We need a new order of ministers to stand in pulpits. It's not

Hear this, O seekers of truth, for the words of Susan L. Taylor carry the weight of a profound truth, one that resonates through the ages. "We need a new order of ministers to stand in pulpits," she declares, not to call for empty words or songs, but for a new vision of faith—a faith that extends beyond the walls of worship and into the very heart of human suffering. The time has come for a religion that compels its followers not just to sing and praise in a sanctuary, but to rise from their knees and work together to end the needless suffering that pervades the world. For a faith that turns its back on the misery of the world is no true faith at all; it is a godless faith, hollow and empty of the compassion that is at its core.

In times of old, the prophets did not dwell in palaces or in places of ease. They walked among the people, bearing the weight of their struggles, and their voices were as thunder against injustice. Consider the life of Moses, who stood before the might of Pharaoh, demanding justice for the suffering of the Israelites. He did not simply pray for the people; he acted on their behalf, defying the powers of the world in the name of the God who calls us to seek justice and mercy. His was a faith that moved beyond the sacred rituals, calling for freedom, compassion, and action. And so, too, must we recognize that true faith is not content to remain within the confines of worship; it must transcend the walls of the church, mosque, or temple.

It is said that the ministers of old were more than mere speakers; they were the leaders of their communities, guiding their people not only in matters of prayer but in matters of justice and humanity. The early Christians, for instance, were known for their care of the poor, the sick, and the oppressed. They did not simply gather in quiet prayer but went out into the streets, caring for the destitute, healing the sick, and challenging the corrupt systems of their time. This was not a religion of silence and retreat, but one of action. The apostles, though often persecuted, stood firm in their belief that true worship of God was inseparable from the work of serving others.

In our own time, we see the same need for action, as the cries of the suffering echo in every corner of the world. From the fields where children labor under the weight of injustice, to the crowded cities where the poor and disenfranchised struggle for a life of dignity, the suffering is undeniable. The words of Susan L. Taylor ring true—any religion that does not seek to end this suffering, that does not compel us to come together in love and solidarity, is a godless religion. For what is faith if it does not lead us to act? What is worship if it does not move us to love our neighbors, to heal the brokenhearted, and to bring justice to the oppressed?

In the face of such suffering, we are called to redefine our understanding of faith. Consider the life of Mother Teresa, whose work among the poor in Calcutta showed us that faith without action is but a hollow shell. She did not wait for the world to change; she took it upon herself to live out the teachings of love and compassion. She stood in the trenches, alongside the most destitute, showing us that religion must be active, that the love of God compels us to serve those most in need. She is a living example of the truth that true religion cannot be confined to worship services—it must flow outward, like a river, into the world.

So let us take these words to heart, O seekers. Faith that does not compel us to act is empty, and a religion that does not call us to end suffering is without God. As we reflect upon the teachings of the ancients, let us remember that we are called not only to worship but to serve—to be ministers of love, justice, and compassion in a world that so desperately needs it. Let us go forth, not just with words of praise, but with actions that heal, that uplift, and that change the world. For in this way, we will fulfill the true purpose of faith, bringing light to the darkness and hope to the hopeless.