I often hear our roosters crowing while I’m getting ready for work. Mind you, this is around 4 a.m. Popular culture commonly portrays roosters crowing at sunrise, however, in my experience, their boisterous morning song begins long before daylight. I’ve at times wondered if they detect some nearly unperceivable changes in the air or light as dawn approaches or if they rely on some form of intuition. Curiously poultry experts suggest it is closer to my second guess. Like many birds, their circadian rhythms help them anticipate sunrise. Their cry announces the arrival of a new day. It is time to wake up! Arise and shine!
One way to think of the prophetic voice in scripture is a wake-up call, bearing a message of hope and promise. However, hope is not the whole story. Like the interplay of light and shadow in visual arts, it is the darkness of earlier warnings and expressions of sadness that give depth to hope.
Wendell Berry made another observation concerning prophetic inspiration in his classic The Unsettling of America: Culture & Agriculture2:
It was the desert, not the temple, that gave us the prophets…The pattern of orthodoxy in religion, because it is well known, gives us a useful paradigm. The encrusted religious structure is not changed by its institutional dependents—they are part of the crust. It is changed by one who goes alone to the wilderness, where he fasts and prays, and returns with a cleansed vision. In going alone, he goes independent of institutions, forswearing orthodoxy (“right opinion”). In going to the wilderness he goes to the margin, where he is surrounded by the possibilities—by no means all good—that orthodoxy has excluded. By fasting he disengages his thoughts from the immediate issues of livelihood; his willing hunger takes his mind off the payroll, so to speak. And by praying he acknowledges ignorance; the orthodox presume to know, whereas the marginal person is trying to find out. He returns to the community, not necessarily with new truth, but with a new vision of the truth; he sees it more whole than before.
Berry’s comparison was part of his larger argument against the “get big or get out” philosophy of industrial agribusiness, built on toxic chemicals, fossil fuels, and plowing fields fence row to fence row. He was advocating for more diverse, smaller-scale agriculture–allowing for wild space in the less productive margins. These wild or “deserted” places offer reminders of nature’s diversity and interdependence, but also its ability to adapt.
Berry’s generalization fits well with our outsider image of John the Baptist but requires some qualification. Many of the biblical prophets were institutional insiders, as priests and royal advisors. Isaiah, the most quoted Hebrew prophet in the New Testament is a good example of the classic insider with his connections to the Temple priesthood. On the other hand, Elijah–in many ways the prototype for John– is the classic outsider. However, the truth Berry points to is that reformers, agents of change–prophets if you will—begin their mission by thinking differently. Whether they physically removed themselves to the wilderness, retreated into a season of prayer and fasting at home, or witnessed their civilization reduced to rubble, these experiences gave them insights outside of the mainstream and beyond business as usual.
I’m using John the Baptist as a jumping-off point for a discussion of the Hebrew prophetic tradition. Most Christian communities are currently observing the season of Advent. The period begins four Sundays prior to Christmas and ends on Christmas Eve. It is a season of anticipation and preparation. In the Common Lectionary, used in many churches across the theological spectrum, the Old Testament Readings for the season come from one of the prophets, most frequently Isaiah. Among the Gospel readings, John the Baptist always appears in the readings for the second and third Sundays of Advent. Indeed the passage I read earlier this morning combines the Gospel readings from both weeks. New Testament authors, especially Matthew, frequently applied quotes from the written Hebrew prophets to the life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth. Also, John the Baptist is commonly thought of as a transitional figure; both echoing the fiery rhetoric of many of the Old Testament prophets and preparing the community for the imminent arrival of the anointed one, the messiah, the Χριστός. So the combinations of these readings during this time of year have their place.
