My first ever college theology course was Introduction to the Old Testament. We used the widely known book, Reading the Old Testament, by Lawrence Boadt. It is a decent book for getting an overview of the various aspects of biblical scholarship, a sense of the time-line of Old Testament events and peoples, and even quite a bit of information on the cultures in the Ancient Middle East. I learned a lot in that class. I wrote my first biblical exegesis paper for that class. (Exegesis means "to read out of" a text instead of "reading into" a text.)
My paper was on Jeremiah 20:7-12. I love Jeremiah, because he is so human, so passionate, so real. He is honest about both his suffering and his love for the Lord. He doesn't mince words. The passage starts, "You duped me, O LORD, and I let myself be duped!" If that doesn't grab your attention, what will?! Basically, Jeremiah goes on to complain about how God called him to proclaim a message to the government and citizens alike and no one listens. He didn't want to be a prophet; he didn't ask for it. He blames God for calling him to be a prophet that no one listens to. He basically says: What's the point! Proclaiming the Word of God isn't leading to ANYONE following the message. All it does is cause me personal suffering. I am being ridiculed constantly, imprisoned, humiliated; even my own friends have turned on me. I'm fed up! So, I say to myself NO MORE! I'm done with this. Enough is enough! I'm finished. I'm not doing this anymore!
But he can't stop. As much as he wants to, he can't. And not just due to external coercion. Right as he tells himself "I will speak in His Name no more!" something happens from within: "But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones; I grow weary holding it in. I cannot endure it." The ridicule and the denouncement against Jeremiah continues, but this internal strength presses on, and he ends with a word of confidence in God, who is with him "like a Mighty Champion" and entrusts his cause to the Lord.
That passage has stuck with me throughout my life. And I think many Catholics and Christians often feel the way Jeremiah did. The more we speak out, the more ridicule we seem to get. We are insulted, accused of being trouble-makers, of being judgmental and lacking compassion, and all sorts of things that are not true. We are even accused of arrogance for proclaiming the Gospel. And it can be wearisome, especially when our own family and friends reject us and make fun of us for being so foolish or silly in our moral beliefs. Like Jeremiah, we might get to a point of saying, "I can't do this! I've had enough!" But usually it is more subtle, quieter: "It's really not my place to say anything. Who am I to judge? They won't listen anyway. It wouldn't be polite. How can I convince them? What business is it of mine? Maybe I shouldn't, because they'll just be turned off even more, and how can I help them if they unfriend me? I'd better just remain a quiet example and keep my mouth shut."
I've had that conversation in my own mind many times. And I've often caved. In reality, we are never satisfied doing that, though. We may forget about it for a while, but it still nags at us, even if only every now and again.
That's what I love about that passage from Jeremiah: it is so real. I've had both feelings. Along with the pangs of being rejected for proclaiming the truth or the cowardice of political correctness, I have felt the same passion burning within me, growing weary holding it in, not being able to endure or contain it but needing to let it out: the word of truth that is also the word of supreme love!
Here's the situation: I have come to know and love God and His truth, including many moral truths that are roundly rejected or ignored today. I wish everyone could experience the grace, the peace, and the joy of a holy life. (Trust me, I'm not saying I'm perfectly holy; but all of you who have overcome sin and received virtue know what I'm talking about. It is so much better to be holy than sinful.)
I see so many people following falsehoods and harming their own bodies, minds, and souls with so much filth it is unfathomably disturbing! Sometimes they don't even realize what they are doing! I fear for them. I worry about them. It is painful to watch. But, I am afraid that if I say something, they won't listen, and they may just end up even more hard-hearted against God and me, so it won't do any good. But, what if I say nothing? What are the chances that they'll ever come to see the error they are in if I don't say something? Is it loving to withhold that from them for my own sense of security? Isn't it actually selfishness not to warn them? Is not true love being willing to be hurt by those you love, as Christ was crucified by those He came to save?
If I say something, they may not listen, and they might remain spiritually dead anyway. But if I say nothing, I am almost guaranteeing that they will not have at least a chance of repenting and coming to know the joy of forgiveness and the internal happiness of virtue and beatitude. And simply for the chance that it leads to a conversion, no matter how slim, even if it is only one in a million, it is worth it, because I love them. If they hate me for it: so be it. I'll love them anyway. At least I will have loved them in the truth and with true love: doing and saying what is actually best for them as lovingly but clearly as I possibly can. It isn't about what people want; it is about what is truly best for them. And sometimes, that is the last thing they actually want, and they lash out when you try to help. But what choice do we have? We've been given a truth that we did not create, that we are not the author of, so there is no pride to be had in passing it on. We are obliged to pass it on. It is a gift meant to be shared. Like Jeremiah, we are simply messengers delivering the truth we've received. And it would be a shame to hoard it for ourselves and refuse to share for fear of backlash. After all, didn't Jesus receive the worst backlashes of all precisely so that we could be saved? (Watch the scourging scene in "The Passion of the Christ" which is the most difficult, horrific, yet powerful scene I have ever witnessed and you'll know what I'm talking about). Didn't Jesus tell us that we should not hide the lighted-lamp under a bushel basket?
So, I encourage you! Don't grow weary. Be on fire! The world may hate us, but that is all the more reason they need us! Proclaim the truth, charitably but clearly. Realize that spiritual warfare is unlike any other war: it is the only war waged for the sake of our human enemies, not against them. Despite the ridicule we risk, there is hope. Some people do listen, and it is usually because someone was their personal Jeremiah, proclaiming a truth they didn't want to hear, but needed to hear. And that is love: love for God and love for others. Isn't that what it is all about?
If you find this blog insightful or helpful, please consider support me via the link below: