Showing posts with label Barbara Brown Taylor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Barbara Brown Taylor. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Reading Up: The Preaching Life by Barbara Brown Taylor

Barbara Brown Taylor (or BBT as I like to call her now that we're BFF) has a real knack for saying what she's saying without saying it. Or, as my short story teacher called it, showing instead of telling. Perhaps because of the title of this book, I was expecting something a bit more prescriptive, but with BBT, prescriptive is never even on the menu (see 36).

But the closest she gets is in her chapter entitled, "Preaching." The chapters before have all been leading up to the vision of the preaching life, task, and moment that she presents here, so the concept in all its fullness isn't foreign at all, but seems an obvious extension of how she understands call, church, and the world. Most succinctly, BBT understands preaching to be a cooperative task between God, herself, and the community of faith--discount any of the three, and you have something that would be classified as other than preaching in BBT's book (ha!), I think.

The accumulated effect of her conversation about life, call, church, the world, and preaching is a sketch of the pastor as careful observer of the world and lives that God loves so, so dearly. And she is also the bearer of a difficult but good news that is not so easy to deliver or to receive if you're doing it honestly. It strikes me that BBT is so effective because she is so adept in that art of indirect speech Rollins emphasized. Though, I will say more in a moment about when that speech goes silent.

When I was in college, I majored in English and sociology. When people asked me what I was going to do with that, I would laughingly tell them, "I'm going to watch people, then write about it." At the time, I hadn't encountered the Gospel--at least not in any meaningful sense of the word 'encounter.' And so, as my vocation has become a bit more clear and as my faith has deepened and begun to truly shape my life, I would probably now say that I'm going to watch the world, listen for the Word, and then write about that.

The second half of The Preaching Life appears to be a collection of sermons. And so, I'm moving through those a little slower than the first half, savoring them. But one thing I notice about them is the same thing I noticed about her sermon at the Festival of Homiletics--they don't really have endings. I mean, they end. That's true. But they don't feel finished. I told a classmate it felt like being invited over for a meal, encountering a lavishly set table, lifting the lids of still-simmering pots to smell the flavors to come, beginning to have a good conversation over a glass of win, then, at the moment when supper will finally be served, of having all the food packaged up in Tupperware and sent home with you to reheat and eat in front of the television.

I think I understand that BBT creates these scenes, sets them in front of the congregation, and begins the task of looking at them together, expecting the examination to continue after that particular moment of examination is over. This is a subtle art. And I admire subtlety a great deal. But in the preaching task, sometimes the Good News needs some additional help in being revealed. And this is where celebration makes all the difference.

In my first preaching class last semester, Dr. Grundy had us write the 3-minute ending of our sermons first, emphasizing celebration. For many of us, this was a new idea, one we had to learn from textbooks, and then from actually hearing some of our classmates who knew what they were doing do it. It felt uncomfortable, I'll admit, to be asked to add so much flesh and skin to the sermon, but it was effective. Very few of us left the assembly wondering how God might carry us forward into the next day with the message we had just received. And I think this is what's missing from BBT's endings--the understanding that God's hand is held out to us in that moment for us to grasp and walk into the new life waiting there for us. And that takes daring, dedication, and imagination all at once.

And so, here's my preaching goal: to be BBT with celebration. Not a shabby goal, I don't think.

Here are a sampling of the quotes I want to continue to bathe in:

  • "God has given us good news in human form and has even given us the grace to proclaim it, but part of our terrible freedom is the freedom to lose our voices, to forget where we were going and why" (5).
  • "Our job is to stand with one foot on earth and one in heaven, with the double vision that is the gift of faith, and to say out of our own experience that reality is not flat but deep, not opaque but transparent, not meaningless but shot full of grace for those with the least willingness to believe it is so" (13).
  • "When God calls, people respond in a variety of ways. Some pursue ordination and others put pillows over their heads, but the vast majority seek to answer God by changing how they live their more or less ordinary lives" (27).
  • "For me, to preach is first of all to immerse myself in the word of God, to look inside every sentence and underneath every phrase for the layers of meaning that have accumulated there over the centuries. It is to examine my own life and the life of the congregation with the same care, hunting the connection between the word on the page and the word at work in the world. It is to find my own words for bringing those connections to life, so that others can experience them for themselves. When that happens--when the act of preaching becomes a source of revelation for me as well as for those who listen to me--then the good news every sermon proclaims is that that God who acted is the God who acts, and that the Holy Spirit is alive and well in this world" (33).
  • "Understood in this way, preaching becomes something the whole community participates in... If the preaching they hear is effective, it will not hand them sacks of wisdom and advice to take home and consume during the week, but invite them into the field to harvest those fruits for themselves, until they become preachers in their own right. Preaching is not something an ordained minister does for fifteen minutes on Sundays, but what the whole congregation does all week long; it is a way of approaching the world, and of gleaning God's presence there" (34).
  • "The church's central task is an imaginative one" (41).
  • "It is a matter of learning to see the world, each other, and ourselves as God sees us, and to live as if God's reality were the only one that mattered" (44).
  • "The theological word for this experience is revelation, but the process, I believe, is imagination" (48).
  • "My relationship with the Bible is not a romance but a marriage, and one I am willing to work on in all the usual ways: by living with the text day in and day out, by listening to it and talking back to it, by making sure I know what is behind the words it speaks to me and being certain I have heard it properly, by refusing to distance myself from the parts of it I do not like or understand, by letting my love for it show up in the everyday acts of my life. The Bible is not an object for me; it is a partner, whose presence blesses me, challenges me, and affects everything I do" (60).
  • "A sermon, on the other hand, is an act of creation with real risk in it, as one foolhardy human being presumes to address both God and humankind, speaking to each on the other's behalf and praying to get out of the pulpit alive" (74).
  • "When I say 'I' from the pulpit, I want them to say, 'Me too.'" (84).
  • "This is one of the hardest and most rewarding aspects of the job. We do not make sermons out of air; our creations, poor or brilliant as they may be, are always variations on someone else's theme. The main melody is always a given, and even when we launch into our own bold improvisations we are limited to a scale of eight notes" (87).


Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Preaching Lessons: Barbara Brown Taylor and MaryAnn McKibben Dana

In a dialogue and Q&A session, BBT and MAKD discussed parts of their writing work and their own engagement of the preaching task. I'm posting a picture of my full notes below, but I do want to make comments on a few points.

  • Language: In so many ways, language and its revision has come up in sessions today. I also mentioned it in my discussion of some of Willimon's work. I think as a person who grew up unchurched, I understand not the simple discomfort with "churchy language," but its misappropriation and misconstrual in popular media. What I think "sin" is is likely not what your average unchurched person thinks I think it is. I think one of my areas of strength in ministry is my ability to write, speak, preach, and pray in a vernacular that is sacred and yet accessible. I'm struggling some with a tension I feel from the generation above me in changing some of this language. BBT said something really excellent, though, "Revising our language completely can be dangerous. Sure, it's accessible, but any time we open the Bible, there is the language again. We have to deal with it." I agree with her sentiment that Bible paraphrases don't deal well with the problem, I also think that with translations like the CEB becoming more common (ha!), there are ways our language might change without abandoning sacredness. But still...it's something I'm chewing on.
  • MAKD on the Need To Knows for new preachers: 
    • There is nothing more interesting than the biblical text. No illustration. No story. Nothing.
    • Using Evernote has enabled her to organize her preaching thoughts so much better.
    • Not every meal you make is a 4-course masterpiece; a modest meal can also feed those present. (So, stop being a perfectionist preacher already, Chelsey.)
  • In the emergent church, the role of the pastor and the preaching task seem to be breaking open. It's an exciting time in which there seems to be a lot of opportunity to step outside of the standard 15-20 minute sermon box and to lean into the strengths of the preacher. Congregations are open to this. But BBT also shared that she thinks the preacher's role will always be as a "designated person among the community who speaks the truth of what is life-giving, meaningful, and will bear weight in a way that enables the gathered community to nod and say, 'Yes.'" Seems simplified, but I'm digging the image.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Heard the Word: Barbara Brown Taylor

Barbara Brown Taylor and students from Eden. Boom.
You can access the full-text of BBT's sermon here courtesy of Time.com.

It started of well. A hymn about darkness (Brian Wren's "Joyful is the Dark"). A vivid reading of Exodus 20: 18-21 and Luke 9: 32-36. The beginning of a sermon titled, "Inside the Dark Cloud of God." Taylor set out her preaching task early on--that while instead of preaching in the direction everyone was looking, that she instead was wandering from the crowd, looking in the opposite direction, and finding God in the darkness.

Taylor made clear that this was not some apophatic effort on her part. Rather, through Exodus 20, she digs into the idea that God IS dark. Dark like a cloud. And that dark is so, so much harder to look at, but so very formative to who we are as people of faith. She called us into a place where we wandered into the darkness, telling us that the darkness was not a place to pass through, but is actually God's home. This home is completely off-putting--we have no sense of control, of direction, of ability to use any of the tools and equipment we rely on in the light. Instead, we only have what we came in with, and the stark faith that we realize has only really taken us where we want to go anyway. The darkness, Taylor said, inspires us to hold out the broken pieces of ourselves to God and to say, "Here. Do what you want with these." It is place of true humility, true uncertainty, and true promise.

And then the sermon ended.

I wish I were kidding. As we rose and shared the responsive prayer ("A Prayer for Darkness in an Age of Glare" by Rod Jellema), I was confused. What just happened? I turned to my preaching professor who was sitting next to me and asked him, "What just happened?" He was uncertain as well. And as others filed out the door, I continued to ask myself and my classmates, "Seriously. What just happened?"

Because I had just started to step into the darkness of that cloud with Taylor. I had just begun to see how the resourcelessness, the darkness, and the loneliness might just be something where God could do some amazing work. And I was preparing to step in more fully. I was preparing to learn how the preacher might lead into that cloud. I was hoping to also find some grace in that cloud. But my expectations were left hanging, and I was left completely disoriented. Was she leaving us in the cloud to illustrate a point? Was she just pressed for time? Why didn't she deal at all with the Luke text? What is going on?

And so, after scribbling my notes, I went to make my way out of the sanctuary. And exiting at (nearly) the same time (I had to loiter just a few moments) was Barbara Brown Taylor herself. And I had to tell her. I had to stop her and say, "You know, I am completely disoriented by your message." And her response, "Well, you should be. It's not something that is preached on often. We don't talk about it." She went on to say that Scripture, Christian tradition, and our own experience all testify to the darkness, but that we still don't talk about it. And we need to. And that's when she laid it on me. "So, that's your job. You preach it so that it's not so disorienting in the future." Whoa. That was heavy. I mean, I still managed to smile for the photo, but whoa.

I still don't know about the message itself. Part of me is cynical enough to wonder a little bit about whether it was an excellent tease for her latest book. But part of me is feeling like the sense of unease I felt (and still feel) about that message is illustrative of the deeper truth of the thing--that darkness is disarming and uncertain, and you can't preach on it without experiencing a bit of it yourself. In any case, now I have to go read Learning to Walk in the Dark. Not such a horrible task, I suppose.