“The watchpost:” What Walter Bruggemann taught me about the prophetic imagination

Good morning.

This poem is from my collection Bones of Light, and I want to offer it again on another day when we are yearning to make meaning and stay grounded--then we'll look at what Dr. Brueggemann continues to teach us.

The watchpost (Habakkuk’s mantle)


The oracle speaks.

Layers of whispers sound
like sand poured through fingers.
Prayer leaves a grit in my mouth.

There is an urge from somewhere,
and if I could only separate the grains,
line them up on a piece of dark paper,
a clearer picture would emerge:
	even a mere pause of
	violence, hatred,
	destruction, and greed.
How long will I cry out
and you will not answer?

I will stand at my watchpost.

Yet wisdom says that the rampart is not high
but deep within, that in the cave of my heart
the cliff rises where I can stand and see
the work that soothes the struggle,
	the work of my own soul,
	the awareness of your desire
	and my own resistance.

Someone let loose a lie
that life would naturally improve,
that somehow goodness would gather speed
like water flowing downhill.

But wholeness is a buried gem,
excavated from a heart of stone.
Each blow of the hammer on the rock
inspires hope to sing in the veins:
	a desire to be free.

The entrance to the cave
is locked to all but me,
and the One who dreams me is already within
holding the key to open myself.

For there is still a vision.

Walter Brueggemann was my old testament professor at Columbia Theological Seminary, and I will be forever grateful for the lessons he taught me. He was actually the one who first encouraged me to transfer to The Episcopal Church. The faculty had met and wondered with me about my vocational path (“you’re not reformed in any way”), and Dr. Brueggemann and I ran into each other in the bread aisle at Kroger. Honest to God, the bread aisle. We had a long talk there, and he gave me a hug and encouraged me to take the risk and listen to where the Spirit was guiding me. So I did.

Listening and discernment were key practices in what I learned from him in class and in life. Each day he began class with a poem that he had written the night before, preparing for the day’s lecture. It was such a powerful way to begin the class, and that pattern of turning to poetry continues to shape me. I would sit there and close my eyes, listening for whatever image or phrase hooked me as we prepared to delve into the teachings of the prophets.

The poem I included above is inspired by that enigmatic figure Habbakuk, one of the prophets in the Hebrew texts whose images and insights are remarkable. We all know how Dr. Brueggemann focused on the life and teachings of the prophets, and I think we can all see how their insights connect directly with our lives today.

How can we foster that deeper sense of prophetic imagination that can transform the way we live in the world? How do we resist the lull of complacency and comfort? How do we resist the rigidity of rote liturgical repetition? How do we confront the abuses of empire? How do we nurture an ever-deepening sense of trust in the Spirit’s guidance? What does it mean to be authentically human, aware of our dependence on and participation with the Creator? These will forever be essential questions for us to explore in our human life.

While very disappointing to say the least, what we are experiencing now is nothing new. There is always the shallow, human impulse to grasp onto power. There is always an ‘emperor’ somewhere, it seems, seeking to assert themselves and taking advantage of the human need to find meaning and belong. This is why consciousness is key, and the prophets knew this and sought to remind us to ground ourselves in that awareness of our connection to God rather than any shallow economy.

So let us keep paying attention, trusting that the Spirit is very much at work. There will always be the grasping pull of empire, with figures seeking to assert control in pursuit of their own greed and agendas. But thank God there is also the ever-present reminder of prophetic imagination that calls us back to ourselves, back to our deeper identity as authentic human beings created by God to thrive together in community, honoring the One who created us all.

Blessings, today and always,

Stuart