Challenging preaching
09/11/14 05:11
For most of my career, I have found the end of the season of Epiphany to be challenging. Epiphany is the longest season of the Christian year and by the end of that season, there is a healthy anticipation for what is coming. There are a few festivals in the end of Epiphany: Reformation Sunday and All Saints and the final Sunday of the season is the celebration of the Transfiguration. But what really occurs for me is that I am already anticipating Advent. Advent itself is a season of anticipation - a time of looking forward and preparing for that which is yet to come.
The lectionary which sets the pattern for the texts we use in worship focus on the end of Jesus’ ministry as recorded int he Gospel of Matthew this year. It is a three year cycle, so we visit Mark and Luke on subsequent years, with a smattering of John thrown in throughout the cycle. I find the parables of this section of Matthew to be especially challenging. We are drawn to some of the gentler parables about generosity and grace and forgiveness, but these parables are often about justice. And Matthew, writing at the end of the 1st Century, with the destruction of the temple and harsh Roman oppression fresh on the minds of his mostly Jewish audience, is wanting to proclaim God as champion of justice.
Part of the challenge of preaching these texts in our context, is that we are not the victims of similar oppression. We haven’t felt the same type of attack on our religion, our young people, our communities and the like. As they say, “It’s hard to sing the blues from a life of luxury.”
As a preacher it is tempting to lean away from Matthew’s parables. In year A the Hebrew texts are interesting and challenging and uplifting. There have been years when I have given in to that temptation and prepares sermons that speak of the particular challenges and decisions made by the people of Israel as they moved toward maturity of faith.
For some reason, however, this year, I have been carrying those challenging parables around in my head, turning them from one side to another. Perhaps it is because there is a spark within those stories that speaks to some of the challenges of the contemporary church. The span of my career has been a time of decline in membership and participation for mainline congregations in the United States. We have seen decreases in funding and staffing for our denominations and in support for our ministers from our judicatories. There are times, these days, when we pastors feel a little bit like we are out on our own in a very challenging environment. Growth in Christian churches in the US these days is primarily a matter of people moving from one congregation to another. The number of people with no religious affiliation is growing. It is becoming increasingly popular to point out the hypocrisies of institutionalized religion. Those who do participate in church tend to be less active and less involved than was their parents’ generation. Within the church there is no shortage of people who bemoan the changes and wonder why we can’t go back to the way things used to be. Another saying comes to mind: “The reason they call them the good old days is that we weren’t so old. There are days when it does seem like we are under attack.
To compare the situation of contemporary mainline congregations to that of Matthew’s 1st Century audience, however, is a bit of a stretch. In truth we don’t suffer oppression. The way to our future is not so bleak as it must have seemed to those people.
So today we’ll wrestle with a parable of ten bridesmaids. 5 were prepared for an extra long wait for the bridegroom. 5 were not. The unprepared bridesmaids missed the party. I suppose it would be easy to preach the parable as an admonition to be prepared and to make sure that you are among the half who get chosen and not the half who are left out. The problem with that interpretation is not what it says about us, but the image of God that comes from thinking that way. Do we really want to think of God as one who requires some to be left out and whose judgment is so harsh that it turns a deaf ear to appeals for forgiveness? Do we really want to encourage those who have surplus to refrain from sharing? There are a dozen possible interpretations of this parable that seem to lead faithful people down an inaccurate and incomplete path.
As a theologian, I have always been drawn to complex questions and though I seek answers, my faith is based more on living the questions. I am drawn to the challenges far more than simple answers. And I often assume that the people with whom I minister are the same. I’ve been known to end a sermon with an unanswered question and the declaration that some things are too big for simple solutions. While there are some people in our worship services who appreciate genuine wrestling with difficult questions, there are others who come to worship seeking reassurance and answers. The really tough discussions can leave them feeling frustrated.
So it is a delicate balance that I seek - honest questions requiring deep faith and answers that support those who need them. Fortunately genuine worship doesn’t hinge on a single sermon. There are plenty of times when the power and meaning of worship is carried by music and prayer more than some kind of preaching excellence. As one of my teachers reminded us with a gentle question, “Do you want people to leave worship filled with the brilliance of your preaching, or with a deeper connection with God?” I have to admit that any brilliance I achieve pales in comparison with the God that we serve.
