The Foolishness of Preaching

 

I debated as to whether or not to post this article. Usually, my articles are written because I think I've found something worth saying, some answer to a question. But this article is more of a question than an answer and therefore it is an open question whether it is worth saying. But I have never believed that asking questions is in vain. As Aristotle almost said, if you want to get the right answers, you have to ask the right questions. The other problem with this article is that I am dealing here with a profession of which I am (for the most part) on the outside. Writing this probably borders on impertinence, but bordering is not the same as crossing a border and there is a sense in which this question is the possession of all Christians, clergy and laity and alike. 

The burden of this article is this: there is a growing question in my mind, a growing doubt and concern as to whether the most effective way to reach the lost or to edify the church is to have a group of people sit in a rectangular room listening while another man stands behind a short wooden pillar and talks for thirty-five minutes. My question is whether the act of preaching, as we know and practice it in the Holiness Church (and in Evangelical Churches of various stripes) is actually the best way to accomplish the work of God. No doubt God has often used it; no doubt many people have found the voice of God through it. But this proves very little. God spoke through a donkey once, but that doesn't mean if we want God to speak through us, we need to behave as much as possible like donkeys. Less my habit of sarcasm seems to cloud the point, let me clarify—I am not saying that preaching, as we know it, is wrong. I am saying that I am not confident that it is right.

I know what you're thinking: the Bible very clearly says that this is God's ordained means of spreading the gospel, that “it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe.” (1 Corinthians 1:21) There is a very minor point to be made here—we must not assume that just because the Bible uses the word “preaching” and we use the word “preaching” that we mean exactly the same thing. Paul was a preacher, but he probably never had a pulpit, an altar, a church building, or even, as we know it, a Bible. Of course, that does not mean we are wrong to have these things. But we must be careful not to read our modern conventions into ancient texts.

But here we should look a little more closely at 1 Corinthians 1; we see that Paul is contrasting the “foolishness of preaching” with other things, things which were NOT the ordained means evangelism or edifying. And those things are baptism (v. 17), eloquence and philosophy, (“wisdom of words,” v. 17), and miracles (v. 22). And what's interesting is that Paul did, in fact, do all these things. Paul did perform baptisms (v. 16) and saw it as being integral to Christian experience (Romans 6:3); Paul did perform miracles (Acts 16:18); and whatever the style of his preaching, in his writing there are passages which are definitely marked by “wisdom of words”--passages philosophical enough to be contemplated and discussed for hours and eloquent to a degree that is almost musical (Ephesians 1:3-14 is perhaps the most obvious example).

The point is that none of these things were wrong in themselves but they were not the appointed means of spreading the gospel. So what was it about the “foolishness of preaching” that made it special, more important than even miracles and the sacraments? I think we can safely say that it was the Word of God. For Paul, the Word of God was something both foundational and dynamic. It was the scriptures “which are able to make thee wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus.” (2 Timothy 3:15) It was by the scripture that the man of God could be “perfect, throughly furnished unto all good works.” (2 Timothy 3:17) His command to Timothy was to “preach the word.” (2 Timothy 4:2) 

But the most revealing passage is Romans 10:14-17. There Paul lays out the following ideas. In order to call on God for salvation, we have to believe in God; to believe in God we have to have heard of God; and to hear, there must be a preacher. That gives us the following diagram.

Preaching --> Hearing --> Believing --> Calling

But then look at verse 17: “So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.” That repeats the original progression (leaving off the fourth step) but with an important alteration:

The Word of God --> Hearing --> Believing

In other words, in this second form of the diagram “the word of God” replaces “preaching”--which means that the primary work of a preacher is to present the word of God to the people so that they can hear it. (And Paul also may be saying that the Word of God can sometimes do its own preaching, but that is less clear and a full analysis of Romans 10 is outside the scope of this article.) 

So when Paul says in 1 Corinthians that it is by “the foolishness of preaching” that salvation comes, we should not interpret that as meaning one specific method. Indeed, it is by no means clear that Paul himself always used one specific method in his preaching, though the Biblical details are sparse enough to leave that an open question. The essential part of preaching is hearing and understanding the Scripture.

