The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost - June 28, 2026

St. Pauls - Proper 8 - June 28, 2026

"Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward."

When I was a kid my grandfather often said to me, Mike, I can read your tracks before you make them.

Sometimes he could see things about my life I couldn’t see for myself. Other times he told me what I already knew but it made more sense when I heard it from him. Sometimes we had difficult but meaningful conversations and other times he told me truths I did not want to hear. Sometimes he caused me to reconsider and be more thoughtful about what I was doing. Other times I tried to cover my tracks. I became more stubborn or sneaky.

I didn’t always welcome him reading my tracks. Back then that often felt like interference, a warning, or even a threat. Today it feels like love, care, concern

I have others in my life today who can read my tracks before I make them – my wife Susan, Dean, Henry, Morgan, and some of you. I suspect you’ve had and maybe still have track readers in your life too. 

Who has read your tracks? In what ways did she or he give you insight to yourself or open your eyes to what was happening? What truths were revealed? What conversations were begun? How did it change you or the direction of your life? What was asked of you?

Whoever that was, she or he was a prophet. Have you ever thought of that person as a prophet? That’s not how I thought about Papa Art back then. And he probably didn’t think of himself as a prophet. But sometimes we are. We read the tracks of our children or grandchildren, friends, or colleagues even before they’ve been made and offer truths, hope, wisdom.

When we think of a prophet most of us probably think of one of the Old Testament prophets; Jeremiah, Isaiah, Amos. Some might think of Dorothy Day, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Archbishop Oscar Romero, or Archbishop Desmond Tutu as modern prophets.

But I’ve also begun to see those track reading people in my life as prophets. Papa Art didn’t foresee my future, but he could see the consequences of my choices, actions, and the direction I was going, and he wanted something more for me, something different. He spoke with insight, not foresight. That’s what prophets do. They reflect deeply on what is happening in the present moment and call us back to our betters selves, our truer selves. Sometimes they speak to individuals and sometimes they speak to entire nations, to a people. That’s the biblical tradition of prophecy and it is, I think, what is happening in our country today. 

A prophet isn’t one who predicts the future. A prophet is one who calls for and insists on change. It’s one who disturbs the complacency of the present moment, interrupts business as usual, and provokes change. The prophet is a person who is not tolerant of wrongs done to others, who resents other people’s injuries. (Heschel, The Prophets, volume 1, 205) The prophet interferes on behalf of the weak, the poor, the oppressed. (Ibid.) The prophet draws a line in the sand.

For the prophet, the goal isn’t popularity: In our Old Testament reading this week, two prophets deliver messages to God’s people.  The year is 594 B.C.E.  The Babylonians have conquered Jerusalem, captured many of its leaders, and carried them into exile.  The small band of people who remain in the wrecked city long for the Babylonian oppression to end, and their city to be restored to freedom and glory.  They long to hear a word of deliverance from God.

Along comes the prophet Hananiah.  Standing before the priests and the people who have gathered at the temple, he announces that God has broken the power of the Babylonians.  The time of exile is over, he says.  Everything the people have lost is about to be restored, God has promised his people a quick and easy deliverance, and the time has come for celebration.

Needless to say, this is exactly the message the people wish to hear.  The hard times are over!  There's no more struggle to be had!  God is going to fix everything!  Hananiah's is a message of comfort, reassurance, and triumph.  A message of nationalist hope, divine favor, and easy victory.  A message to stir the heart and placate the conscience.  

The only problem is, it’s not a message from God.  The message from God comes through Jeremiah, the weeping prophet, who shows up at the temple wearing a yoke around his shoulders.  A literal yoke, symbolizing the bondage inflicted by the Babylonians.  Jeremiah condemns Hananiah’s prophecy as false and dangerous.  You’re offering cheap comfort and false hope to God’s people, Jeremiah tells the rival prophet.  True peace is not nearly so easy, and God's favor is not something human beings should take for granted.  

Jeremiah then reminds Hananiah that Israel’s true prophets — even those from ancient times —  have prophesied war, famine, and pestilence.  In other words, they have dared to tell God’s people hard and holy truths.  Hard truths about God’s anger, disappointment, and grief.  Hard truths about the need for repentance and return.  Hard truths about the high cost of justice.  Hard truths about patience, long-suffering, and sacrifice.  

The Babylonian exile will not end quickly, Jeremiah says.  God’s people will have to wait and pray and surrender and repent.  No, Jeremiah can't offer them a pleasant or popular message.  He can only offer them the truth.   

Of course, welcome takes on a whole different meaning when we think about it in light of this Old Testament story.  It's easy for the Israelites to welcome 

smooth-talking Hananiah.  It's altogether harder to welcome weird, weepy Jeremiah with the bizarre yoke around his neck.  Imagine the risk Jeremiah has to take, speaking truths no one wants to hear.  What if no one offers him a cup of cold water when he's done prophesying?  What if every door in town slams shut at his approach?  

What’s the takeaway for us?  I believe it’s a call to radical, risky honesty, a call to take our vocation as truth-tellers very seriously.  As God’s messengers in the world, we are not at liberty to soften the Gospel for the sake of our own likeability.  Jesus has not commissioned us to say whatever is trendy or comfortable or easy or popular.  He has commissioned us to say what is true.  False hope is not God’s hope.  Easy peace is not God’s peace.  And convenient justice is not God’s justice.

Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward.  The implication, of course, is that not everyone will welcome authentic prophets.  Not everyone will open the door, receive Christ's message, and offer us the glass of water we hope for.  But that doesn’t excuse our inaction.  The message is still, Go.  The message is still, Speak.  The message is still, Carry God’s image out into the world, and do so with reverence, gentleness, humility, truthfulness, and love.  Yes, there is great risk involved.  Of course there is.  And yet, there is also reward.

The great prophets of Israel resisted complacency as the enemy of true peace. Day, King, Romero, and Tutu resisted complacency. I sometimes wonder if we have confused the two and settled for complacency over peace. Jeremiah puts it like this, They have treated the wound of my people carelessly, saying, “‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace. (Jeremiah 6:14)

I wonder if we have become so accustomed to the way things are that we can no longer see the needs of others, the injustices done to them, or their pain. I wonder if that’s why so many of us are in shock over what is happening in our country today. We look on in disbelief and ask, Why? How could this happen? I don’t understand. I can’t imagine. Maybe it is because complacency has blinded us.

Look at everything that is happening today – the ebola outbreak in Africa, the lack of affordability, political dysfunction, violence, mistrust of the media and the government, calls for Ice and Immigration reform, the cruelty imposed by our detention system.

Those are not just problems to be fixed. Each one is a voice in a prophetic chorus crying out for change and warning of the consequences if we don’t. Each one of those is reading our tracks before we make them. And it is painful. It’s painful to see and it’s painful to hear.

More often than not prophets awaken us from our complacency. They let us know what we do not want to know, show us what we do not want to see, tell us what we do not want to hear, and confront us with what we do not want to acknowledge.

The prophetic cry is not about condemnation, judgment, or punishment. It is a calling, an asking, an insisting that believes we can be more and do differently. It sees more for us than we see for ourselves. It believes more about us than we believe about ourselves. The prophet’s cry is about hope, healing, and more life.

As Dr. King shared with us, Prophets have a dream for the people to whom they speak, not a prediction. 

What would if be like for you to welcome the prophet’s dream in your life today and in the life of our country? What is that dream asking of you? What do you need to do, change, or give up in order to be a part of that dream? How can you help that dream come true for others?

Read the tracks. Hear the cry. And welcome the dream.