Strong Sermon
On the day of the first sermon at my internship site, I walked throughout the sanctuary greeting people. I was understandably nervous. I would spend the next nine months with these strange faces and I hoped they would like me. I introduced myself to Max, an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair sitting on the front row. Later I would learn that Max was a retired executive, out of the era I had watched with fascination on the TV series, Mad Men.
Despite his frail health, Max hadn’t lost his strong handshake. He looked at me with piercing eyes and said, “Are you our preacher today?”
“Yes, sir. I am the new intern here at the church and I will be preaching today.”
“Well, I like a strong sermon, young lady. Do you understand what I mean?”
“What do you mean?”
“Speak in a strong voice and give us a strong message.”
Truth be told, I grew up in Baptist churches where only men preached and altar calls were made nearly every Sunday, so I wasn’t at all sure what a strong message would mean to a lifelong greatest-generation Presbyterian like Max. And in fact, my demeanor tends toward the gentle rather than the forceful. I am more likely to quote the nature-loving poet Mary Oliver than fire-breathing John Calvin in a sermon. I am more interested in getting the congregation to reflect and ask questions than give them all the answers.
Max never told me what he thought of my sermon though we developed a warm relationship over the months. He was the first, but not the last to warn me against weak preaching. Just recently, without ever hearing me preach, another person warned me against preaching a “sermonette.” Despite my suspicion that there is some gender bias happening in these comments (I cannot imagine these suggestions being made to my male counterparts), it is an interesting question to ponder. What makes a good (not to mention strong) sermon?
Depending on your tradition and preferences, there are different answers. It may need to be biblically-grounded or be a call to social justice or have lots of great illustrations or make you feel warm and fuzzy or completely convicted. And the challenge for preachers is that there are a multitude of expectations sitting in the congregation on any given Sunday.
While each preacher must journey into her or his own way of preaching, I think the essential quality of a sermon is that it is authentic. When you can make a true human connection to those listening, you have earned their attention and consideration. People want to know that you know the joys and struggles of life and that you find the Word of God not stuck in the pages of the Bible but living in the midst of us.
Authenticity is not an abdication of authority but a redefinition of it. Life in a flattened world demands with-you authority not top-down authority. Authenticity is what we uniquely have to offer in a world where people have unlimited access to information and other’s perspectives. While this may be a newer concept in business schools, it is rooted in the incarnational foundation of Christianity where we worship the God who is with us.
When I find a way to speak about how a text engages the mess of my own life or the messy life of the world, I see excitement in people’s eyes. They recognize their own fears, joys and pain and are invited to allow the Word to address them. This kind of preaching takes boldness, courage and hard work. It pulls us away from party lines to real engagement with the mystery of God.
I once went to hear Anne Lamott do a book reading in a large theater in San Francisco. She stood at the lectern and mostly read from the pages of her new book. She was quiet, reflective and scripted. But the audience was spellbound – laughing and crying our way from strangers to friends for just an evening. The theater became church for two hours. And it wasn’t her style or skill as an orator that drew us together, it was her superpower of authenticity.
I often think about that night with Anne nearly ten years and eight years of pastoring later. As one who sometimes uses notes and sometimes doesn’t, sometimes stands behind a pulpit and sometimes doesn’t, sometimes tells great stories and sometimes does more teaching, sometimes sticks close to the biblical text and sometimes has a point to make indirectly from the text, I am more convinced than ever in the strength of authenticity as a marker for excellent preaching.
“Authenticity is not something you can learn in preaching courses and it is not a skill you master and forget. ”
You can’t phone in authenticity. It requires showing up every day to your life, to the light and darkness in your soul, to the terror and beauty of the world, to sitting in silence for long stretches and wrestling with God like Jacob sleeping on a rock. This is the great challenge of being a pastor or priest. But really, it’s the great challenge for all of us who want to show up in the world and be who we are meant to be.