In his forthcoming book The Tears of Things, Father Richard Rohr challenges the stereotypical Christian understanding of a prophet:
When we picture a prophet of the Old Testament—and there are many of them, more than thirty, including seven women—most of us imagine an angry, wild-haired person ranting and raving at the people of Israel for their many sins or predicting future doom. Some of the prophets did just that, but my years of study, conversation, and contemplation have shown me that this prevailing image is not the truest or most important reality of their work, calling, or messages. [1]
Rohr explores the path that prophets revealed in Scripture:
Until we move on from that common stereotype, we won’t recognize the prophets as truth speakers who have walked a journey to where truth has led them. This journey leads the prophets to an immense sadness, shared with God, about the human situation. Unless we allow Scripture to reveal this developmental understanding, we can’t get there. We just look for isolated verses that fit our needs, and most of the isolated statements in the first half of every prophet’s life are angry.
The prophets rage against sin as if they were above or better than it—then move into solidarity with it. Please understand that sin is not as much malice as woundedness. Sin is suffering. Sin is sadness. Many of us have learned this truth from studying addictions, where it’s become more clear that sin deserves pity, not judgment.
Sin is also the personal experience of the tragic absurdity of reality. It leads us to compassion. We must have compassion for the self, for how incapable we are of love, of mercy, of forgiveness. Our love is not infinite like God’s love. It’s measured—and usually measured out according to deservedness. But that’s not how YHWH treats ancient Israel, which was always unfaithful to the covenant. God is forever faithful. That’s the only consistent pattern.
Eventually, the prophet stops standing above, apart from, or superior to reality and enters into solidarity with human suffering and human sinfulness. Jesus does this throughout his life by touching lepers and eating with sinners. He goes out of his way to bless those who are hurting. But we don’t know how to do that as long as we place ourselves higher than another, believing we’re not sinners or fellow sufferers. [2]
My favorite thing about the prophetic books of the Bible is that they show a whole series of people in evolution of their understanding of God. Like most of us, the prophets started not only with judgmentalism and anger but also with a superiority complex of placing themselves above others. Then, in various ways, that outlook falls apart over the course of their writings. They move from that anger and judgmentalism to a reordered awareness in which they become more like God: more patient like God, more forgiving like God, more loving like God. [3]
The Role of the Prophets
In The Tears of Things Richard Rohr offers a history of Israel’s prophets and the unique role they played:
The prophets called Israel many times to return to the covenant God made with them at Mount Sinai. After leading the people out of Egyptian slavery, God supplied the law, including the Ten Commandments, that was meant to govern and shape their lives in the Promised Land. They were to refrain from lying, stealing, committing adultery, and so on.
This was Morality 101, the basic order without which a society cannot maintain itself. But the people usually fell short, often disastrously so. They substituted purity codes and performance for the spirit of that law. They forgot not only what they had promised but also how much and how deeply YHWH cared for them. There was a deep need, then and now, for someone who would call the people to return to God and to justice. Someone who would warn them, critique them, and reveal God’s heart to them. We call them prophets, and every religion needs them.
For hundreds of pivotal years—starting around 1300 BCE and continuing through the eras of Israel’s kingdom, exile, and conquest—prophets like Samuel, Jonah, Amos, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel performed this utterly important task. Besides being truth tellers, they were radical change agents, messengers of divine revelation, teachers of a moral alternative, and deconstructors of every prevailing order. Both Isaiah 21 and Ezekiel 3 describe a prophet as a “sentry” or a “watcher,” whose job is to hold Israel maddeningly honest, and to stop them from relying on arms, money, lies, and power to keep themselves safe and in control.
In this way, they introduced a completely novel role into ancient religion: an officially licensed critic, a devil’s advocate who names and exposes their own group’s shadow side! Few cultures, if any, develop such a counterintuitive role. By nature, civilization is intent on success and building and has little time for self-critique. We disparage the other team and work ceaselessly to prove loyalty to our own.
The same dynamics operate today, with those in power or trying to gain power more interested in protecting their own interests and positions than in seeking justice. We must be eternally conscious of this fact: For the untransformed self, religion is the most dangerous temptation of all. Our egos, when they are validated by religion, are given full permission to enslave, segregate, demean, defraud, and inflate—because all bases are covered with pre-ascribed virtue and a supposed hatred of evil. This is what the prophets expose in their wholesale assault on temple worship, priestly classes, self-serving commandments, and intergenerational wealth. “Be very careful here!” they keep shouting. The prophets know that religion is the best and that religion also risks being the worst. We love to choose sides and declare ourselves sinless and pure and orthodox (“right”), with little evidence that it is true. This is always a surprise to everyone except the prophets.
| The Idol of Mission: Beware the Lie of Missionalism |
 Click Here for AudioI’ve already quoted Tim Keller a number of times in this series on idolatry, but it’s worth repeating his very helpful definition. He said, “An idol is usually a very good thing that we make into an ultimate thing.” That certainly applies to the church’s favorite idol—the mission of God. The goodness of God’s mission in the world is beyond argument. The reconciliation of all things to him through the cross is a beautiful and inspiring message, and that he invites us to participate in this work is stunning. The mission of God is a very, very good thing.But it is not the ultimate thing. It too can be twisted into an idol that we value more than God himself. Sadly, in our efforts to elevate the goodness and importance of God’s mission, we can unknowingly turn it into a false god that comes to define our lives and value. It’s especially tempting to those within Christian communities who long for significance. The best way to be affirmed in many churches is to devote yourself to Christ’s mission. After all, achieving great things for God is much easier to see and celebrate than developing a deep life with him. If a Christian community celebrates accomplishments more than character, it’s a pretty good indication that Christ’s mission has come to replace Christ himself. Gordon MacDonald coined a term for this temptation. He calls it “missionalism.” It is “the belief that the worth of one’s life is determined by the achievement of a grand objective.” He continues:“Missionalism starts slowly and gains a foothold in the leader’s attitude. Before long the mission controls almost everything: time, relationships, health, spiritual depth, ethics, and convictions. In advanced stages, missionalism means doing whatever it takes to solve the problem. In its worst iteration, the end always justifies the means. The family goes; health is sacrificed; integrity is jeopardized; God-connection is limited.” Ultimately, missionalism is rooted in the lie that your worth is proportional to your impact. It’s a lie that the church often celebrates, but our Lord never does. Remember, when Jesus was baptized by John, the voice of God the Father declared, “This is my beloved Son with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17). At this point in his life, Jesus hadn’t yet preached a sermon, he hadn’t called a disciple, he hadn’t performed a miracle, or overcome temptation in the wilderness. He hadn’t confronted the Pharisees or endured the cross. In fact, he had not yet accomplished anything we might label “missional.” And yet, he still had the Father’s love and approval. It’s a reminder that while God’s mission is important, abiding in the love of God himself is ultimate. DAILY SCRIPTURE MATTHEW 3:13-17 1 CORINTHIANS 13:1-13 WEEKLY PRAYERIgnatius Loyola (1495–1556) Lord Jesus Christ, fill us, we pray, with your light and life, that we may reveal your wondrous glory. Grant that your love may so fill our lives that we may count nothing too small to do for you, nothing too much to give and nothing too hard to bear. Amen. |
