JEREMIAH: Behind the Scenes
The book of Jeremiah has a reputation for being difficult. It is long, emotionally intense, theologically challenging and, perhaps most confusing of all, structurally untidy.
Unlike Isaiah, which often feels carefully arranged, or Ezekiel, which follows a clearer narrative arc, Jeremiah can feel like a collection of sermons, poems, stories, and laments stitched together in no obvious order.
Yet many biblical scholars would argue that this messiness is part of the message. Jeremiah is a book shaped by trauma, exile, and theological upheaval.
In this post, I want to explore three interrelated aspects of the book:
Its textual complexity,
Its theological vision, and
Its overall structure and shape.
Along the way, I’ll draw on critical scholarship and historical evidence to show why Jeremiah is such a distinctive and demanding part of Scripture.
One of the first surprises for readers of Jeremiah is that there isn’t just one version of the book.
Modern Bibles are usually based on the Masoretic Text (the traditional Hebrew text), but ancient manuscripts reveal another major version preserved in the Greek Septuagint.
The Greek Jeremiah is around one-eighth shorter than the Hebrew and arranges large sections of the material differently, particularly the oracles against the nations.
Most scholars now agree that this is not simply a case of translation differences. Rather, the evidence suggests that Jeremiah circulated in more than one edition. The Greek version likely reflects an earlier stage of the book’s development, while the Hebrew version represents a later, expanded form.
This has several important implications:
Jeremiah was not produced all at once but grew over time.
Editorial activity continued well beyond the prophet’s lifetime.
The book preserves traces of theological reflection after the events it describes.
The book itself hints at this process. Jeremiah 36 describes the prophet dictating his words to Baruch, the scribe, after an earlier scroll had been destroyed. When the scroll is rewritten, it includes “many similar words added to them” (Jer 36:32). Many scholars see this as a window into how the book as a whole came into being: prophetic oracles preserved, reworked, expanded, and reapplied across decades.
Rather than undermining the authority of the book, this textual complexity reminds us that Jeremiah is deeply embedded in history.
It is theology written in real time.
Many scholars explain Jeremiah’s theological shape by pointing to the interaction between Jeremianic traditions and the Deuteronomistic History (DH).
The Deuteronomistic editors - often associated with the circles responsible for Deuteronomy through Kings - appear to have provided much of the book’s interpretive framework: covenant obedience, exclusive worship of God, and the conviction that national disaster follows persistent unfaithfulness.
At the same time, the book preserves distinctive Jeremianic material that does not always sit comfortably within this framework, including sharp critiques of temple ideology (Jer 7), moments of divine hesitation or grief, and the prophet’s personal laments.
Many scholars therefore suggest that Jeremiah reflects a layered editorial process in which Deuteronomistic theology shaped the final form of the book while allowing earlier prophetic voices to remain visible. The result is not a single, harmonised viewpoint but a dialogical text in which prophetic protest and theological interpretation are held together.
This interaction is especially visible when Jeremiah is read alongside the reforms of Josiah described in 2 Kings 22–23, which play a foundational role in DH literature. According to Kings, the discovery of a “book of the law” during Josiah’s reign prompted sweeping reforms: the removal of high places, the suppression of worshipping other gods, and the centralisation of sacrifice in Jerusalem.
Most scholars identify this ‘book’, at least in part, with an early form of Deuteronomy, and see Josiah’s reign as a moment of theological optimism later re-evaluated after the exile. DH literature presents Josiah as an exemplary king, yet also insists that his faithfulness could not ultimately avert judgment because of Judah’s long history of sin.
Jeremiah appears to emerge from this same historical moment, sometimes aligned with Josiah’s reforming impulse and sometimes pushing beyond it, particularly in his scepticism toward institutional religion and his insistence that genuine covenant faithfulness must be internal rather than merely cultic. Read together, DH and Jeremiah suggest a shared theological project shaped by reform, failure, and reflection - edited in exile to explain not only what went wrong, but why even the best reforms proved insufficient without deeper transformation.
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Jeremiah’s theology is often associated with judgment. No other prophetic book spends so long insisting that disaster is not accidental, but theological.
At the heart of Jeremiah’s message lies a Deuteronomistic worldview. Like Deuteronomy and the books of Kings, Jeremiah interprets Israel’s history through the lens of covenant faithfulness and failure.
Idolatry, injustice, and trust in false securities (the temple, alliances, kingship) are repeatedly named as the reasons for Judah’s collapse.
Many scholars argue that Jeremiah stands close to the theological tradition behind Deuteronomy and Kings. The language of covenant violation, warning, and inevitable consequence is unmistakable. Yet Jeremiah is not simply repeating inherited ideas; he is wrestling with them in the face of catastrophe.
One of the most striking features of Jeremiah is its portrayal of God. God is not distant or unmoved. Instead, the text depicts a God who grieves, rages, relents, and suffers.
Jeremiah 2–6 presents God as a wounded partner in a broken relationship. Elsewhere, God speaks of being torn between judgment and compassion (e.g. Jer 31:20). This emotional intensity has led some scholars to describe Jeremiah as offering one of the most relational theologies in the Hebrew Bible (our Old Testament).
At the same time, Jeremiah refuses to resolve the tension neatly.
God’s love does not cancel judgment and judgment does not cancel love.
Both remain in uneasy coexistence.
Jeremiah is known for its promise of a “new covenant” (Jer 31:31–34). In context, this is not a rejection of Israel’s past but a response to its failure.
The problem, Jeremiah suggests, is not the covenant itself but the people’s inability to live it from the heart. Rather than law written on stone, the new covenant is written internally. Many scholars note that this is less about replacing Torah and more about deepening obedience.
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Readers often look for a clear outline of Jeremiah and come away frustrated. The book resists linear reading.
Broadly speaking, scholars often identify several major sections:
Chapters 1–25: Oracles of judgment against Judah and Jerusalem
Chapters 26–45: Narrative material about Jeremiah’s life and ministry
Chapters 46–51: Oracles against the nations
Chapter 52: A historical appendix describing the fall of Jerusalem
Yet even within these sections, chronology is loose. Later events appear before earlier ones; themes recur rather than progress; sermons are repeated in varied forms.
Many scholars argue that Jeremiah is organised thematically rather than chronologically. Others suggest that the book is shaped liturgically or rhetorically, designed to be heard in fragments rather than read straight through.
Importantly, the disorder may be intentional. The book reflects the collapse of the old certainties: temple, land, monarchy, and even prophetic authority itself. The disorder of the text reflects, in a way, the disorder it describes.
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Perhaps the most important interpretive key to Jeremiah is exile. Even material that predates 587 BC is preserved and arranged from an exilic or post-exilic perspective.
From this angle, Jeremiah becomes a book asking urgent questions:
How do we speak about God after disaster?
What does faithfulness look like when the structures have failed?
Can hope exist without denial?
Jeremiah does not offer easy answers. Instead, it models theological honesty. It allows protest, lament, confusion, and even accusation, while still insisting that God is not finished with God’s people.
That may be why Jeremiah has remained so powerful across centuries. It is Scripture that does not rush to resolution. It sits with loss, yet refuses to surrender hope.
Jeremiah is not a book to master quickly.
Its textual complexity, theological depth, and fractured structure demand patience.
But if we’re willing to stay with it, Jeremiah offers something rare: a faith forged in the fire of history, unafraid of doubt, and stubbornly committed to hope.
In that sense, the very things that make Jeremiah difficult may also be what make it indispensable.