Numbers 11:26–29 Two men remained in the camp, one named Eldad and the other named Medad, and the spirit rested on them; they were among those registered, but they had not gone out to the tent, so they prophesied in the camp. And a young man ran and told Moses, “Eldad and Medad are prophesying in the camp.” And Joshua, son of Nun, the assistant of Moses, one of his chosen men, said, “My lord Moses, stop them!” But Moses said to him, “Are you jealous for my sake? If only all God’s people were prophets, and that God would put God’s spirit on them!” (NRSVue adapted)
Introduction
Have you ever had a job you just hated? When I was in college, I would come home in the summers to Austin Texas and build swimming pools. One of our “big” jobs was putting in a pool for Fred Akers, head coach of the University of Texas football team. I still remember him coming out onto the back porch one morning, looking out at the hole we had dug, and uttering words that have stuck with me in life and guided me like a North Star – “that’s gonna be a pool. Yes sir, that’s gonna be a pool.” Coach Akers was not around, thankfully, when our crew got about halfway done accidentally installing the diving board on the wrong end of the pool. That problem got fixed real fast. But it was down in that hole, swinging a pickaxe under the blazing Texas sun, sweat flying everywhere, that I knew — beyond all doubt — I must be called to go to seminary. After seminary, I pastored in Fort Worth while working on my PhD here at SMU, and then eventually began teaching. They say those who can’t do, preach. Those who can’t preach, teach. And those who can’t teach? Well, they become deans. And those who can’t dean? I’m not EVEN taking that line any further. Provost Mersey and President Hartzell — we’re very glad you can be with us this morning. Actually, I kind of liked that swimming pool job. But Moses, in the passage from Numbers 11 today, hated his job.
The Story
The children of Israel had just escaped Egypt, crossed the Red Sea, and started their long desert journey. I checked, and Google Maps clocks the trip at eleven days on foot. Moses stretched it to forty years. Average speed: about two miles per year. Moses is often thought of as a great leader, but I’m not sure that’s leadership—that’s more like meandering. And like any good road trip, complaints started early: “We’re hungry!” “Manna . . . from heaven . . . again . . . today?!” Moses finally breaks down:
“Why are you so hard on me, God? Did I conceive these people? Did I give birth to them? Where am I supposed to get meat for them? I can’t do this anymore. If you’re going to treat me this way, just kill me now.” Mercifully, God ignores the last request. Instead, God says: “gather 70 of the leaders of Israel and bring them with you from the camp out aways to the Tent of Meeting. And I will take of the spirit that is on you and I will put it on them. And I will also take of your burden and place it on them, so you shall not carry this alone.” So Moses gathers them, and the Spirit does indeed come upon them — and they prophesy. But here’s the twist: two men, Eldad and Medad, weren’t even in the meeting. They were still back at the camp hanging out and doing God knows what (probably grilling Manna burgers) — and they started prophesying too. Now Joshua, the orderly administrator (every organization needs one) panics: “Moses, make them stop!” But Moses, tired, wise, and maybe a little sarcastic, replies: “Are you jealous for my sake? I wish that all God’s people were prophets, that God would put the Spirit on them.”
The Prophethood of Believers
Protestant Christians often celebrate Martin Luther’s famous principle, which has come to be known as “the priesthood of all believers.” Too often it’s misheard as “We don’t need priests; we can go to God directly.” But Luther’s point was not that we don’t need priests; it was rather that we are all called to be priests for one another. And perhaps if we take Moses’s words seriously this morning, we might also speak of the “prophethood of all believers.” If the notion of the priesthood of believers reminds us that we are all called to be instruments of grace and forgiveness for each other, the “prophethood of believers” reminds us that we’re all responsible for speaking truth, bearing witness to hope, and seeking God’s shalom in the world.
What Prophets Do
Now maybe you’re asking, what exactly does a prophet look like and how can I, too, become one? Well, I’m glad you asked. Here at Perkins School of Theology we are in the business of training prophets whom God has raised up, and we start with ST 6350 – Introduction to Theological Studies and Research where Dr. Emily Nelms Chastain teaches students how to wear camel’s hair, eat wild locusts and honey, and yell judgment at strangers up and down Bishop Boulevard. And that’s just on day 1.
But in reality, prophets are far more varied than the stereotype of the solitary, angry preacher who emerges from the wilderness shouting judgment and doom against the king. In Numbers 11, prophecy was corporate, not solitary, and prophecy was not an ecstatic foretelling of the future but a communal empowerment for leadership.
The thing I love about Perkins School of Theology is the way it stands as the right school in the right place at the right time for nurturing this incredible variety of prophets, even if they don’t look, think, act, or speak like the stereotypes. Some sound like Amos, fiery and uncompromising. Some sound like Jeremiah, weeping and lamenting. Some sound like Isaiah, poetic and visionary. Some look like Eldad and Medad — the prophets who always show up late to class, never check their email, have completely forgotten that the course syllabus even exists, and yet somehow still ace the class.
