‘I am the prophet and I smolder and burn. I scream and cry and wonder why you never seem to learn. To hear with your own hears, with your own eyes to see. I am the prophet won’t you listen to me?’
– Michael Card, from the song, The Prophet
It seems everyone these days is talking about not talking about Bruno.
Bruno, of course, is one of the characters in Disney’s most recent cinematic contribution, Encanto, which tells the story of the Madrigal family and their magical house. I’ll try not to ruin the movie much for those who have not seen it, but briefly, the members of the Madrigal family, all except one, Mirabel, have received magical gifts from their magical dwelling. With each gift, however, comes a tremendous burden, none greater than the one carried by the unfortunately un-talked about Bruno.
The problem with Bruno, it seems, is that he’s a bit of a downer. As the song informs us, Bruno has a habit of telling people things they don’t want to hear. On his sister’s wedding day, the sun was shining, and all seemed right with the world. Bruno said, ‘it looks like rain,’ and soon enough – a hurricane! A townsperson is told his fish will die, and it happens the next day. One man complains about being told he would increase in girth over time and, Walla! Beer gut! To another Bruno points out a receding hairline, and of course is blamed when the recipient of this news eventually goes bald. People come to fear his every ‘stuttering or stumbling,’ his ‘muttering or mumbling.’ They come to believe that Bruno is the cause of every impending calamity of which he speaks.
But he isn’t. He’s just a seer. An observer of reality. A truth-teller. If there are storm clouds in the sky, you should probably move the wedding inside. If your fish is sick, you should take care lest it die. If you eat too much, you will gain weight. If your hairline is making a run for your backside, you may as well get used to the idea that you’ll go bald someday. Bruno isn’t the cause of things. He’s just the one who points them out.
Which, I will reveal, remembering my promise not to ruin the movie too much, lands him in exile; hiding in the eaves and crawlspaces of his own home while his family and community do their darndest not to talk about him.
The Bible has people like Bruno. They’re called prophets. Seers and truthtellers. They speak for God, sometimes in the form of divine visions, more often by simply reading the signs of the times and communicating what is wrong and where things may go if certain courses aren’t altered (all under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, of course). Sometimes they tell of hopeful things (as does Bruno) but such words usually get lost in the rush of their chastisements and warnings. Theirs is the reputation of Gandalf in the halls of Rohan. They are seen as the harbingers of bad tidings. Storm crows.
God surely appreciates their efforts and rewards them, if not in life, in eternity. But when it comes to human society, the task of a prophet is a pretty thankless job. People don’t always (usually?) want to hear the truth. The most common reaction to a prophet’s words is exemplified by King Ahab’s response in the wake of Micaiah warning against his plan to go to war: ‘Didn’t I tell you? He never prophecies anything but trouble for me!’ (2 Chronicles 18:17). Jeremiah was, among other things, tossed in a cistern and held in stocks for his troubles. Isaiah, tradition holds, was sawed in half. Zechariah stoned in the courtyard of the Temple. No prophet had it easy. Frederick Buechner noted that ‘no prophet is on record as having asked for the job…like Abraham Lincoln’s story about the man being ridden out of town on a rail, if it wasn’t for the honor of the thing, the prophets would all have rather walked.[1]
But we need prophets. To help us see when we are wrong. To speak truth when the world goes mad. To point the way to sanity. Bruno, who no one wants to talk about, is exactly what the Madrigal family needs. Without him and his ‘prophecies they couldn’t understand,’ there would be no hope for them. Bruno’s truth-telling is what his family most desperately needs (watch the movie and you’ll find out precisely why). Which is why they most certainly need to talk about him, to think about his words and act upon them, just as much as people needed to talk about, listen, and respond to the prophets in Bible times.
Every generation needs its prophets. Its Brunos. Ours is no exception. There is a deplorable dearth of truth in our day. People create their own versions of it, even going so far as to label them ‘alternative facts.’ They stroll along in ignorance in self-created fantasies which harm others (and themselves). They deny evidence of impending calamity, even as they sow its seeds. They prefer to silence serious discussion of important matters for fear of upsetting either themselves or the people around them; like the false prophets and priests of old they cry ‘Peace, peace!’ when there is no peace (see, Jeremiah 6:14). Whether we are talking about political, cultural, environmental, spiritual, medical, scientific, or other realities, too many stick their heads in the sand and ignore the signs of the times. They’d rather pretend their ‘wedding day’ will be lovely, even as a hurricane bears down upon them.
Which is why I thank God for the Brunos in our midst. Yes, they may be downers, they may rain on our parades, but we need them. We dare not forget about them, sending them off to live in the eaves and basements while the world falls apart. We need them to call us to awareness, repentance, and action.
So by all means folks, let’s talk about Bruno.
And, more importantly, listen and respond to what Bruno has to say.
Under Christ’s Mercy,
Brent
[1] Frederick Buchner, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker’s ABC, s.v. ‘Prophet.’
