Remembering Walter Brueggemann: Lament, Imagination, and the Church We Could Be

Walter Brueggemann passed away recently. I shared a quick video tribute, pointing people toward his work, but I also had the chance to speak with our community about some of the core themes that ran through his writing.

If you’ve never read him—or maybe you’ve only come across a few quotes floating around online—here’s a primer on his life and his unique voice.

A Scholar and an Educator

As a pastor’s son, Brueggemann was shaped by the rhythms of a small rural church. After completing his BA, he went on to earn a Bachelor of Theology, a Doctorate of Theology, and eventually a PhD in education.

It was that blend—a theologian’s depth and an educator’s heart—that gave his writing such power. His books were meticulously researched, footnoted to the heavens, and yet accessible, engaging, even enjoyable to read.

He published over a hundred books (long before AI could churn out drafts) and spent three decades teaching at Columbia Theological Seminary. He had a rare gift: weaving together academic insight, theological depth, and pastoral care in a way that made you both learn and love the learning.

Lament as an Act of Faith

One of Brueggemann’s most important contributions was his reminder that lament is not a sign of weak faith—it’s actually an act of faith.

We live in a culture that avoids sadness, that numbs pain. But he argued that those in power prefer it that way. Because when we lament, when we name what is wrong, we also name what could be better. Lament opens the door to imagination.

So next time you feel grief rising, remember: your sadness is not a failure. It is the first step toward envisioning something new.

An Alternative Community

Brueggemann believed God’s dream for the church was not simply “more church,” but a demonstration of a new way to live together.

This meant resisting consumerism, pushing back on individualism, and rejecting fear-based systems. It meant becoming a microcosm of what’s possible in the world—people coming together across entrenched divisions to care for one another, learn from one another, and pursue a common good.

And for him, that “common good” often meant justice for the poor. Drawing from the Old Testament, he invited us to take seriously the ancient call to care for orphans, widows, and strangers; to practice debt forgiveness; to leave enough behind for those in need. The question was never just what does the Bible say? but how can we live this together?

The Prophetic Imagination

Perhaps his most famous idea, the “prophetic imagination,” wasn’t about predicting the future at all. It was about reading scripture with creativity.

Propositions are fixed in time and place, but poetry can move through generations. Read the Bible as prose and it tells you what happened. Read it as poetry and it begins to tell you what is happening.

One of his examples was Sabbath. As a scholar, you might read it as an ancient law from a desert people. As a poet, you see it as an act of resistance—a declaration that we are more than what we produce.

This is what he meant by prophetic imagination: slowing down, reading deeply, and letting scripture breathe new possibilities into the present moment.

Walter Brueggemann leaves us with a vision of faith that isn’t afraid to grieve, a vision of church that dares to live differently, and a way of reading scripture that refuses to settle for the obvious.

May we carry that forward—lamenting, imagining, and embodying the alternative community God invites us to be.