The sermon out of which Michael B. Curry's book Crazy Christians: A Call to Follow Jesus came is the first chapter of his book, but it is also still available to be viewed online. It's a pretty tight sermon, and the book is just as tight. Curry refers to each chapter of the book as an essay in the preface, but it's also easy to read them as sermons (I'm guessing that's where they originated from), and so that's what I did.
The content of each of these messages is thoughtful, clear, connected both to the biblical text and to our current times. Curry is adept at pulling examples of Christian discipleship from historical figures and regular folks he has met on his journey. They have the rhythm and cadence of well-paced sermons, even when read silently (though in her forward, Rev. Dr. Katharine Jefferts Schori encourages us to read them aloud). When I have more time, I'd like to break down the construction of these messages a bit more to get at their flow, but for now, I just want to share some brief thoughts.
One thing that stood out for me is that the essay/sermons in this book often seemed to parallel the biblical text rather than have them at its center. Oftentimes, by the end of the chapter, I had to go back to the beginning to see what passage Curry had begun with to jog my memory. Though each sermon is not centered around the biblical text at hand does not mean that the text doesn't speak. Rather, Curry is never far from the text when he is creating tableaus and scenes from contemporary or historical or even other biblical cultures to illustrate the heart of the message. For me, it was helpful to see how Curry's sermons were soaked in the biblical text while also not feeling like they were a dull exegetical foray. Curry seemed mostly to be preaching on a biblical theme that he rooted in our own context with contemporary images and characters. In many cases, the connection with the text was often one word: "Crazy" in Chapter 1--"We Need Some Crazy Christians," "Something Greater" in Chapter 2--"We Are Part of Something Greater Than Ourselves," "Feet" in Chapter 3--"Following Jesus with Our Feet," and so on. It did not come of as gimmicky at all, but rather served as the hand hold that allowed him to straddle the divide between the text and today's context.
As I was reading, I kept wanting to hear a conversation between he and Walter Brueggemann regarding prophetic imagination. Curry's sermons seem to be dealing with the world and present circumstances in ways the Brueggemann would approve of--especially his message on what the true meaning of "gospel welcome" would be (see "The Gospel Witness of Welcome will Rearrange the World"). He writes, "We never know what can happen when we feel called to follow Jesus' gospel witness of welcome. Heeding such a call can require incredible courage. Sometimes this gospel way of welcome can lead us to put our very lives on the line. But Jesus' way of welcome can inspire us to keep working to do what is right in a world where too often too much is wrong" (113). And the move he makes of imagining the Galilee where Jesus will meet his disciples as today's global context: "We are, all of us, in Galilee" (128).
This is a book I will likely revisit soon, not only to do a little deeper digging into the sermons to understand their construction, but also for inspiration for how to preach in ways that are faithful to both the biblical text and our times.
Showing posts with label foolishness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label foolishness. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Heard the Word: Angela Hancock
Hancock preached on Matthew 22: 1-14. Now, if you're just reading this to gloss for ideas, that's great. I want you to keep reading. After you click the link for the text and read it. All of it. I'm serious. Go do it.
Yeah. Verses 13 and 14 are in there.
Hancock read the passage, then ushered up immediately into prayer, "Because after that, I think we need it."
My next post on Hancock's lecture deals with a lot of the underpinnings of this sermon, but for now, I just want to step it through, because it's construction isn't all that complex or original:
She begins with three contemporary stories of individuals who are 'invited.' Invited to church, invited to deeper faith, invited into faith-based relationships. And all three of them somehow turn down the invitation. But Hancock reminds us that there always comes another invitation. So...how do we handle this text?
She then hopped into the text, really imagining the scene with us, and acknowledges quickly that it isn't a normal story about the world as we know it. Something else is going on here, something bigger than that that we can't quite wrap our arms around.
