The Willing Prophet
Prophets of the good Lord above are reluctant, in general. It’s understandable. People don’t like being told what to do. Furthermore, we don’t like being told that we’ve been bad and now we have to work really, really hard to fix all our mistakes to make it up to a deity most of us don’t see and don’t hear, but who judges us harshly (and sometimes swiftly as well). And, by the way, “I’ll save you from your most immediate enemies, but don’t expect too many miracles,” is not the same as, “I’ll make you rich and you’ll want for nothing.” I know. I looked it up.
So, when these guys (most are men, although a few were women, like Miriam, Moses’ sister, who knew how to find water in the desert) are approached to become prophets, most run from that fun task. Like, run the other way. As in, they’d rather jump into the turbulent ocean and be swallowed up by a giant fish/whale/monster of the deep than be a good prophet for the Lord.
But not me. If I were ever to be chosen (and it’s a wildly big “if” for this humanist Jew) I would not only embrace it, I would do it with my own personal style — and be “the insane dancing prophet.”
I would be one of those people, you know, standing on the corner, first quietly talking to myself, dancing to the best of my ability, then spreading guidance, rebukes, and unsolicited advice from above one small crowd at a time. I would have a…