Look, I know that Methodists aren’t supposed to gamble. But Perkins School of Theology is committed to the wager that theology is essential to the cultivation of prophets in our day and age; that prophets need more, not less theology.
In our time, and given the complexity of our world, being prophetic requires careful analysis and discernment; not just ubiquitous social media outrage. It requires all the tools of philosophy, history, ethics, and the sciences. It requires music, art, poetry, and dance.
Being prophetic today is less likely to look like the lonely, angry prophet and more likely to look like broad-based coalition building and grassroots community organizing.
In order to be a theology school that is shaping prophets, we need to be so interdisciplinary—and in our context, so connected to the rest of the university—that our prophets are as familiar with the mysteries of the trinity as they are with the mysteries of city council politics. Our prophets should be able to read and interpret both the Book of Exodus and the latest congressional spending bill—each equally confusing, and each involving golden calves. In the formation of prophets, there is no room in a theology school for insularity, parochialism, and seclusion.
Now it’s true that some self-appointed prophets do nothing more than walk around full of critique and judgment. But being prophetic is not only about making your voice heard; it has always been first and foremost about the ability to listen – and so to make oneself vulnerable and open. In the same way, being prophetic is not just about the ability to expose the inhumanity of others. It is about the ability to point to hope and transformation.
Being perpetually annoyed and annoying does not make you a prophet. It just makes you indistinguishable from the rest of us on a Monday morning. Self-appointed prophets frequently see everything in black and white, us versus them, and so we forget how complex and colorful our world is. And we also forget the full humanity of our neighbor, including our enemies, whom Jesus taught us to love.
No matter how deep is the night, we need prophets who can point us toward the beauty of the moon and the brilliance of the stars.
Theology Is for Everyone
And here’s the remarkable thing. If we take seriously Moses’s wish that all God’s people were prophets, then the office of the prophet is not something rare and one-off. It is the common calling of all the people of God. And this morning that means that theology is for everyone.
That’s why I love Eldad and Medad. They weren’t in the tent. They were in the camp — among the people. They missed orientation, forgot to RSVP, didn’t get the zoom link, failed to work through “proper channels,” and the Spirit found them anyway. Eldad and Medad confirm that theology school can even be home to reluctant prophets – those running the opposite direction – or those who are so busy coloring outside the lines in life, that they don’t think theology is for them. But it is!
That’s how the Spirit works. Not confined to pulpits, chapels, or lecture halls. The Spirit shows up at kitchen tables, in hospitals, in refugee camps, in protests, in prison cells, in living rooms, on-campus and online. Some will be prophets with microphones; others will do it with a covered dish or a community garden or the kind of poetry that sneaks into your soul.
Theology must be accessible to everyone. It must be available to those who can afford it and those who can’t. To clergy as well as laity. It must be accessible to future pastors but also chaplains, teachers, counselors, leaders of faith-based non-profits, and social workers. But it must also be available to lawyers, business owners, realtors, investors, dancers, and artists. The jury is still out on the Starbucks Barista who keeps spelling my name Ryan when I’ve been repeatedly saying Bryan.
The late Walter Brueggemann said prophets don’t just describe reality and name injustice; they imagine alternatives. They envision new worlds. They offer possibilities. Little could be more important in a theology school than the cultivation of the prophetic imagination. Michael Jordan once said that as a key to success in preparing for basketball games, he would close his eyes and imagine the ball leaving his hands, soaring in slow motion through the air and swishing through the net. Troy Aikman said the same thing of football. Before a game, he would imagine the ball leaving his hand in slow motion, spiraling down the field, and being caught by a receiver. Now some of you might be saying, everywhere I look I see the church moving in slow motion. You’re gonna be great prophets!
You don’t have to thunder from Mount Sinai, mind you. Sometimes prophetic witness is as simple as saying, “This isn’t right,” or “There’s hope here,” or, “No, we’re not going to replace bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper with Doritos and Red Bull in order to “boost attendance.”
Theology is for everyone. Speaking the truth in complicated situations and learning how to have hard conversations is everyone’s job. Without theology, we risk becoming wrathful prophets with no hope for the world, or naïve prophets with no depth, or court prophets who only know the words, “Good news, Your Majesty—everything’s fine!” With theology, our voices gain power, relevance, conviction, community, and clarity.
Conclusion
Perkins School of Theology stands as the right school at the right time to offer prophetic theology that is not just for classrooms and pulpits. It’s for newsrooms and workplaces. It’s for boardrooms, hospitals, and sidelines. It’s for anyone bold enough—or crazy enough—to believe that God still speaks.
So today listen deeply. Speak boldly. Act courageously. And sing loud enough to drown out the cynics and those filled with despair.
Because God is not finished with the world. And a whole new line of prophets is just around the corner. Because here’s the thing . . . and there’s really no other reason for getting up in the morning: a new world is on its way.
Watch the sermon here: Dean Stone’s Installation Service
