Amos was prophet from the southern Kingdom of Judah, called to preach in the northern Kingdom of Israel. At Bethel, Amos spoke against an established tolerance of exploitation—of the wealthy taking advantage of the poor. He is met with rejection from Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, who suspected Amos to be a “professional” prophet, a type renowned for its delirious conduct. Amos countered that he was merely a shepherd responding to God’s command.
Amaziah may have miscued or misjudged Amos to be an eccentric character. Oddity is not unfamiliar to us. In fact, for us, the concept of identity is very much wrapped with one’s “personality”. To a certain extent, the word suggests quirkiness—the very trait Amaziah was opposed to. Peculiarity jumps out at us because we seem to have equated eccentricity as uniqueness. The Baptist’s hair-shirt-cladding, desert-wandering and locust-eating descriptions are good examples. Our fascination may have its origin in a mindset which is rather individualistic.
When our sense of identity is egocentric, the culture will generally be personality centred. It took 2 million years for the world’s population to pass the 1 billion mark and only 200 years to explode to more than 7 billion. The point is, the Baptist, in a small and known Mediterranean world would have surely stood out. Here we are, hyper-connected, and to differentiate one from the other 7 billion inhabitants, it will definitely require a lot more distinction. We appear to have a greater need to be different.
In fact, the description “rugged” individual reeks of personality. One must be markedly unique in order to be counted or to be seen. This drive to be different frequently veers into the arena of the personality cult. The temptation is always there. An example might be helpful. In the case of a priest, just an ordinary priest, some parishioners are mesmerised that “Fr Cy can cook” or “Fr Paul can sing like Pavarotti”. When Family Day arrives, there comes the usual push to “showcase” Fr so and so’s cooking or singing skills.
What does this indicate?
While it is admirable to celebrate talents, somehow, we do not realise that a captivation with “extra-priestly prowess” may conceal an obsession with “personality”. The underlying message is that performing one’s mundane priestly duties is not good enough. One has to be a different kind of priest.[1]
Here, it might be good to clarify that it does not mean that a priest and whatever may be his “personality” are mutually exclusive and that a priest, or for the matter of speaking, a prophet should be a man of no “personality”. Many of our saints have strong charismas and are even outlandishly quirky. One can only wonder whether it was “personality” excess or religious fervour that drove St Simeon the Stylite to take up abode on top of a 60-foot column for 30 odd years.
The point is, one’s personality—“normal” or “extraordinary” should not get in the way of the service of the Lord. Perhaps the “prophetic” vocation must find its designation from the “triplex munus”, which describes the threefold mediatorial office of Jesus Christ. He is at once our Priest, our Prophet and our King. These roles that describe the person of Jesus, in an analogous way, is also the definition of every baptised faithful. Through the Sacrament of Baptism, one is enrolled into the priestly, prophetic and kingly office of Jesus Christ. Thus, the baptised is a priest who offers sacrifice to God. As a Christian, he or she is to make a sacrifice of his or her life to the Lord. The king leads by being a servant to all but is master of all the unruliness that accompanies life in a fallen world. Finally, the prophet is simply the mouthpiece of God. He draws no attention to himself except to reflect what God has intended for the world. In the “triplex munus”, one can see how the prophetic charism has less to do with oddity than with getting on in the affairs of the Lord.
In other words, the “triplex munus” expresses the central truth that God is at the centre and not the person of the prophet and much less his personality. The uniqueness of the prophet comes not from his exception or his distinction but from his calling. He is “special” because he has been set-apart by God Himself and for Himself. The prophet’s business is to point back to God. This was where Amaziah differed from Amos. Amaziah was constrained and compromised because he served the powers that be forgetting that the worship he offered was to God and not to man.
The question is, are we more Amos or Amaziah?
The question is important in light of a pandemic that panders to the paranoid even as it promotes paranoia. Look at some of photos of ordinary people donning protective gears that are well beyond what is necessary. This phenomenon expresses an inclination towards weird behaviour partly because our personality-driven mentality fosters “abnormality” disguised as the expression of individual freedom. The Christian prophets today must eschew the temptation to be uniquely different even though just by speaking about God, they will be considered “exceptional”. It is easier said than done because a prophet, by definition is counter-cultural. He stands against the flow by pointing towards God.
In this enterprise, we have not lost our imagination. Rather we suffer from the lack of it. We conceive of a future dark and dank because we may have lost the ability to divine heaven. Pleasures on earth are no longer a foretaste of the eternal. Instead, they are sought for themselves and in them, most ironically, we instinctively embrace a future that is condemned. Almost by instinct, we know the hedonism that we espouse will us lead to destruction. No wonder all our movies are that dystopian.
Therefore, the more the prophet must stand for God and a future of hope. More so in a present gripped by an anachronistically “Woke” frenzy ever ready to cancel any message which does not fit the accepted nihilistic narrative. Indeed, the prophet’s contrast or difference is definitely lonelier. The business of God is never an easy task.[2]
Furthermore, in a sensory-saturated prison, we are driven to be the first to be out there. If you are not seen, you are nobody. To a certain extent, we are driven mad by the tyranny of relevance. Hence the prophet is truly “A voice that cries in the wilderness”. He is not only to hemmed in by the desert of rejection but also condemned to the silence of a solitary existence. As a friend who calls me to mourn: “No one cares. No one loves”. Perhaps that friend of mine has failed to grasp that rejection is not a failure. It is quintessentially the success of one’s prophetic calling.
In the Gospel, what is brought to fore when faced with adversity is something which we are not at home with. It is the centrality of God’s providence. Amos was able to differentiate between the skills that he has, what he does with them and the vocation he has been called to—He was a shepherd with the vocation of a prophet. Written into one’s vocation are charisms which are to be used for one’s ministry as God’s mouthpiece. Failure to recognise this, we will land on the side of Amaziah who could not see that the gifts he had as a priest were not given for his personal gain. The question for anyone who leans towards Amaziah is “Quid in luce aeternitatis?”. “What is it (whatever is the gain) in the light of eternity?” The prophet must speak for this future where God is fully present. We definitely fall in this spectrum between Amos and Amaziah. Unlike Amaziah who was constrained and compromised by his gains in this world, Amos freed from the present was able to speak of God’s future. In the Gospel, Jesus was clear. Be light in your peregrination. Why? Because God will take care of you as He always does. Depend on Him. The prophet, like Amos, dares to stand firm because he has God as the foundation of his vocation.
[1] In the 70’s and early 80’s, sacramental duties were
derisively considered to be too “cultic” and that the priestly
vocation must be more than celebrating Masses. There arose the movement of “hyphenated”
priests. Priest-farmer, priest-shipyard worker and etc. I was taught as a
novice that the vocation of the priest is to be a leader and that we should
move away from this narrow cultic definition of the priesthood.
[2] As remarked, the higher
one goes, the stronger the wind. If one can enjoy the perks and privileges of
the position, then one should also weather the storms and the tempests that
come with it.
