The Hebrew Bible has much that will resonate and inflame at the same time, but the issue is not what should be redacted and discarded, but rather to learn even from those parts for which we have a visceral reaction. So, I advocate a hermeneutic of engagement; a relational approach. Among the many virtues in this approach is the fact that it will expand the angle of our thinking, while allowing us to engage with the rich layers of the text. Reflecting on books and ideas of several writers and activists, each coming from different circumstances, Robert Coles notes that there are three essential questions that form the foundation of their works. How does one live a life? What kind of life? And for what purpose?2 Our lives chronicle moments of violence, pain, oppression and injustice but also freedom, peace, redemption and grace. These questions and the choices are often made in the face of devastating moments, universal and profound in their relevance. What is essential for us in exploring the Hebrew Prophets critically is the idea embedded in these questions, namely that finally we do not live unto ourselves and in a vacuum. Our lives are inextricably tied to each other, and so how we live our lives, the kind of life we live, and the purpose, are all immediately relevant, and interconnected with each other. These questions are not to be forgotten. We must not forget who we are, for in so doing we will not forget the moral calling that we have, and the universe that beckons us. “Maybe we forget because maybe not to forget is more than we can bear; we ourselves . . . take stock morally, spiritually, humanly—we confront the great existential questions that Camus and Sartre and Simone Weil and others have put on us.”3
The world faces something of a challenge with a critical component of the prophets’ message, namely the particular emphasis on individualism in many societies, and the challenge of embracing community that the biblical text invariably emphasizes. When a well-known axiom such as “it takes a village” is used in American political discourse, it is frequently pilloried in some quarters, and at other times cast aside as socialist or some such remark meant to be disparaging and dismissive. Yet, many who hold the very distinct view that individualism is the core of the American worldview also seek to emphasize their rootedness in the biblical tradition. It is, I believe, a challenging chasm to bridge.
According to Israelite understandings, it is not as isolated individuals, but as members of a community that we realize our being . . . The moral soundness of the community, moreover, is mostly clearly manifest in its treatment of its most vulnerable members
. . . Individual responsibility is not ruled out by this sense of solidarity; yet it gains an essentially social meaning. I act not simply for myself, but for the wellbeing of the whole people. I am answerable not simply to myself and my own principles, but to the whole people and its foundational principles.4
Ogletree’s idea regarding the essential tension between the individual and the community is one that strikes at the biblical core. Not only within the political realm does one hear the language of individualism extolled as a principal virtue, but within religious communities, where faith, narrowly construed as individualistic, is viewed as the ideal.
The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection, that one is sometimes willing to commit sins for the sake of loyalty . . . and that one is prepared in the end to be defeated and broken up by life, which is the inevitable price of fastening’s one’s love upon other human individuals . . . Many people genuinely do not wish to be saints, and it is probable that some who achieve or aspire to sainthood have never felt much temptation to be human beings . . . One must choose between God and Man, and all “radicals” and “progressives,” from the mildest Liberal to the most extreme Anarchist, have in effect chosen Man.5
Some such as Socrates or Jeremiah or Joan of Arc or Gandhi or Mother Theresa or King or Wiesel may be thought of in such regard, but none of whom sought to be a saint; whatever such titles are bestowed on them by others, it is not what they set out to be or do. Neither the saint nor the prophet sets out to be the saint or the prophet.
The incontestable reality is that a person’s faith does not develop in a vacuum without the influence and nurturing of others within the community. Some Christian communities have embraced this idea, and e.g., within the Roman Catholic and Anglican traditions, before one can enter into the ordination process, one must first journey through a discernment process where members of the community engage with the candidate precisely to discern the person’s calling. It is this idea that must be extolled, namely that one functions within the community and in the context of what is in the best welfare of the community.
In the case of communities growing out of biblical tradition, the courage to speak with impartiality at times when popular opinion is being swayed by materialistic individualism, myopic expediency, racism, sexism, economic elitism, or nationalistic self-interest will be fostered by the prophetic tradition . . . and especially by the central reality of the God of compassionate justice.6
On the issue of individualism and community, Ezekiel is frequently cited as the prophet whose words regarding the role of the individual is the fulcrum upon which the shift occurs from communal responsibility to that of the individual.7 This however is an oversimplification of Ezekiel’s message. Even as one reads and interprets this text in the context of the exile, it seems much more evident that in fact Ezekiel not only is not radically shifting the focus from community to individual, but rather he is reorienting the moral responsibility of the community in light of the exilic experience.
Ezekiel 18 suggests that the prophet is not elevating the individual so much as he is seeking to reconstitute moral community in the face of exilic sentiment that they are simply the victims of the sins of a previous generation . . . Ezekiel criticizes the notion of inherited guilt in order to call the present generation of exile to repent, turn, and live (vs. 20–29). It is not to individuals that Ezekiel speaks, but to a generation in exile.8
One might say that in entering the life of another in a meaningful way is one pathway through which we might further discover who we are. It is the reality of an unavoidable interconnectedness. Referring to E. M. Forster’s “only connect” and Martin Buber’s “I–Thou,” Coles underlines the significance of this interconnectedness. “All of this reminds us to trust, finally someone else, and thereby finally some self-respect that is more than one’s own egotism. What good is it to accumulate knowledge, know the theories, know the means of earning a living; know the intricacies of how to work the system, but not be human, how to be kind and loving to ourselves and others?”9 Or as Mandolfo observes, “According to Bakhtin, we are all co-authors of one another’s identities. In other words, the whole story about us cannot be told by us alone . . . Part of the job of authoring others involves listening to them as responsibly as we can, listening and responding fairly.”10 In recent years, our lexicon has included the language and the horrific circumstances surrounding what has been coined “blood diamonds.” Such diamonds with their beauty, and patrons with the natural impulse to buy these beautiful pieces of nature now have to face the reality that the only way these diamonds are possible and available are on the backs and lives of those who have been crushed to produce them. The diamonds are mined for the sake of the insatiable appetite of others for the opulent life, and for those who are willing to sacrifice the lives of others to accumulate such wealth and beauty. Such is the devastating cycle. Less we imagine that this is a moment that does not affect all of us, we are mistaken. In fact, this idea has everything to do with us who look to God as the architect of our existence and God’s ongoing presence that guides us. Ultimately, the