I think we can define “preaching” in a Biblical sense as an event through which people are brought into contact with the word of God so that, through this contact, they will come to know, believe, and follow God. This was (and is) often done during a church service, but Paul preached other times besides in church services and church services include other things besides preaching. (In other words, “preaching” and “church” are not interchangeable or even fully interdependent.) And that brings me back to the question which is the burden of this article: is preaching, as we practice it in the modern Wesleyan/Holiness (and Evangelical) church really the best way to bring people into a real and vital contact with the Word of God? 

I suppose in part I am approaching the whole question backward--in that (to some degree), my starting point is the reality (on which I assume we can all agree) that there is clearly something wrong within the Holiness (and within the Evangelical) Church as it exists today—that, to put it crudely, there is something rotten in the state of Denmark. So often it seems there is a disconnect between what Christians, in theory, should believe (that is, what the Bible teaches) and how Christians actually act. It is not just that there are hypocrites in the church now as there have always been and as there are in any group. It certainly appears (to a dispassionate bystander) that even those who truly want to act as Christians often act as something else. (If you do not agree with this, you will have to accept it for the sake of argument, as I don't have room to go further into the issue here.) And if people are not, in their everyday life, calling upon God or acting as if they believed in Him, then it may be because they have not heard and if they have not heard it may be because of a problem with the preaching.

But aside from all that, there are certain quite obvious issues with preaching as we know it, quite apart from trying to blame all the problems of the modern church on preachers. And one of the main issues has to do with the distinction between preaching and teaching.

When I was young (when the skies were clear and dinosaurs roamed the earth), one was taught that there is a difference between 'preaching' and 'teaching' and that the difference is this: teaching is aimed at instructing while preaching is aimed at inciting action; that teaching addresses the intellect while preaching addresses the will—and that this difference will manifest itself in various ways, including the very tone of the address itself. Take this parallel. Suppose a father is teaching his son about driving. The two are sitting in the living room going over the driving manual and the father is explaining what various road signs mean, including specifically that the red octagon means 'stop.' Now, suppose that the son is actually behind the wheel and they are driving at a good clip down a road, approaching a very busy intersection, with no sign of slowing down, and a deal of on-coming traffic. Once again, the father is going to explain what a stop sign is. But there is a clear difference between that situation and the previous—one was aimed merely at instructing while the other is trying to cause immediate action—and it is easy to imagine that the father's tone and manner in explaining the point will be quite different in the second situation as compared to the first. And so, some argue, this is the difference between teaching and preaching--and that it is in preaching (and not teaching) that our hope lies.

I have two issues with this distinction. First, the Bible never seems to draw any distinction between preaching and teaching and often uses the terms synonymously or at least as over-lapping terms. But here I defer to people who actually know Greek. Second, I feel that in real life this distinction is impossible to maintain. Suppose a preacher is preaching about resisting temptation. It would be a bit much to imagine that every individual in the congregation is, at that moment, struggling with some temptation which they must resist (though it would be possible). It is still harder to imagine that every time someone was were struggling with a temptation there would be a preacher at hand to encourage them to resist it. Just as the father can hardly ride around with the son for the rest of his life, telling him to stop at every stop sign.

In other words, preaching cannot always be aimed at immediate action, even if it is always aimed at action. And clearly, there is something to be said for preparation. So, if someone had never heard of a stop sign and had no concept of what it was, it would be better to explain it to them before they got behind the wheel. Suppose a preacher is preaching about the Biblical guidelines for marriage and how to deal with problems in a marriage. That would no doubt be useful for some young couple struggling in their marriage. But surely it would be better for everyone involved if they had already been familiar with all that before they got married. In other words, it is best to teach the truth before it is needed as well as teaching it when it is needed. If there is any truth to this distinction between preaching and teaching, then it is like the distinction between your left foot and your right—they are quite different, but you cannot walk without using both. 