In the Hebrew tradition, there are two words used for prophet. The earlier term is roeh translated as seer. Curiously the word only appears in one passage, I Samuel 9:9, where Saul is seeking out a seer to tell him where to find his missing donkeys. When he finds Samuel, the prophet dismisses Saul’s concern for the animals and ends up anointing Saul as king. The author explains that seer was an older name for prophet. Some commentators believe the passage indicates a shift in the role from seers for hire to moral teachers. It is thought that seer/priests formed guilds of diviners attached to early shrines like Shechem and Shiloh or even the first Temple in Jerusalem. Indeed some of the later prophets were critical of the practice of divination
The later and more common word is nevi meaning spokesperson. There is a sense of YHWH putting words in their mouths to be relayed to the community as found in Deuteronomy 18:18: “…I will put my words in his mouth and he shall speak unto them all that I shall command him.” Several years ago, when a co-teacher and I were covering prophetic literature in a Bible survey course with teenage youth in a neighboring Unitarian Universalist congregation, we asked at the beginning of the lesson, “What is a prophet?” I was impressed that one of the first definitions the class shared was that prophets were people with a direct connection to the spirit world or God. The kids rightly understood prophets to have a special sensitivity and openness to the transcendent. Sometimes these messages were delivered orally to individuals or groups. Other times prophets would use symbolic actions or parabolic stories to get the point across. Think of Isaiah walking naked through the streets of Jerusalem or Jeremiah smashing a clay pot before an audience, or even Hosea comparing his troubled marriage to the relationship between YHWH and Israel.
The Talmud lists fifty-five prophets from the Hebrew Bible or Old Testament: forty-eight male and seven female. While we might automatically think of the prophets who had books named after them, these lists include many other figures from earlier biblical narratives. I’m not going to name them all, but here are some examples: the patriarch Abraham and matriarch Sarah; the lawgiver Moses and his sister Miriam; Deborah who served as one of the judges of Israel; Hannah and her son Samuel; Nathan who advised King David and David himself; and not the least, the 9th Century B.C.E. prophets Elijah and Elisha.
As we think about the writing prophets, it may be helpful to note the significant differences in how they appear in the cannons of Christian and Hebrew scripture. Many of us are familiar with the organization of the Christian Old Testament: the books of the law (Genesis-Deuteronomy), the books of history (Joshua-Esther), the books of wisdom (Job-the Song of Solomon), and finally the Prophets (Isaiah-Malachi). On the other hand, The Hebrew Bible (TaNaK) is organized into three main divisions: The Law (Torah), The Prophets (Neviim), and The Writings (Ketuvim). The prophetic books are further divided between Former Prophets and Latter Prophets. The Former Prophets are Joshua, Judges, I & II Samuel, and I & II Kings, which in the Christian tradition are part of the books of history. The Latter Prophets are Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the Twelve [Minor Prophets]. Due to late authorship, Jewish tradition does not include Daniel among the prophets but relegates it to the catch-all division of the Writings. By the time of Jesus’ birth, both the lists of books in the Law and the Prophets were firmly established. However, the list for the Writings was not finalized until the end of the 1st Century of the Common Era.
The role of the prophet as a social critic seems to develop as wealth and power became concentrated into fewer hands. Between Joshua’s invasion of Canaan and the later rise of the monarchy, Israel operated as a loose confederation of tribes. Archeological evidence suggests that the conquest of Canaan was most likely accomplished by an alliance of Hebrew newcomers (escaped slaves from Egypt) and indigenous Canaanite peasants seeking to overthrow their urban overlords in places like Jericho. Relationships between the tribes appear to have been built on treaties or covenants of mutual aid, external defense, and a common religious ideology. Economically, extended families or clans held title to land perpetually. Tribal members were obligated to help fellow Israelites in time of need and forbidden to charge interest on emergency loans. Strict limits were placed on contract servitude. And special provisions were in place to care for widows, orphans, and foreigners. Allegiance to YHWH was the determining factor in whether Israel experienced peace and prosperity or threats from neighboring peoples. The tribes operated under the leadership of judges who mostly served in roles of civil authority. Yet, in times of danger, other judges would arise as charismatic military leaders, summoning the tribes to unite their efforts.
Eventually, the threat of the coastal people called Philistines led the elders of Israel to call upon the aged Samuel to anoint a king. Now Samuel, who served as a priest and judge, and is counted as a prophet, was reluctant to fulfill the request. YHWH convinces Samuel to acquiesce to the demand suggesting that the elders are rejecting YHWH’s leadership, not Samuel’s. Samuel responses to the elders with a warning that a monarchy will lead not only to a more centralized military command structure but will also lead to a concentration of wealth. It is no accident that Samuel serves as a transitional figure in the shift from tribal organization to monarchy, but also in the changing role of the prophet from seer to spokesperson. His reluctance and well-placed critique of centralized power, even before the institution was in place, set a tone for the future relationship between prophets and kings.
