One can assume that such a setup is more democratic. Yet, the whole exercise of talent-scouting can help us appreciate better the theme of this Sunday’s readings and Gospel. When an individual or a group walk into the centre of the stage and the camera usually pans across a gallery of faces and often it captures clearly the looks of “disbelief”. In other words, the smirks or sneers mirror a certain rejection as if some in the assembly are offended by the audacity or temerity of the contestant/s who come forward.
The rejection of the audience could suggest that the crowd does have a high standard. More likely, what the disdain illustrates is the “atomisation” that has taken place in modern society. We are that fragmented that we do not even recognise how disintegrated our social fabric has become. We would like to think that modernity has a great sense of the “community”, but “society” is merely a mirage since it is not more than individual choices cobbled together. We have become highly individualised that despite our celebrated electronic connectedness, we are still lonely. The pandemic may have disrupted this but we have been used to relocating and breaking ties with our community and the place of origin that our “identification” has been basically pragmatic and transient. Loyalty is tenuous at best because our sense of belonging is held together by a faceless and nebulous network of cyber-connexions that do not substantially satisfy our longing to be a community. For example, in Japan, the anomaly of “hikikomori” (shut-ins), meaning that youths are unable to leave their home, is an indication that social engagement is alien to this category of people.
Without the concept of a community, we have no shared world and when life is fragmented, then the need arises to “shout” our talents to the world. What makes the individual’s “projection” more effective is a sob story. For example, what appears on AGT (America’s version of BGT) can be a cancer patient’s last hurrah—to do something for herself.[1] Beyond highlighting the loneliness of an atomised existence, we are also craving for acceptance and the road to affirmation and approval usually takes us through the valley of victimhood. We have been done to and we feel that we are entitled to a better break. The world owes it to us to validate our gifts. It appears that victimhood is the choice method towards recognition and its attendant entitlement.
In a way, both BGT (or any one of its spin-offs) and the ministration of the prophets share the common angst of rejection. Indeed, what unites “then”[2] and “now” is the shared struggle of repudiation. In both cases past and present, rejection springs from the accepted convention that familiarity breeds contempt. The prophet is unable to speak because those who know him think of him in “boxed” categories. “Is He not Joseph’s son and His mother Mary?”. Performers too. The first impression counts. “Is a frump like her capable of singing like Elaine Paige?”.[3]
Unfortunately, our experience of rejection “now” is perhaps more profound. It is not a spitting contest of who suffers more—“then” or “now”. What the acuity may indicate is how atomised we have become. Thus, the difference between “then” and “now” is how the disintegration of a shared world now permeates the province of the performer and also the present-day prophet. More than loneliness, it is almost impossible to speak to a world where there is little shared assumptions.
In this era, the idea of speaking the truth and the prophet’s calling is fraught with challenges. What has developed since “then” are the phenomena of echo-chambering and cancel culture. Facebook or Twitter are fora for like-minded people, and we witness how deviation from approved narratives runs the risk of “cancellation”. But a “truth” that exists in an echo chamber is no more than a narcissistic reflexion of an atomised existence. People can no longer hear. It is not usually the case that they do not want to hear. This brings us to the next point.
It may not be the instance that we have fewer prophets. The prophet today must engage in an effort to cut through our thicket of our hearing disability. Any prophet will have the unenviable task of cultivating conditions conducive to hearing. This endeavour will take the prophet through the desert of rejection.
Rejection is part of the prophet’s resume. He or she is to be rejected. Nothing less is to be expected. While it is true that his repudiation could come from the contempt of over-familiarity, it is not personal. It is true that the audience may not like the message, but, in our atomised world, it is not the “message’s” problem. It is not even the “messenger’s” problem. Non acceptance of a prophet’s message does not come from the lack of will or desire. Or even the lack of faith. Our failure to receive comes from the lack of training. This is a generation that does not like to be challenged to excellence or nobility except perhaps we rise to the challenge of getting away with murder.[4] Since we feel that life owes it to us, how is it possible to embrace the greater good or sacrifice? Judging from the reaction in the BGTs etc, we need to be handled with kid gloves.
Secondly, our national finance is not the only deficit we face. There is also a paucity of public trust too. Our public (social or communal) relationships are that fractured to the point of disbelief. Big pharma, tech titans and deep state all contribute to this alienation of the atomised individual. If there is a common arena for all, it is the frightening space of conspiracy theories. Unsubstantiated messages that easily viral out are prime examples of this kind of brokenness.
The Christian prophet today is called to take a stand in this kind of brokenness. His or her task is to be a part of this trust rebuilding in society—repair our communal brokenness through small incremental steps that must start with himself or herself. One must be the locus for conversations founded on truth and trust. In other words, to be a prophet it must begin with me personally. Credibility is based on personal integrity and a life of transparency even if it involves rejection. If maudlin or mush is the currency for acceptance in the talent competition, for the prophet no less than truth is his or her purchase. After all is said and done, a prophet’s success is not the acceptance of the message by the audience but rather his or her faithfulness to the task. In this, we are not alone. Christ Himself told us. If they reject Me, they would reject you too. We are in good company. Like Saint Paul in the 2nd Reading, we depend on God’s grace more than on our own strength.
[1] If she does not do it, does it mean that her life is
a failure? If so, then civilisation is littered with thousands of failures.
[2] “Then” and “now”
basically refer to the periods called modernity and post-modernity.
Post-modernity is characterised in a way by a catchphrase like “post-truth”
where the shared objective standards for truth have largely disappeared.
[3] The audition of Susan Boyle in Britain’s Got Talent.
She did not look like anyone who could sing, let alone sing like Elaine Paige.
The smirk on the face of one of the audience was unmistakable.
[4] Notice how in the arena of politics, many actions are
not bad because they are objectively so. They are only “wrong”
only because the politician is caught.
