A primary or foundational sense of order can sustain us in times of exile and disorder. Richard Rohr explains:
We must first honor the plank of order, next walk the plank that is always disorder, and only then fall into the ocean of infinite everything. When we are committed to the law of Torah, or basic law and justice, for example, we can then dare venture into the disruption of the Old Testament’s prophets, and trust that we’re being led on a great journey. There must be enough order to contain the disorder, enough authentic conservativism to hold together the scary advance of history, enough containment to hold a lot of variation. This very real tension is necessary to make us clarify our thinking, refine our laws, and stretch our humanity. Paul called this phenomenon “the folly of the cross” (1 Corinthians 1:18), where God took the worst thing, the killing of the Christ-Man, and made it into the best thing, the very redemption of the world.
We can recognize this new order (reorder) when it is less violent and more universal than the previous arrangement. Jeremiah leaps toward such a reorder by introducing the unthinkable idea of a whole new covenant (31:31–34) to replace the old one. Hear YHWH speaking to him:
I will not cease in my efforts for their good, and I will put respect for me into their hearts, so that they turn from me no more. It will be my pleasure to bring about their good, and I will plant them firmly in this land, with all my heart and soul.
—Jeremiah 32:40–41
Jeremiah has successfully walked us through the trauma of exile, all the while breaking the logic of vengeance and privilege that we normally use to interpret such events. Jeremiah proclaims that YHWH loves Israel even more when they sin: “I have loved you with an everlasting love, so I am constant in my affection for you” (Jeremiah 31:3).
Where did Jeremiah get the freedom and courage to talk this way? Only God could have provoked such generosity. Whatever inner experience Jeremiah underwent to transform his theology, it must be allowed to fully transform ours. It’s the movement from external signs of belonging to the internal “heart” religion (Jeremiah 32:39–41) so treasured by Jesus. Let’s just move entirely beyond any notion of retribution or punishment, he joyously promises, as the frame for how God’s justice is done!
Sincerely religious people, trained in forgiveness, exodus, exile, and crucifixion, should be the readiest and most prepared for this full journey into unconditional love, but up until now that has only been the case in a small remnant of every group. These are the evolved people whom we called “saints” and “prophets.” Like Moses, Jeremiah, Harriet Tubman, the suffragettes, and others, they always emerge before, during, and after any big societal event—be it a disaster or a major rearrangement of the historical reality.
Reference:
Adapted from Richard Rohr, The Tears of Things: Prophetic Wisdom for an Age of Outrage (Convergent, 2025), 73–76.
Image credit and inspiration: Kryuchka Yaroslav, Untitled (detail), photo, USA, Adobe Stock. Click here to enlarge image. Things will break, and we are invited, when ready, to put the pieces back together again.
Story from Our Community:
I was raised Catholic and put myself into self-imposed exile decades ago. After a failed marriage, children to support, and a hectic career in Silicon Valley, going to Mass felt like a “repeat after me” empty exercise. Now in reading the Daily Meditations from CAC, I am learning to apply contemplation to a very ordinary and simple life. When I talk to God, I speak to the creator of the Earth, the oceans, the mountains, the forests, the cosmos and I rest in the simple question, “What is mine to do?” Thank you for offering me the courage to know that this path—this prayer—is a worthy one.
—Carol H.
