When the Queen of Heaven Had Better Yelp Reviews

Jeremiah 44 caught my attention today because of how direct the conversation is between Jeremiah and the people of Judah. What unfolds is less a back-and-forth and more of a confrontation. Jeremiah accuses them of continuing to worship other gods, specifically the Queen of Heaven. The people's response? They double down. "We will do whatever we want," they say. "We will burn incense and pour out liquid offerings to the Queen of Heaven just as much as we like" (Jeremiah 44:17, NLT).

When Nostalgia Becomes a Theological Argument

It’s not just defiance. It's almost nostalgia. They argue that when they were worshiping her, life was better. They had food, peace, and stability. Things only went south, they say, when they stopped. From their point of view, this isn’t rebellion; it’s logic based on lived experience.

What do you do with that? There’s something very human about reaching for what once seemed to work. Even if the system was flawed or forbidden, it provided a sense of control. Maybe it felt less chaotic. Maybe it made sense in a way that Jeremiah’s dire warnings didn’t.

Flashback Thinking: The Comfort of the Known

I wonder how often this kind of reasoning still plays out. When faced with fear or uncertainty, there’s a tendency to go back to the familiar, even if it’s part of what caused the trouble in the first place. That can mean habits, ideas, or communities that offered comfort—but may not hold up under scrutiny. In the case of Judah, the Queen of Heaven represented more than a deity. She represented a time when they felt things were working.

Jeremiah, on the other hand, sees that period differently. He insists that worshiping other gods is precisely what led to their downfall. His view is that they’re mistaking coincidence for cause. It’s not an easy conversation, and it doesn’t end in agreement.

The Women Speak: "We Had a System, Thank You"

One small moment that stood out to me is in verse 19, where the women push back: "Besides," they say, "do you suppose that we were worshiping the Queen of Heaven and pouring out liquid offerings to her without our husbands knowing it and helping us?" It suggests shared responsibility, maybe even a defense against being singled out. There's a social element here, a collective belief system that isn't so easy to unravel.

Jeremiah gives his message; the people reject it. And yet the exchange is preserved, detail by detail. It reads less like a morality tale and more like a record of disagreement, memory, and meaning. Everyone involved seems convinced they know what really happened and why. It leaves a lot of room for reflection on how humans try to make sense of cause and effect—and what we cling to when things fall apart.