I hear often about what a "great" job I did preaching. Knowing myself as well as I do, I'm always skeptical. Good preaching,
I think, is hard to be judged in the short term. You probably won't
know it when you've heard it. Instead, you know good preaching when you
see it Monday morning. What gets said on Sunday are just the seeds.
The growth that comes in God's kingdom, that's when you know if it took hold and accomplished anything to call as good.
In
truth, I've sat down after preaching and wondered often whether I owe
God an apology for having wasted his time or my breath. So, I thought
it might help parishioners to see a few of the rules I've developed and
shared over the years with those who've learnt preaching with and from
me. Also, reminders like this can't hurt preachers, either.
1.
Don't assume you always speak for God. It takes lots of humility to
stand and preach. And if you're cocky enough to be certain you've got
the message from God right every time, you're probably doing it wrong.
2.
Don't assume that the sermon is simply telling people how to improve
life. Preaching is nothing more -- nor less! -- than Jesus walking in
your midst (Bonhoeffer, Worldly Preaching). That will mean change, sure, but not always "improvement".
3.
Don't assume you and your congregation get to be the good guys in the
story all the time. Sometimes -- oftentimes? -- we're the baddies.
Hermeneutics matters (Abraham Kuruvilla, Priviledge the Text!).
4.
If you get done preaching and haven't mentioned "the kingdom of God"
the way Jesus did, you're probably doing it wrong (NT Wright, Surprised by Hope).
5.
If the sermon has anything to do with your kind ending up in heaven
when you die, you're probably doing it wrong. That's great Plato, but
lousy Paul. (Wright again.)
6. If Jesus
sounds more like your first grade teacher giving homework orders, and
less like a comedian cracking jokes, you're probably doing it wrong. If
Jesus sounds like the fiery brimstone preachers of old, who dispense so
much judgment and gloom, without first proclaiming hope and peace and
wholeness, you're probably doing it wrong. (Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Comedy, Tragedy and Fairy Tale.)
7.
If you feel smug and particularly confident after preaching, you're
probably doing it wrong. Again, humility belongs in preaching -- from
start to finish. See #1 and Gregory the Great's Pastoral Rule -- which I think every pastor should re-read once a year.
(As
an aside, our language about being "proud" of someone after they've
completed a job well, is all off. Pride isn't a good character trait in
the Bible. I'm less proud than I am humbled. So I say, "I'm humbled
by your ..." Christians would do well to reclaim this language. Which
is to say, language really matters theologically. What we say shapes
who we are.)
8. If your sermon leaves little room for something to look forward to, someone to hope in, you're probably doing it wrong. Christian hope is the beginning of Christian proclamation, not its end. If it's not the beginning, it's not Christian (Jurgen Moltmann's Theology of Hope).
9. Go back and repeat #3. Preachers forget this too often. Again: Your pastoral hermeneutic matters.
10. Finally,
if you've preached a lousy sermon, just remember: As long as the
scripture was read aloud before you started, it won't be a total loss.
I'm super serious about #10. In fact, it's why I insist on reading all the lessons each Sunday from the Lectionary.
I
don't trust my scripture selection proclivities enough to be sure the
Church ever hears "too much Scripture" (an accusation I recently heard
because I wanted to read all four appointed Scriptures for the day).
This makes me sound "free church" and Anabaptist, I think, but I have
too deep a reverence for Scripture's voice to leave off with just one
text. The more the people hear, the better. One of my vows at
ordination included the exhortation to "preach the whole counsel of God". I intend to keep that vow.
So, yeah, I'm super serious about that last point. It's
often struck me how even after the most soul-crushing exposition of a
particular scripture (my own included), people go away afterwards
thinking about what was read before the
sermon. It's a testament to the extraordinary power of Jesus' teaching
that it cannot be defeated even by its most dedicated expositors.
This
is also the best argument for feasting at God's table every Sunday that
I know. And I learnt it from my Restorationist friends. Whatever the
nonsense I might preach, we've at least clearly heard, seen and
participated in the Gospel once before we leave.
Being
liturgical and sacramental is a pastoral safe-guard against bad
preaching. Which is to say, being liturgical and sacramental is
intended to promote good preaching, not supplant it. Preachers
should care about the worship context of our preaching; if you're
privileging preaching above everything else, you're probably doing it
wrong (Richard Lischer, A Theology of Preaching).