A Vision for Collective Transformation

The Tears of Things

Today reflect deeply on the world as it is—and on the world as it could be. We stand at a threshold, where the cries of the poor and the warnings of the wise are too often ignored. Yet those voices carry a truth we cannot afford to overlook. Those at the top tend to believe things are the way they are for good reason, but the poor know in their bones that things are not as they should be. [1] The marginalized see the fractures in our society with unclouded vision because they live within those broken spaces. Amos, the shepherd-prophet, was no stranger to this reality. He spoke not from comfort but from the raw experience of those left behind (Amos 7:14-15). His wisdom came not from privilege, but from proximity to suffering. If we are to hear the truth in our time, we must listen closely to those whose voices are often silenced (Amos 5:10-12).

We must also recognize that our understanding is shaped more by cultural assumptions than we often realize. Culture eats religion for lunch. [1] We may imagine ourselves guided by spiritual ideals, yet too often it is the dominant social values that shape what we believe, what we tolerate, and what we ignore (Amos 6:1-6). Even those within religious communities are not immune to this influence. We internalize cultural messages about success, power, and individualism, sometimes without questioning them. Amos confronted this tendency in his day, warning that when social norms replace spiritual wisdom, injustice flourishes (Amos 5:21-24). His message challenges us to examine how cultural conditioning distorts our moral vision and numbs us to the suffering of others.

This is why we must be vigilant when seeking truth. Truth does not appear like an apparition of low-hanging fruit in a celestial garden. It always comes wrapped in the society and historical moment that produced it. [1] Truth is never delivered to us in pristine form. It is shaped by context, and when we forget that, we risk bending truth to suit our own desires (Amos 8:11-12). Sacred texts, moral traditions, and even prophetic voices must be understood within the conditions that gave birth to them. This does not diminish their wisdom; rather, it invites us to engage with them more deeply, with an awareness that truth requires interpretation (Amos 3:7). When we lose sight of this, we risk manipulating truth to reinforce our own biases instead of allowing it to challenge and transform us.

And transformation demands courage. A true prophet names evil wherever it is festering. [1] Amos knew this well. He stood before the powerful and called out corruption, exploitation, and complacency (Amos 4:1; Amos 5:11-12). His words were not polite; they were fierce, unsettling, and impossible to ignore. This is the burden of the prophetic voice—it must expose what others would rather leave hidden (Amos 5:7-10). Amos reminds us that justice requires more than silence or passive hope; it demands an unwavering commitment to truth, even when it disturbs the peace of those in power (Amos 7:16-17).

Yet Amos also reveals something equally important: righteous anger must be tempered by compassion. In the midst of his sharp critiques, Amos’s voice softens, and his words reveal a sorrowful longing: Yet you never came back to me. [1] Again and again, this plea breaks through his warnings. Beneath his frustration lies a deep yearning for restoration—a call not merely to condemn, but to awaken hearts to their estrangement from the Divine. His anger was real, but it was never the final word. His message, in the end, was a plea for healing—a hope that people might yet return to their better selves (Amos 9:11-15).

Finally, Amos’s witness reminds us that we must cultivate self-awareness. Every viewpoint is a view from a point, and we had best know our own. [1] Each of us carries assumptions about the world—shaped by our upbringing, experiences, and social position. If we are unaware of those influences, we risk mistaking our limited perspective for absolute truth. Amos calls us to honesty about our own blind spots (Amos 3:2). When we recognize the partiality of our understanding, we become more open to the wisdom of others. This humility is essential if we are to see the world more clearly and respond with compassion rather than judgment.

So let us pause. Let us consider the voices we have ignored, the truths we have distorted, and the biases we have left unexamined. There is still time to listen. There is still time to return (Amos 5:4, 14-15).

[1] Richard Rohr, The Tears of Things