The Reluctant Prophet

The Tears of Things

It’s not easy to be a prophet. In fact, the very idea of being a prophet, of responding to a call that pulls you into a deeper responsibility than you ever imagined, can be a deeply reluctant one. Look at Jeremiah. He is one of the most poignant examples of the inner turmoil that comes with such a calling. He didn’t jump at the opportunity. He didn’t run forward with zeal to declare a new word from the Divine. No, he hesitated, struggled, and wrestled with the overwhelming weight of what was being asked of him. Jeremiah’s story teaches us that responding to a deep inner call, especially one that challenges the societal norms and comfort zones around us, is not just difficult—it is necessary. "Prophets need to live on the edge of the inside if they are to speak from a proper perspective—definitely not in the comfortable center, but also not outside throwing stones without empathy for the full situation." [1] This tension, this place between the comfort of the center and the isolation of the periphery, is where the prophet must stand. It’s the place where truth can be spoken, but it requires being deeply embedded in both the world and the critique of it. (Jeremiah 1:6-10)

Jeremiah’s reluctance, though, is not just about the difficulty of prophecy—it’s also about the honesty with which he engages his spiritual life. He doesn’t sugarcoat his feelings. He is raw, honest, and unflinching in his communication with God. This is not the lofty, idealized version of spiritual experience we often hear about. No, Jeremiah’s honesty invites us into a deeper, more vulnerable relationship with the Divine. It’s okay to feel frustrated, to doubt, to even be angry with God. His journey is one of a profound wrestling with the very nature of his calling. "God must have been extremely real for Jeremiah to write in this way... only Jacob’s wrestling with the angel and the testimonies of medieval Catholic mystics like Teresa of Ávila match the intensity of Jeremiah’s struggle with the divine." [1] In the midst of his struggle, there’s something deeply sacred about this vulnerability. Jeremiah shows us that spiritual integrity lies not in perfect devotion but in a willingness to lay our raw emotions at the feet of the Divine. To not hold back, even in the midst of doubt and difficulty. (Jeremiah 20:7-18)

And yet, what is the role of the prophet? What do they really stand for? It’s here that we see the role of sacred critique come into play. Both Jeremiah and Jesus challenge us in their critiques of the religious institutions around them. They call attention to the ways in which religious rituals can become hollow and performative, prioritizing tradition over compassion, and ceremony over justice. The prophetic call is not a rejection of the sacred but a critique that calls us back to what is most important—the heart of the matter, the deeper truth beneath the surface. "Prophets never throw out the sacred... they transpose the sacred from place to person and create a universal availability and access to God—from rote ritual to sincere prayer, from rocks to a living presence." [1] This is the work of the prophet—to shift the sacred from something external and ritualistic into something personal, alive, and immediate. The prophet doesn’t destroy the sacred; they reintegrate it into the world in a way that challenges us to live more authentically and compassionately. (Jeremiah 7:1-15; Matthew 21:12-13)

But this transformation doesn’t happen through external rituals alone. In fact, the true essence of spiritual life transcends rituals. Jeremiah knew this, and so did Jesus. What both of them pointed to was a spirituality that was rooted in authenticity, not in the performative acts of religion. Spiritual integrity isn’t about ritualistic observance but about the cultivation of a genuine connection to the divine—something that transcends what can be seen and touched. "True worship’s function is to radically decenter our naturally imperial ego, but too often it devolves into some notion of needed sacrifice, as it did for the ancient Israelites." [1] This insight is crucial. Worship should be an act of humility, an act that decimates the ego’s desire for control and power. Yet when religion becomes a system of ritualistic behavior, it can turn into something that feeds the ego rather than transforming it. Spiritual integrity isn’t about following prescribed steps; it’s about developing a relationship that reflects justice, compassion, and humility—values that go far beyond any external form of worship. (Isaiah 1:11-17; Matthew 6:5-6)

The accessibility of God, too, plays a key role in Jeremiah’s prophetic message, and it’s something that we often miss when we’re caught up in the trappings of traditional religion. The Divine is not confined to a building, to a ritual, or even to a specific tradition. "Jesus builds directly on this by 'speaking of the sanctuary as his body': a place not for the buying and selling of God, but a 'place of prayer for all the people.'" [1] This is where the shift happens—where the Divine is not limited to sacred spaces or restricted practices. God is available to all people, in all places. There’s a fundamental inclusivity to the divine presence that we often forget. The sacred is not contained in buildings or ceremonies; it’s found in each person, in each moment. As Jeremiah’s prophetic critique invites us to reconsider, we are reminded that the sacred is not about where we are, but who we are and how we engage with one another in compassion and love. (Jeremiah 7:4-11; John 2:19-22)

But even as we seek to access the Divine in all things, there is a danger of becoming enamored with the symbols, the metaphors, and the rituals of religion, rather than with the deeper meaning they point to. It’s easy to mistake the religious symbols for the divine reality itself. The prophets, however, are clear: "Am I in love with the metaphors for their own sake? Or am I in love with the thing itself?" [1] This is the ultimate question. It’s a question that challenges us to look beyond the surface and ask whether we are seeking the Divine in all things, or merely the comfort of ritual and symbolism. The metaphors, the rituals, the practices—they are not the end. They are the means to an end, pointing us back to the deeper, living reality of the Divine. Our devotion must be grounded in this reality, not in the symbols that are meant to reflect it. (Jeremiah 2:5-13; Matthew 23:25-26)

Ultimately, the call to prophetic responsibility, to honest spiritual experience, and to sacred critique is not about rituals, symbols, or even traditions. It is about a commitment to the reality of spiritual life. True faith is a commitment to reality—“Authentic Christianity must be an utter commitment to reality, as opposed to ritual, or it is not a commitment to God.” [1] This is the core of spiritual practice. It’s about engaging with the world as it truly is, not as we wish it to be, and living in alignment with the divine presence that is constantly available to us. This is what the prophets call us to—a spirituality that transcends the external and touches the very heart of who we are, who we are meant to be, and who we are becoming in our journey with the Divine. (Jeremiah 1:17-19; John 4:24)

The reluctant prophet isn’t reluctant because they don’t understand the significance of their call—they’re reluctant because the depth of the responsibility is so profound. Yet in their hesitation, they remind us that the path of the prophet, and the path of spiritual growth, is not one of ease or comfort, but of authenticity, challenge, and commitment to the deeper realities of life and the Divine. (Jeremiah 1:6-8)

[1] Richard Rohr, The Tears of Things