And so, she jumps into the theological implications of the text, sorting through popular ways of interpreting it. It was like she was sorting through old photographs, looking for the one that matched the picture in her mind, and yet, there wasn't one there. She kept setting aside interpretations and digging further into the pile, eventually uncovering with us that this story is not something we can fit into a Polaroid frame. No. It's something much worse than that, she told us.
But she told us we could avoid the terrible. We could avoid the hard. We could just look at the text and avoid verses 11-14. Or 13 and 14. We could just make it a question of whether or not you will accept the invitation to the theological wedding banquet. And drop the mic there.
But Hancock pushes us to consider verse 14--verse 14 which causes us such holy confusion, which causes us to wonder what in the world is happening here, which causes us to want to fix the story. Again, we encounter the idea that this is not a normal story about a normal wedding banquet that Jesus is telling here. And so again, she moves through the traditional interpretations of this text: that the man is not righteous enough to be at the party, that the man is not faithful enough to be at the party, because he didn't care enough to take the robes offered him at the entrance to the party (literalist interpretation), because Jesus never would have said this and so he didn't.
For a moment, she steps back and looks at this interpretation, and uncovers our bias. We want so badly for the man to be kicked out because he deserves it. We want so badly for Jesus not to come off sounding like a jerk here. But then, there's verse 14 to deal with, and we find that it's true, this is not just a story about humanity's failing or a man who doesn't dress appropriately for a party. Instead, it's a story about God's way with us. And if this is how God deals with us, then what are we to make of this?
At this point, my notes dropped off. Because the interpretive turn that Hancock took was new to me. She insisted that Jesus is really the one kicked out of the banquet, that Jesus is the one who was found to be unworthy by the host and was bound, and tossed, and sent where nobody wants to go. It was Jesus who was chosen. Hancock concluded with an image of Jesus having offered his wedding robe to us, so that we could partake of the banquet. And then, she walked off stage.
So, my first instinct was to pick up my Bible and frantically locate the text and read the other stories surrounding it. Here, Jesus is talking to the chief priests and elders at the temple in Jerusalem. The two parables that Jesus tells before this refer to them (they finally realize). I could see how Hancock came to this interpretation. But I was also surprised that with as much openness as she had in the exegetical process in the content of her sermon that she didn't make this process more clear. Instead, she dropped it on us, then walked away.
This is a general critique of the Festival--it felt like most of the preachers didn't know how to end a sermon. So often, I felt like a burden had been dropped on my lap, needed still to be unpacked and given some kind of instruction in order to take it out into the world. So often with these sermons, I felt I would rather leave that package sitting on the pew when I left. Now, I'm going to err on the side of generosity and assume that these folks know they are preaching to professional preachers, and so they can toss a few harder passes at us than someone who is just picking up the sport of faith, but I couldn't help but shake this feeling that some of what they were teaching in doing this just WILL NOT translate in our congregations today.
But past this, I think this was an important sermon for me to hear because I am often so caught up in sermon delivery and structure. This sermon was not delivered or structured in any way that was surprising or even all that exciting. It was entirely the focus on the story, knowing that we would eventually get to the difficult part that I didn't understand, it was the promise that we wouldn't ignore that strangeness of it that kept me engaged. For me, it tied in nicely with Brian McLaren's session the previous morning about reshaping how we look at texts and how we might do better to engage them fully. For me, Hancock's message showed me how to deal with a difficult pericope that doesn't initially sound like it winds up in a place of grace. But through faithful interpretation and understanding, it might just do that.
Yeah. Verses 13 and 14 are in there.
Hancock read the passage, then ushered up immediately into prayer, "Because after that, I think we need it."
My next post on Hancock's lecture deals with a lot of the underpinnings of this sermon, but for now, I just want to step it through, because it's construction isn't all that complex or original:
She begins with three contemporary stories of individuals who are 'invited.' Invited to church, invited to deeper faith, invited into faith-based relationships. And all three of them somehow turn down the invitation. But Hancock reminds us that there always comes another invitation. So...how do we handle this text?
