You may remember this moment from the funeral for Reverend Clementa Pinckney, who was one of nine Black victims tragically killed in the June 2015 shooting at Mother Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina. Following his recitation of the hymn, Amazing Grace, President Barack Obama broke into song, and the congregation joined in, a chorus of unity in the face of terrible tragedy.
In the ten years I’ve presided over our Summer Worship Series in Anderson Auditorium, no summer stands out like 2015. The preachers of that summer engaged, acknowledged, and referenced that terrible event in various ways…or they didn’t. No matter how a preacher addressed or didn’t address the church violence in Charleston, I received critiques from members of our congregations – thoughts on what should be preached, on how topics like gun control and racism should or shouldn’t be addressed, and whether there are boundaries for politics in the pulpit.
Over that summer a polarity formed in my mind – what I came to term the Unity vs. Prophesy debate. It has resurfaced occasionally each summer since, though not to that extent, but I’ve never really grappled with it, until now. (Oh, so the Fourth of July is the time to grapple with it? What better time to grapple with it?)
Based on ten years of after-worship conversations, some of us express a clear preference for sermons that emphasize calls for harmony and shared identity. The opposing view is that the best sermons include bold critiques of injustice, including those in American Christianity, society, and by implication, the injustice present in our own hearts and habits. (For lengthier summaries of each perspective, click here.) Having encountered versions of these positions in conversations and email exchanges over the years, here are some thoughts and observations.
The first mistake is mine in pitting the two against each other. A juxtaposition of a “Unity vs. Prophetic” debate misrepresents what people really want. It’s not an “either/or” choice but rather a “both/and” opportunity for great preaching. Prophetic preaching, well delivered, calls the entire church into a deeper faithfulness…and also into unity around Christ’s mission. Likewise, unity in the church comes not from an avoidance of engagement with hot topics, but when such engagement is led faithfully and grounded in truth, justice, and the gospel. In other words, what people really want is preaching that is both unifying and prophetic. (Another critical factor? It helps when such a message is delivered by a pastor the listener already knows and trusts, which can be a challenge in a venue dedicated to a preaching lineup of new and returning voices.)
The real question, then, is “How WELL does the sermon integrate – in exegesis, content, illustration, and delivery – the gospel’s unifying and prophetic voices?” When we claim to prefer one sermon over another, we often do so because we feel that a sermon has failed to integrate these voices well. A unity-focused sermon that avoids hard truths can feel shallow or complicit. A prophetic sermon that lacks a place for the listener to stand can feel alienating or combative. At this point, it’s important to state the obvious that…
Faithfully preaching the Word of God is a difficult calling. Would you like to write and preach a sermon that provokes the conscience, comforts the listener, and inspires the congregation into a deeper shared identity in Christ and into action…let’s say, forty times a year? It’s a call that few hear and even fewer find the courage to accept, to say nothing of the education, preparation, discipline, and inspiration that a life of dedicated preaching requires. I carry enormous respect for those who attempt it and have supported every sermon preached in Anderson at my invitation. No sermon is perfect but, as you consider a critique, remember that every preacher begins miles ahead in my estimation. Also…
Preaching is getting harder, not easier, according to many, including Mark Douglas, J. Erskine Love professor of Christian ethics at Columbia Seminary. Mark characterizes the challenge of leading purple congregations (those whose members reflect a mix of “red” and “blue” political perspectives): “Increasingly, mainline churches today aren’t really ‘purple.’ They’re splotches of red and splotches of blue that can be in the same space only so long as they don’t talk about politics.”
If that sounds pessimistic, Mark adds, “We should recognize that the mainline church is one of the few places left in American society where people will gather together across their political differences, see those with whom they disagree, and call them ‘brother’ and ‘sister.’”
I’d offer that those who attend our services understand and appreciate the importance of that last statement. It’s almost required that they do so, because…
Our Summer Series in Anderson Auditorium presents a context all its own. Or really, a series of contexts, with ten sermons each summer preached to ten congregations of varying size and makeup, representing varying perspectives on politics, the church, faith, and even the very existence of God. Over a full summer, at some point, our services require an open-mindedness and possibly forbearance in each and every participant. Importantly, sermons are but one important component of the worship offered each week, with liturgy, music and visual art, and with the participation of the choir, of ushers and communion servers and the congregation itself all aiming to glorify God, to be formed by Word and Sacrament, and to be renewed as Christ’s body for service in the world.
It’s a weekly tradition that can be lifegiving and deeply formative. I know this is true, because the first time I watched the news clip of Obama’s singing in Charleston, the words that hit my mind were, “I’ve seen that before.” On a summer Sunday in 1984, I sat in Anderson listening to the Reverend Dr. James Forbes urgently beckon our attentions toward justice. When he started singing a capella from our pulpit, I felt transported in a way that – even though I can’t remember a single word of that sermon – its indescribable impact remains with me still.
Not every sermon or service is going to stick with me as that one did, of course, but not every worship participant is moved by the same voice, either. So, we will continue to invite different voices, aiming for worship that orients us toward God’s unifying sovereignty and grace and toward Christ’s reconciling call for us – as individuals, as a community, and for our work in the world.
With gratitude,
Richard DuBose
President, Montreat Conference Center