What do you hope to receive when your minister stands up to preach on Sunday morning? A gospel message taking you deep into the heart of God’s love in Christ? A prophetic declaration encouraging you to apply your faith to the burning issues of the day? A word of consolation or pastoral support? An explanation of a difficult passage of scripture? An early reprieve from a long and possibly boring dissertation?
The great theologian Karl Barth once suggested that the preacher should enter the pulpit with the Bible in one hand and the morning newspaper in the other. The sermon, in other words, needs to deliver the biblically-attested message of the gospel while at the same time relating that message to the mood and challenge of the hour.
David H. C. Read, formerly the minister of Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City, liked to say that the sermon can begin in Manhattan and move to Jerusalem or begin in Jerusalem and move to New York. The real disaster is when the sermon begins nowhere in particular, wanders all over the lot, and ends up in the familiar territory of “So what?”
It’s easy for us to complain, however. The fact of the matter is that preaching is exceedingly difficult and ministers need all the help they can get. The biggest help we can offer as parishioners is by simply letting them be themselves.
Please: no comparisons with the beloved Rev. Dr. So-and-So. Or the fireball around the corner. Or the preacher who uses the lectionary. Or the one who doesn’t use the lectionary.
Method is arbitrary. What counts is proclaiming the gospel with understanding and power. And every minister needs the freedom to do that in his or her own way.
Think of the differences amongst the gospel writers themselves. The no-nonsense, straight-to-the-point Mark; the tradition-loving Matthew; the bleeding-heart liberal, Luke; the philosophical egghead, John. The New Testament is willing to live with such differences. Why can’t we?
But even allowing for a supportive congregation, what can we do when the minister’s theology is out to lunch and the sermon a predictable dud?
For starters, we can focus more on the prayers and hymns and scripture readings. A bad sermon can also stimulate us to do our own thinking on the subject, perhaps even do our own research afterwards.
When the great American novelist John Updike died last year, much was written about his life and work — and not least about his lifelong practice of churchgoing. Imagine preaching to a super-perceptive writer like John Updike!
There must have been preachers who disappointed him. Indeed, Updike’s fiction gives us portraits of a number of ministers who disappoint. Yet Updike himself never dropped the practice of churchgoing. He claimed he needed his Sunday fix, needed the company of fellow believers. And don’t we all?
We are made for God, yes, but we are also made for one another. And part of our life in Christian community brings us into regular contact with the sermon, this strange but vital window onto God, this curious but compelling message of judgment and grace.
The preacher is like John the Baptist, saying “Don’t look at me. But do look at the one to whom I am pointing in all my weakness and confusion. ‘Behold the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world! He must increase, but I must decrease.'”
In the end, preaching is not a case of trying to impress people with verbal pyrotechnics, but of sharing the source of salvation. It’s a case of one hungry beggar telling another where bread can be found.
One of Updike’s ministers, Rev. James Purdy, was once asked by his denominational magazine what it was like to preach to the famous writer. Purdy first made it clear that, before God, nobody is famous. We’re all hungry sinners in need of grace. Then he went on to say: “It’s a joy to preach to him as a parishioner. John is a quiet and generous critic; he has a certain sparkle and twinkle in his eye so that you can tell when you’re on. And when you’re off, he masks it well.”
Would that every parishioner were as generous, and every preacher as deserving of that appreciative sparkle and twinkle in the eye.