She then hopped into the text, really imagining the scene with us, and acknowledges quickly that it isn't a normal story about the world as we know it. Something else is going on here, something bigger than that that we can't quite wrap our arms around.
And so, she jumps into the theological implications of the text, sorting through popular ways of interpreting it. It was like she was sorting through old photographs, looking for the one that matched the picture in her mind, and yet, there wasn't one there. She kept setting aside interpretations and digging further into the pile, eventually uncovering with us that this story is not something we can fit into a Polaroid frame. No. It's something much worse than that, she told us.
But she told us we could avoid the terrible. We could avoid the hard. We could just look at the text and avoid verses 11-14. Or 13 and 14. We could just make it a question of whether or not you will accept the invitation to the theological wedding banquet. And drop the mic there.
But Hancock pushes us to consider verse 14--verse 14 which causes us such holy confusion, which causes us to wonder what in the world is happening here, which causes us to want to fix the story. Again, we encounter the idea that this is not a normal story about a normal wedding banquet that Jesus is telling here. And so again, she moves through the traditional interpretations of this text: that the man is not righteous enough to be at the party, that the man is not faithful enough to be at the party, because he didn't care enough to take the robes offered him at the entrance to the party (literalist interpretation), because Jesus never would have said this and so he didn't.
For a moment, she steps back and looks at this interpretation, and uncovers our bias. We want so badly for the man to be kicked out because he deserves it. We want so badly for Jesus not to come off sounding like a jerk here. But then, there's verse 14 to deal with, and we find that it's true, this is not just a story about humanity's failing or a man who doesn't dress appropriately for a party. Instead, it's a story about God's way with us. And if this is how God deals with us, then what are we to make of this?
At this point, my notes dropped off. Because the interpretive turn that Hancock took was new to me. She insisted that Jesus is really the one kicked out of the banquet, that Jesus is the one who was found to be unworthy by the host and was bound, and tossed, and sent where nobody wants to go. It was Jesus who was chosen. Hancock concluded with an image of Jesus having offered his wedding robe to us, so that we could partake of the banquet. And then, she walked off stage.
So, my first instinct was to pick up my Bible and frantically locate the text and read the other stories surrounding it. Here, Jesus is talking to the chief priests and elders at the temple in Jerusalem. The two parables that Jesus tells before this refer to them (they finally realize). I could see how Hancock came to this interpretation. But I was also surprised that with as much openness as she had in the exegetical process in the content of her sermon that she didn't make this process more clear. Instead, she dropped it on us, then walked away.
This is a general critique of the Festival--it felt like most of the preachers didn't know how to end a sermon. So often, I felt like a burden had been dropped on my lap, needed still to be unpacked and given some kind of instruction in order to take it out into the world. So often with these sermons, I felt I would rather leave that package sitting on the pew when I left. Now, I'm going to err on the side of generosity and assume that these folks know they are preaching to professional preachers, and so they can toss a few harder passes at us than someone who is just picking up the sport of faith, but I couldn't help but shake this feeling that some of what they were teaching in doing this just WILL NOT translate in our congregations today.
But past this, I think this was an important sermon for me to hear because I am often so caught up in sermon delivery and structure. This sermon was not delivered or structured in any way that was surprising or even all that exciting. It was entirely the focus on the story, knowing that we would eventually get to the difficult part that I didn't understand, it was the promise that we wouldn't ignore that strangeness of it that kept me engaged. For me, it tied in nicely with Brian McLaren's session the previous morning about reshaping how we look at texts and how we might do better to engage them fully. For me, Hancock's message showed me how to deal with a difficult pericope that doesn't initially sound like it winds up in a place of grace. But through faithful interpretation and understanding, it might just do that.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Reading Up: Proclamation and Theology by William H. Willimon
The first book I picked up on my Festival of Homiletics reading list was William Willimon's Proclamation and Theology. In so, so many ways, I think that this was the exact book I needed to be reading now. The book reads like an enthusiastic, exhorting, cheering, encouraging, instructing sermon to preachers to get their theological act together about their preaching. He argues that the main issue with preaching today isn't an issue of style or accessibility, but rather is an issue of theology--AKA that it's needed in preaching.
