priests,” and “prophets.” More often than not, the bearers of these titles were fiercely criticized by Jeremiah, who held them responsible for the violent events that led to the exile of many Jews to Mesopotamia (see, for example, 1:18; 2:8, 26; 4:9; 5:31; 6:13; 8:1, 10; 13:13; 14:18; 18:18).
The fact that Jeremiah continues to address these groups—despite their vociferous and sometimes violent opposition to his ministry—demonstrates the prophet’s commitment to his message. In contrast to the first part of the book, which emphasizes judgment, Jeremiah’s message in chapter 29, and even more so in chapters 30–33, depicts him also as a prophet of hope.
What we see in Jeremiah 29 captures the spirit of Leviticus 19:18, a text that was deeply important to Jesus’ own understanding of Jewish law: “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.”
But what was the shape of the hope that Jeremiah promised? It has several characteristics: It was delayed and multigenerational in scope; it was a collective hope of return to Judah; it shaped everyday life; it was contested by other prophets.
The Jewish community in Babylon was called to endure a season of exile: “For thus says the LORD: Only when Babylon’s seventy years are completed will I visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place” (verse 10). Jeremiah’s hope was set against a long, multigenerational horizon. It was a hope that would be realized by future generations, not those who first heard the letter. The initial hearers would not ultimately be the beneficiaries.
“Hope” is often understood simply as wishful thinking: I hope we get a lot of rain this year. I hope things work out. I hope things go our way. But for Jeremiah, hope shapes action.
Instead of trying to manufacture a speedy return to Judah (verse 8), Jeremiah calls upon his audience to exercise active, hopeful patience by putting down roots, building lives, and even working for the prosperity of their conqueror: “Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (verses 6–7).
Jeremiah’s words challenge the exiles not just to hold onto hope but to act upon it through practical, everyday actions: build, live, plant, eat, marry, give, bear, multiply, seek, and pray. These dynamic verbs call for active engagement with the world around them, even in the unfamiliar and often hostile environment of Babylon. Hope, in Jeremiah’s vision, is not passive or abstract—it is lived out in the rhythms of daily life.
This message carries a profound and unsettling theological claim: The exiles’ well-being is inseparably bound to the well-being of Babylon. Jeremiah urges them to move beyond despair or detachment, reframing their situation as an opportunity to cultivate community, foster prosperity, and work for the common good. By encouraging them to invest in relationships, nurture families, and build meaningful lives, even in exile, Jeremiah redefines hope as a transformative act of faith. It is hope that resists resignation and takes root in the belief that flourishing is possible—even in unlikely places.
Jeremiah’s message is hopeful and hard. How could one possibly work for the good of those who had destroyed their way of life, perhaps even taken the lives of their loved ones? Goodwill is difficult enough under ordinary circumstances, let alone in the aftermath of war.
Jeremiah was not the only voice seeking the trust of the exiles and promoting a vision for their future. He warned them explicitly: “Do not let the prophets and the diviners who are among you deceive you, and do not listen to the dreams that you dream, for it is a lie that they are prophesying to you in my name; I did not send them, says the LORD” (verses 8–9). These words suggest that alternative visions of Judah’s future were actively circulating, vying for influence among the exiles.
This contest over the future is hardly surprising. Our vision of what lies ahead profoundly shapes the choices we make—or don’t make—in the present: It influences whom we choose to trust, how we allocate our resources, and what commands our attention and imagination. The future, in this sense, is not a neutral space—it is deeply contested, because the story we believe about tomorrow determines how we engage with today.
Jeremiah’s missive is an important witness to the exilic faith of ancient Jews. But it also offers gifts to modern readers. It serves as a poignant reminder to preachers and teachers of our calling to nurture the horizons of human hope. Human beings make decisions based on where we believe we are going, what we believe will happen in the future, and whom we imagine accompanying us into that future.
PRAYER OF THE DAY
God of hope,
How often have we found ourselves in exile, separated from your presence! Restore us, and let us find you when we seek you. Amen.
Jeremiah’s letter to the exiles contains one of the most widely recognized verses in the Old Testament:
For surely I know the plans I have for you [plural], says the LORD, plans for your [plural] welfare and not for harm, to give you [plural] a future with hope. (Jeremiah 29:11)
This verse, emblazoned on coffee mugs, jewelry, graduation cards, and journals, has provided comfort to countless readers of the Bible. Its beauty is undeniable, and these words are certainly deserving of thoughtful attention.
It may be tempting to roll our eyes at the commercialized interpretations of this text or dismiss the “simplistic” and “uninformed” readings that often ignore its context. But condescension does little to lift weary hearts or honor the genuine solace this verse has offered.
Rather than offering a corrective to these popular interpretations, consider exploring a different set of questions: What is the shape of the hope this verse offers? How is it determined by the realities of human anguish and resilience? In what ways might we find ourselves in need of a similar hope in our own time?