It is good to remember that worship is not about me. It is about connecting with God.
The lectionary which sets the pattern for the texts we use in worship focus on the end of Jesus’ ministry as recorded int he Gospel of Matthew this year. It is a three year cycle, so we visit Mark and Luke on subsequent years, with a smattering of John thrown in throughout the cycle. I find the parables of this section of Matthew to be especially challenging. We are drawn to some of the gentler parables about generosity and grace and forgiveness, but these parables are often about justice. And Matthew, writing at the end of the 1st Century, with the destruction of the temple and harsh Roman oppression fresh on the minds of his mostly Jewish audience, is wanting to proclaim God as champion of justice.
Part of the challenge of preaching these texts in our context, is that we are not the victims of similar oppression. We haven’t felt the same type of attack on our religion, our young people, our communities and the like. As they say, “It’s hard to sing the blues from a life of luxury.”
As a preacher it is tempting to lean away from Matthew’s parables. In year A the Hebrew texts are interesting and challenging and uplifting. There have been years when I have given in to that temptation and prepares sermons that speak of the particular challenges and decisions made by the people of Israel as they moved toward maturity of faith.
For some reason, however, this year, I have been carrying those challenging parables around in my head, turning them from one side to another. Perhaps it is because there is a spark within those stories that speaks to some of the challenges of the contemporary church. The span of my career has been a time of decline in membership and participation for mainline congregations in the United States. We have seen decreases in funding and staffing for our denominations and in support for our ministers from our judicatories. There are times, these days, when we pastors feel a little bit like we are out on our own in a very challenging environment. Growth in Christian churches in the US these days is primarily a matter of people moving from one congregation to another. The number of people with no religious affiliation is growing. It is becoming increasingly popular to point out the hypocrisies of institutionalized religion. Those who do participate in church tend to be less active and less involved than was their parents’ generation. Within the church there is no shortage of people who bemoan the changes and wonder why we can’t go back to the way things used to be. Another saying comes to mind: “The reason they call them the good old days is that we weren’t so old. There are days when it does seem like we are under attack.
To compare the situation of contemporary mainline congregations to that of Matthew’s 1st Century audience, however, is a bit of a stretch. In truth we don’t suffer oppression. The way to our future is not so bleak as it must have seemed to those people.
So today we’ll wrestle with a parable of ten bridesmaids. 5 were prepared for an extra long wait for the bridegroom. 5 were not. The unprepared bridesmaids missed the party. I suppose it would be easy to preach the parable as an admonition to be prepared and to make sure that you are among the half who get chosen and not the half who are left out. The problem with that interpretation is not what it says about us, but the image of God that comes from thinking that way. Do we really want to think of God as one who requires some to be left out and whose judgment is so harsh that it turns a deaf ear to appeals for forgiveness? Do we really want to encourage those who have surplus to refrain from sharing? There are a dozen possible interpretations of this parable that seem to lead faithful people down an inaccurate and incomplete path.
As a theologian, I have always been drawn to complex questions and though I seek answers, my faith is based more on living the questions. I am drawn to the challenges far more than simple answers. And I often assume that the people with whom I minister are the same. I’ve been known to end a sermon with an unanswered question and the declaration that some things are too big for simple solutions. While there are some people in our worship services who appreciate genuine wrestling with difficult questions, there are others who come to worship seeking reassurance and answers. The really tough discussions can leave them feeling frustrated.
So it is a delicate balance that I seek - honest questions requiring deep faith and answers that support those who need them. Fortunately genuine worship doesn’t hinge on a single sermon. There are plenty of times when the power and meaning of worship is carried by music and prayer more than some kind of preaching excellence. As one of my teachers reminded us with a gentle question, “Do you want people to leave worship filled with the brilliance of your preaching, or with a deeper connection with God?” I have to admit that any brilliance I achieve pales in comparison with the God that we serve.
It is good to remember that worship is not about me. It is about connecting with God.