The Curse of the Prophet

Greek Mythology has long been revered for its psychological profundity. It reveals and speaks to our most deep-seated aspirations and fears. When I was growing up, a revered English Professor, close to retirement and at the apogee of his career, told us that if we wanted to be great in the English language, and let alone culture in general, we needed to know three things: Greek Mythology, the Bible (preferably in the King James Version), and Shakespeare. While we may debate the merits of that statement, what I think is beyond dispute is that all three are full of some of the greatest depositories of human wisdom and experience ever committed to writing.

A few summers ago I decided to brush up on my mythology, which, in my opinion, is never a wasted venture. It is important to remember that, much like the Sacred Scriptures, there are variants and different interpretive traditions. All great human stories beg to be told and retold, interpreted and handed down. Many of the great Greek myths are those told about the god Apollo. Most of the Greek gods are interesting. Like humans, they are a hodgepodge of mixed motivations and conflicting cosmic forces.

Perhaps even more interesting than the gods themselves are the poor mortals who interact with them. The two most fascinating to me when speaking of Apollo have always been Tiresias, Priest of Apollo, and Cassandra, Priestess of Apollo. Apollo, for the sake of memory, was the god of music, prophecy, healing, and the like. He was frequently revered across the Hellenistic world because, well, people have always needed healing, and often want to know the future, to be able to make advantageous decisions. Both Tiresias and Cassandra have a very unfortunate history with their patron god. Tiresias most famously was known for his gift of augury. He was so good, he made mortals and gods alike furious when he told them futures they didn’t want to hear. Bizarrely, he was blinded, and turned several times into a woman, then into man, then back to a woman, depending on the story. Because of the severity and cruelty of his punishments, by the end of his long life, he was reluctant to prophecy at all, because he knew that at the end of the day, people do not want to know the truth of the future.

Cassandra, on the other hand, received another curse. As Apollo’s Priestess, Apollo blessed her with exceptional gifts, as befitting his divine station. Apollo also wished, like so many Olympian gods, to obtain her affections. Also like so many mortals who receive great gifts, Cassandra became conceited and did not reciprocate in any way, either piously or amorously. Unable to rescind in particular his gift of prophecy, Apollo was full of rage. In his anger, he spat in her mouth, thus cursing her to prophesy the future accurately, but always with the curse that no one would ever believe her. It was thus her lot in life to see the horrors of the future, but remain mostly helpless to change it. Famously, she prophesied the downfall of her city of Troy, and also the loss of many members of her family. She even tried to burn the Trojan Horse when it entered the city, but was prevented from doing so.

How interesting it is that the gift of prophecy in Greek mythology is seen thorough a similar lens in the Hebrew Tradition. I have always found fascinating the lament of the prophet Jeremiah: “You seduced me, Lord, and I let myself be seduced” (Jeremiah 20:7). I choose this translation in particular because the New American Version and other English translations twist themselves into pretzels today trying to avoid fully expressing Jeremiah’s anguish, who explicitly accuses God of deceit, using the verb patah, which has a connotation of seduction or beguilement. God calls Jeremiah with such tenderness from even before his birth, but seemingly abandons him to the malice of his enemies. There is also a deliberate juxtaposition in the Old Testament between what we could call ‘establishment prophets’, or those who are state-sponsored or part of a guild, as we find in the time of the Judges, and the other prophets whom are often found on the fringes of society. Now, the establishment or institutional prophets are not always bad, or misled. For instance, these individuals appear before Elisha in 2 Kings 2 and inform Elisha of what he already knows, that Elijah’s departure is imminent. They stand at a distance as Elijah is taken up into heaven, and fifty of them are witnesses to the event (2 Kings 3:7). It does appear, then, that prophethood, like priesthood, could be considered related institutions. This should not surprise us, because just as many kings were also the heads of their state religion(s), for many religions, such a person would also be the oracle of their god(s).

Before and after the coming of Our Lord Jesus Christ, any person not affiliated¹ with his archetype, who fuses in himself these three munera (the sacred gifts of Prophethood, Priesthood and Kingship) is generally associated with false religion and the reign of tyranny. It seems that it is impossible for a person to exercise these three things integrally without the power of grace; specifically, that specific aspect of grace which we call theosis or divinization, where we are incorporated into God’s divine nature, making us more and more like God himself.