This book was so chock full of gems that I'm going to have a tough time only sharing a few. But the biggest pieces I'm taking away have to do with the idea that in a strong theology of preaching, and preaching that takes its theological task seriously, the preacher doesn't matter all that much. God does. God, a constantly communicating Wordsmith, is taking our imperfect little selves and using us as vessels for the Word still being spoken out into the world today. For Willimon, the preaching task isn't to be taken lightly, isn't to be blown off, but is to be participating in God's continuing creative acts in this world.
What I especially love about Willimon's book is that it addresses failure. Failure by preachers, failure by the Word, failure as it realistically happens when the Word is not received. As a perfectionist, I'm struggling with this in my own preaching life, having a hard time not feeling like if I just studied harder, presented myself more generously, chose better words, that I would be able to pristinely convey this incredible message I've been given to share. Willimon says that's just not possible. And it's a relief, honestly.
My main issue with the text comes in the section in which Willimon encourages preachers to "talk like the Bible" (47). While his indication that this means presenting rich, multilayered sermons, various literary forms, and to honor the biblical world (he almost talks about it like the written Word is the New Jerusalem...hmm...) is something I can get on board with, I really struggled with his idea that we need to be teaching a new vocabulary to the congregation through preaching. I get what he's getting at--words like 'salvation,' 'sin,' 'suffering,' need to be given biblical context in order to really understand them as people of faith in the here and now. At the same time, I'm concerned about inaccessibility. To me, an important part of the preaching task is ensuring that this vocabulary isn't just adopted with definitions handed down. Rather, preaching turns that vocabulary inside-out, reaching deep into it to pull out meanings that reverberate in the present context. I think Willimon could get on board with that, but he walks a fine line in this section.
My favorite chapter was entitled "Cross and Resurrection in Preaching," and Willimon did an excellent job of fleshing out why preaching without the cross and resurrection is simple foolishness. What Willimon calls us to is Pauline foolishness--a turning upside-down of expectations to the point that the incredible things that come out of it absolutely have to be the work of God. And I'm all about some Pauline foolishness.
I love that this isn't a text that's a 7-step sermon preparation process, but instead is both the before, after, and why of a way of living life as someone who preaches. Like I said, right book at the right time.
Here are some particular gems:
This book was so chock full of gems that I'm going to have a tough time only sharing a few. But the biggest pieces I'm taking away have to do with the idea that in a strong theology of preaching, and preaching that takes its theological task seriously, the preacher doesn't matter all that much. God does. God, a constantly communicating Wordsmith, is taking our imperfect little selves and using us as vessels for the Word still being spoken out into the world today. For Willimon, the preaching task isn't to be taken lightly, isn't to be blown off, but is to be participating in God's continuing creative acts in this world.
What I especially love about Willimon's book is that it addresses failure. Failure by preachers, failure by the Word, failure as it realistically happens when the Word is not received. As a perfectionist, I'm struggling with this in my own preaching life, having a hard time not feeling like if I just studied harder, presented myself more generously, chose better words, that I would be able to pristinely convey this incredible message I've been given to share. Willimon says that's just not possible. And it's a relief, honestly.
My main issue with the text comes in the section in which Willimon encourages preachers to "talk like the Bible" (47). While his indication that this means presenting rich, multilayered sermons, various literary forms, and to honor the biblical world (he almost talks about it like the written Word is the New Jerusalem...hmm...) is something I can get on board with, I really struggled with his idea that we need to be teaching a new vocabulary to the congregation through preaching. I get what he's getting at--words like 'salvation,' 'sin,' 'suffering,' need to be given biblical context in order to really understand them as people of faith in the here and now. At the same time, I'm concerned about inaccessibility. To me, an important part of the preaching task is ensuring that this vocabulary isn't just adopted with definitions handed down. Rather, preaching turns that vocabulary inside-out, reaching deep into it to pull out meanings that reverberate in the present context. I think Willimon could get on board with that, but he walks a fine line in this section.