We often think of biblical prophecy primarily as prediction. That perspective is especially prominent in the way the Gospel writers apply quotes to the life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth. Indeed for that reason for nearly 1700 years the primary way Christians understood the Prophets was as forecasters of Christ. It is that perspective that inspired George Fredrick Handel’s Messiah. Though there is some truth to that approach, we must be careful not to ignore the original contexts of these passages. For the most part, the prophets were addressing the circumstances of their times. It may be Nathan scolding King David for his affair with Bathsheba, or Elijah confronting King Ahab for taking both Naboth’s vineyard and his life, or Jeremiah denouncing Judah’s nobility for re-enslaving freed slaves. Other passages vent angry curses against Israel and Judah’s enemies. Still, later passages express the deep sorrow for the destruction of their society and the scattering of their people. It is only then that hope can enter the picture. Scripture often speaks in rhythms of past promise and fulfillment as an encouragement to faith in the present and future. While hope is part of the story, it requires facing unpleasant truths about ourselves and our society to get there. Prophesy in this light is less about foretelling and more about forth-telling or truth-telling.
There is a quote from biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann that at once sums up the message of the Hebrew prophets and serves as a mission statement for us today: “The prophetic tasks of the church are to tell the truth in a society that lives in illusion, grieve in a society that practices denial, and express hope in a society that lives in despair.”
The wake-up call comes as a warning if we remain on this path, danger lies ahead. The prophetic voice speaks from a position between the world as it is and as it should and can be. It offers a clear-eyed view of the past and present from a spiritual perspective. Those insights are often at odds with the official proclamations of powerful institutions in our society—public, private, or even faith-based. However, the message is not only addressed to people in positions of concentrated political and economic power. In our context of a pluralist democratic society, their words are addressed to any and all who have agency to make choices in our collective and individual lives. Yes, hope remains even in the midst of the direst consequences of our worst choices. However, hope does not instantly heal our wounds. We will live with the scars. Prophetic hope simply points us in a new direction.
Advent is a time for heightened anticipation. It is a time to remain alert to the realities of this less-than-perfect world and awaken to new possibilities. John the Baptist issues a wake-up call. It’s not enough to be “woke”. We actually have to get out of bed and get to work—“Prepare the way of the Lord”. Part of John’s preparatory work was to question the motives of those who presented themselves for baptism. While Matthew’s account (3:1-12) quotes John’s basic message, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand”, Luke 3:1-20 gives three concrete examples of what repentance—that is “changing direction”—looks like. His instruction in each case was to live compassionately, honestly, and justly with each other. John was well aware that his ministry was merely a prelude to something greater. While John’s baptism was intended to purify those who came to him, Jesus would empower them—set them on fire—kindle God’s love in their hearts. As we ponder the meaning of Emmanuel (“God with us”) in this season, let us consider how each of us can in turn incarnate love in this world. That would truly be the beginning of a new day.
- All scripture references are to the Revised Standard Version.
- Wendell Berry, The Unsettling of America: Culture and Agriculture, (San Francisco, CA: Sierra Club Books, 1977) p. 174.
Additional Rescources:
- Christopher D. Bowman, “Prophetic Rhetoric and Preaching”, The Witness of the Hebrew Bible for a New Testament Church, ed. Christina Bucher, David A. Leiter and Frank Ramirez (Elgin, IL: Brethren Press, 2010).
- Fredrick Carl Eisenlen, Prophecy and the Prophets in their Historical Relations, (New York, NY & Cincinnati, OH: The Methodist Book Concern, 1909)
- Norman K. Gottwald, The Hebrew Bible: A Socio-Literary Introduction, (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1985)
Tom Wagner is a former pastor in the Church of the Brethren. He earned his B.A. in peace studies at Manchester University and studied at Bethany Theological Seminary. He was born in Lebanon County Pennsylvania and spent his teenage years in DeKalb County, Indiana. For over 30 years he has lived and worked in Muskegon County, Michigan. For over 25 years he has served on the Muskegon County Cooperating Churches board of directors. He is author of two essay collections: A Pilgrim’s Provender (2005) and Work and Hope (2011), both were published by MCCC.