Prophets have often struggled mightily against we could call spiritual oligarchy/hierarchy, or institutionalized religion. Notice that I do not say institutional religion. True prophets, as opposed to mere fanatics, tend to have respect for institutional religion. Order, liturgy, worship, education, a system of rites and a network of charity, all these things work well in a stable institution. But institutionalized religion is when religion has lost its edge, its vision and its identity. Prophets have a knack for insuring that religion keeps being ‘weird’ and otherworldly. Prophets are like Apollo, spitting in the mouth of institutionalized religion: a rude and gross act to be sure, but one sure to draw attention. We see this of course most fittingly in the life of Christ; how lovingly he spoke of the Temple from childhood as “My Father’s House.” You cannot get more institutional than the Temple, and the prayers and sacrifices offered therein. The Institution of Old Testament Religion, as expressed by the Law of Moses and the Torah, was sacrosanct.

True Prophets also seem to have a certain charm that comes along with their curse. They are not usually uniformly loathsome. Apollo, for instance, was depicted as youthful and handsome. King Herod, who was vain and indolent, liked to listen to John the Baptist, even though he knew that infuriated his wife. It seems, therefore, that John the Baptist was not pure salt on the wound of King Herod’s conscience. Even Moses, with his speech impediment and tendency to wrath, was not without his charms. By the time he was dead and buried, he was spoken of lovingly in Deuteronomy as the meekest man who ever lived. Even the Prophet-King David cast out devils from Saul by the beauty of his Psalms, and was himself described as handsome above his brothers. I suppose it makes sense that God should give his true prophets at least some measure of charisma. After all, these people are meant to be convincing.

The Prophet Ezekiel, if he were alive today, would possibly be considered something like a performance artist. He demonstrated his prophecies in a way that even today are startling to read. Both he and Saint John relate being given a scroll which, upon eating it, tasted sweet as honey, but which turned their stomach sour. These accounts, related in Ezekiel 3:3 and Revelation 10:9, are in stark contrast to the words of the prophet David, “How sweet are thy words unto my taste! Sweeter than honey to my mouth!” (Psalm 119:103) We do know from his other Psalms that King David did at other times feel quite differently. There is a powerful spiritual lesson to be found here for all Christians, one that is often not talked about because it is hard and inconvenient. The first flourish of spiritual fervor, of receiving the Word of God, is sweet. And to enter into the Lord’s service is a sweet thing. God does not leave his servants without nourishment, companionship, and the joy which defines his disciples. However, many of the decrees of the Lord, as St. Paul said, are “inscrutable” (Romans 11:33), and confound us. To reach perfection, we must walk on the paths of pure faith and firm hope in order to arrive at perfect charity. The nourishment for that path is not candy and sweets, but the flesh and blood of a crucified Savior, the Holy Eucharist. And as Our Lord himself also said, his food and drink was the will of the One who sent Him (John 4:34).

In my own meditations, I have found a lot of material on Priesthood, but precious little on Kingship and Prophethood. I hope to provide a few of these, both for Priests and for Lay Faithful. These are extremely important, because the Body of Christ is out of balance. To make a little joke from weightlifting, the Church has been skipping “leg day” for a while, so we are really out of balance. Most of our engaged Christians know a lot about how to worship and serve in the Church, but do not know how to engage out of the Church, and do not possess a spirituality of why that is important.

To close, although it may seem a little dark, it is important not to live in a fool’s paradise: just as the path to glory is through the cross, and to life is through death, it seems that the path to truth is through ridicule. All of us have seen this in our lifetime: yesterday’s ‘conspiracy theory’ is today’s established fact, and sometimes what people deride as scientific quackery is in fact a novel and paradigm-changing way of looking at the world. I do not think we should think that this phenomenon is unique to our ‘post-truth’, mass-media age. I think it is a fact of fallen human psychology, and the imperfections inherent in human ignorance. Whenever any one of us speaks the truth, or utters a prophecy, there should be no greater confirmation of our rectitude than to hear the sound of laughter. Yes, there are madmen and grifters in the world, and there are many who deceive. Discernment will always be necessary. No wonder, perhaps, that the god Apollo was depicted as an archer, because if truth is like an arrow, then when it strikes true, that same spit in the mouth of the prophet has now become the poison on the point of the arrow. To the blazing light of truth, deceit may have its hiding places, but possesses no antidote.

¹ I use the word affiliated in the very technical theological sense. That is, “to be made a Son”, that is, by Baptism.