My favorite chapter was entitled "Cross and Resurrection in Preaching," and Willimon did an excellent job of fleshing out why preaching without the cross and resurrection is simple foolishness. What Willimon calls us to is Pauline foolishness--a turning upside-down of expectations to the point that the incredible things that come out of it absolutely have to be the work of God. And I'm all about some Pauline foolishness.
I love that this isn't a text that's a 7-step sermon preparation process, but instead is both the before, after, and why of a way of living life as someone who preaches. Like I said, right book at the right time.
Here are some particular gems:
- "...preaching is not about us--not about you the listener or about me the preacher. Preaching is about God and by God or it is silly" (2).
- "There is a reletntlessness about the speech of this God, an effusive loquaciousness, a dogged determination not to rest, not to fall silent, not to cease striving until every single one of us is part of the conversation. Therein is our hope. Here is a divine-human dialogue that is initiated and, at every turn in the road sustained, by a living, resourceful, long-winded God, thank God" (15).
- "We are to love the text more than we love our congregational context" (20).
- "Much Christian worship ought to be predicated on the premise that, if we can get a group of ordinary, otherwise voiceless people to strut their stuff before the throne of God on Sunday, we will be able to do the same before the city council, or the Pentagon, or the administration on Monday" (27).
- "Preaching is that sort of public speaking that strives never to be original. Preaching is Christian only when it is biblical, when it is obviously derivative of, submissive to, and controlled by the biblical word" (33).
- "Favorite historical-critical questions--What is the earliest strata of this passage? How can this statement be credible to modern, scientific, western minds? Are these the genuine words of Jesus?--are not as relevant as Scripture's originating, homiletical question: Will you come forward, be part of a new, countercultural people of God, and follow Jesus where he leads you?" (34).
- "The pastor bears the burden of listening on behalf of the whole church" (42).
- "To be forced through our daily reading and interpretation of Scripture to see ourselves not primarily as servants of the whims of the congregation but rather as servants of the demanding Word can be true pastoral freedom" (46).
- "The Word, by its very nature not self-evident, is prone to incomprehension and misunderstanding. Failure is everywhere for the Word" (52).
- "A preacher is caught in that incarnational tension of having to speak a word for God but being utterly unable, by our humanity, to speak for God. The preacher must therefore stand up and proclaim in a resonant, strong voice, 'Thus saith the Lord!' but at the same time confess with the young Isaiah, 'Woe is me! I am a person of unclean lips and dwell among a people of unclean lips'" (61).
- "Sometimes the best sermons do not argue the congregation into something they have not yet known but rather point to and name that which the congregation undeniably knows" (76).
- "'He is risen!' In a sense, this is as far as faithful preaching goes" (77).
- So if preaching fails and fails often, preaching also, by the grace of God, succeeds. Despite all obstacles and hindrances, people do hear" (79).
- "If there is one thing we preachers fear more than the possibility of crucifixion it is the potential of resurrection" (79).
- "The essential patience required of preachers, the freedom from homiletical anxiety over the reaction of our listeners, the confidence in the power of the preached word to accomplish what it wants, is possible only if, in fact, Jesus did rise from the tomb" (82).
- "Any pastor who is not tempted by despair has probably given in to the world too soon, has become dishonest or deceitful about his or her homiletical failures, has become too easily pleased by and accommodated to present arrangements, is expecting too little of the preached word. Weekly confrontation with the gap between what God dares us to say and what we are able to hear leads many of our best and brightest to despondency" (85).
- "Easter keeps differentiating the church from a respectable, gradually progressive, moral improvement society" (87).
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