Unexpected prophets

When we hear the word prophet, the almost immediate thought that comes to mind is the typical Greek myth of the Oracle at Delphi, where someone, overcome with a certain... fit of madness... proclaims what is to happen in the future. We get the image of someone who is divinely granted a vision of what will come regardless of the circumstances. The words “fate” and “inevitability” may come to mind with the notion of prophet.

And yet, in the Judaeo-Christian tradition, prophecy means something quite different. The prophet was someone who lived on the fringes of society, a place that according to Sacred Scripture was rather important and even dear to God. How much of the Old (and New) Testament is concerned with care for the poor? The orphaned? The widows? The immigrant?

All those who could be described as marginalized—whether spiritually, economically, physically, or emotionally—are of particular importance to the God of justice and love. For it is here, with the oppressed and the broken, with all of humanity, that God has become flesh and made his dwelling among us. And from here, we hear the cry of the poor. The cry for healing. The cry for justice.

The prophet in the Judaeo-Christian is someone who, living on the fringes of society, abides in a particular closeness to God, the God who takes on human brokenness and brings it in closer to himself. From here the prophet is voice of the marginalized. The voice of those who have no voice due to the powers that be. The voice of justice. It is the prophet who cries out to the leaders and the people that sin is being waged against those incapable of defending themselves. It is the prophet who calls the people back to right relation with God, which in Greek is the word dikaiosune. Often this word is translated simply as justice. But it is something much deeper than that. It means righteousness, integrity, being in right relation with God, being in accord with God. This is the role of the prophet: to live among those marginalized in whatever way and to call out for their dikaiosune.

Today we hear of Jesus' rejection in his home town. The people bicker, “Well isn't that just the carpenter's kid? Wasn't he just a few years ago out in the streets chasing his brothers and sisters? What makes him so special? Does he think he's better than us?”

From this I hope to leave you with a few questions for this day and every day that follows:

First, who are the prophets that walk among us whom we least expect? Who are the prophets we may have grown up with, that we work with, or see at the grocery store? Who are the prophets—those calling us to right relation with God, to dikaiosune—that we may pass by each day as they sit sunken in their poverty, clinging to the slightest, but dwindling thread of hope?

Second, do we, as Jesus shows, not honor the potential prophets in our towns, our workplaces, our own homes? Do we snicker at those who may be called to that path, thinking they will look down on us as if being a prophet was something “better”? Or do we encourage them to follow that vocation? Do we listen to what they say, to how God may be speaking through them to our world, our towns, our homes... to us? Do we allow the Holy Spirit to call forth through our prophets those things in us, in our communities, that need to change? That allow for dikaiosune to enter into our lives?

And finally, what of you? What about each of you sitting here in this chapel? How will you be a voice for the voiceless today, tomorrow, and the rest of this year? How will you be a voice crying out in the wilderness to prepare the way for the Lord? How will you be a witness to the truth that is Christ?

Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in his native place and in his own house.”

And he did not work many mighty deeds there

because of their lack of faith.