The hopeful fruit this verse yields is a product of being deeply rooted in the collective trauma experienced by the exiled Jewish community. It’s a word given to “y’all” (plural) and not just to “you” (singular). The letter opens by addressing its audience directly: “to the remaining elders among the exiles and to the priests, the prophets, and all the people whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon” (29:1). This anchoring in a concrete historical moment underscores the shared struggle and hope of those who first received Jeremiah’s words.
It is crucial to dig deeper into the composition of Jeremiah’s audience, described specifically as “elders,” “priests,” and “prophets.” More often than not, the bearers of these titles were fiercely criticized by Jeremiah, who held them responsible for the violent events that led to the exile of many Jews to Mesopotamia (see, for example, 1:18; 2:8, 26; 4:9; 5:31; 6:13; 8:1, 10; 13:13; 14:18; 18:18).
The fact that Jeremiah continues to address these groups—despite their vociferous and sometimes violent opposition to his ministry—demonstrates the prophet’s commitment to his message. In contrast to the first part of the book, which emphasizes judgment, Jeremiah’s message in chapter 29, and even more so in chapters 30–33, depicts him also as a prophet of hope.
What we see in Jeremiah 29 captures the spirit of Leviticus 19:18, a text that was deeply important to Jesus’ own understanding of Jewish law: “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.”
But what was the shape of the hope that Jeremiah promised? It has several characteristics: It was delayed and multigenerational in scope; it was a collective hope of return to Judah; it shaped everyday life; it was contested by other prophets.
The Jewish community in Babylon was called to endure a season of exile: “For thus says the LORD: Only when Babylon’s seventy years are completed will I visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place” (verse 10). Jeremiah’s hope was set against a long, multigenerational horizon. It was a hope that would be realized by future generations, not those who first heard the letter. The initial hearers would not ultimately be the beneficiaries.
“Hope” is often understood simply as wishful thinking: I hope we get a lot of rain this year. I hope things work out. I hope things go our way. But for Jeremiah, hope shapes action.
Instead of trying to manufacture a speedy return to Judah (verse 8), Jeremiah calls upon his audience to exercise active, hopeful patience by putting down roots, building lives, and even working for the prosperity of their conqueror: “Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (verses 6–7).
Jeremiah’s words challenge the exiles not just to hold onto hope but to act upon it through practical, everyday actions: build, live, plant, eat, marry, give, bear, multiply, seek, and pray. These dynamic verbs call for active engagement with the world around them, even in the unfamiliar and often hostile environment of Babylon. Hope, in Jeremiah’s vision, is not passive or abstract—it is lived out in the rhythms of daily life.
This message carries a profound and unsettling theological claim: The exiles’ well-being is inseparably bound to the well-being of Babylon. Jeremiah urges them to move beyond despair or detachment, reframing their situation as an opportunity to cultivate community, foster prosperity, and work for the common good. By encouraging them to invest in relationships, nurture families, and build meaningful lives, even in exile, Jeremiah redefines hope as a transformative act of faith. It is hope that resists resignation and takes root in the belief that flourishing is possible—even in unlikely places.
Jeremiah’s message is hopeful and hard. How could one possibly work for the good of those who had destroyed their way of life, perhaps even taken the lives of their loved ones? Goodwill is difficult enough under ordinary circumstances, let alone in the aftermath of war.
Jeremiah was not the only voice seeking the trust of the exiles and promoting a vision for their future. He warned them explicitly: “Do not let the prophets and the diviners who are among you deceive you, and do not listen to the dreams that you dream, for it is a lie that they are prophesying to you in my name; I did not send them, says the LORD” (verses 8–9). These words suggest that alternative visions of Judah’s future were actively circulating, vying for influence among the exiles.
This contest over the future is hardly surprising. Our vision of what lies ahead profoundly shapes the choices we make—or don’t make—in the present: It influences whom we choose to trust, how we allocate our resources, and what commands our attention and imagination. The future, in this sense, is not a neutral space—it is deeply contested, because the story we believe about tomorrow determines how we engage with today.
Jeremiah’s missive is an important witness to the exilic faith of ancient Jews. But it also offers gifts to modern readers. It serves as a poignant reminder to preachers and teachers of our calling to nurture the horizons of human hope. Human beings make decisions based on where we believe we are going, what we believe will happen in the future, and whom we imagine accompanying us into that future.
PRAYER OF THE DAY
God of hope,
How often have we found ourselves in exile, separated from your presence! Restore us, and let us find you when we seek you. Amen.
HYMNS
Evening and morning ELW 761
Praise, my soul, the king of heaven ELW 865, H82 410, UMH 66
CHORAL
A sound of angels, Christopher Tye
Adoramus te Christe, Giovanni Palestrina