But there is something more to be said about this idea of preparation and teaching. Think of a schoolboy working his way through high school biology. Nothing could seem more distant, more abstract, more useless than dissecting pigs and learning the ins-and-outs of the body. Certainly, it would not seem that such knowledge could impact the rest of his life. But when he makes the decision whether he will or will not smoke his first cigarette, it will suddenly be very vital for him to understand exactly what a lung is and what it does. In other words, we do not always know what information may be important until the time comes when we need it. So, to move back to the subject at hand, there is nothing very spiritual, nothing very edifying, nothing very “churchy” about learning about the history of the Assyrian empire. But the story of Jonah will suddenly stop being a cute story for children and become one of the most dramatic, most intense, and perhaps most relevant books of the Old Testament if one understands who and what Nineveh was. Fifteen minutes of serious study about the historical facts about Nero makes 1 Peter 2:13-17 come alive in a much different way and may have more relevancy for our practical life in this world than we expected (or wanted). If preaching is to be in a full and final sense “practical,” then it must be content to be temporarily impractical. 

The upshot of all that is this: we cannot think of preaching as being wholly divorced from teaching; we cannot think that preaching must always be immediate and direct; and we cannot judge the success of a sermon by whether people go to an altar afterward. If preaching means bringing people into real contact with the word of God, then it must mean bringing them to a concrete and comprehensive knowledge of the word of God—not merely repeating a few favorite texts to them until they nod their head. If people can retell a few Bible stories but do not have a full and real knowledge of the Bible, then we have failed. 

And that brings me to what seems the largest problem with preaching as we know it. The fact that the congregation is entirely passive. The preacher stands up and preaches and the congregation sits and listens. They have no involvement and participation in the service. Usually, the unspoken assumption is that the song service and testimonials are the congregant's part of the service and the sermon is the preacher's part. But if the ultimate goal of preaching is to bring about a vital contact between the congregation and God's word, then the congregation cannot be merely passive.

Now, I already know what some people are going to say. There is, in theory, already an element in place which allows the congregants to participate in the sermon, and that is the convention (mostly forgotten) of having them say “amen” and other phrases at random points throughout the sermon. And I suppose there is some good in this—at least, it keeps people from falling asleep. But it such a one-sided affair that it cannot really solve anything and the fact that some preachers (mostly of a past generation) were so adamant on insisting on it seems a little unfair. What I mean by calling it 'one-sided' is this: 'amen' means “sure... so be it, truth.” (Strong's Hebrew Concordance, #0543) When a congregant says “amen” during a sermon, they are stating that they agree with what is being said. Which is nice, but what if they don't agree? Or what if they don't understand? Being able, even being exhorted, to express agreement and never disagreement or simply confusion is, if nothing else, one-sided and hardly seems to bring any substantial new additions to the convention of preaching.

Indeed, it is rather an odd situation. One of Lewis Carroll's characters complains about preachers: “I must say that our preachers enjoy an enormous privilege--which they ill deserve, and which they misuse terribly. We put our man into a pulpit, and we virtually tell him 'Now, you may stand there and talk to us for half-an-hour.  We won't interrupt you by so much as a word!  You shall have it all your own way!' And what does he give us in return?  Shallow twaddle, that, if it were addressed to you over a dinner-table, you would think 'Does the man take me for a fool?'" (Sylvie and Bruno, Chapter 19) I do not say things in our movement are as bad as that, but it is an odd situation that a preacher can say anything to us and we cannot say anything to him; still odder when sometimes (though this is something of a thing of the past) when preachers would spend their time criticizing and generally lambasting the congregation or individual members (past or present). If we believed in complete and absolute submission to and respect for authority, it would be one thing. But we don't, which gives rise to the really bizarre situation we have—in which the preacher can get up and say anything he wants to the congregation, and then the congregation goes home and says anything they want about the preacher. The preacher can roast the congregation without being answered and the congregation goes out and roasts the preacher without being answered. 

W. S. Gilbert said mockingly about duels that “this barbarous transaction/Is described as 'satisfaction.'” And I say that this relation between preacher and congregation is perhaps less barbarous than a duel but it has much less right to be called a satisfaction. Duels at least are more honorable and more practical. They are more honorable since each man has an equal chance of shooting the other—instead of each taking turns shooting the other in the back—and more practical because something actually happens; a duel ends with somebody being dead which, while not exactly desirable, is anyway perfectly practical. Obviously, all this is an oversimplification of both things. Not all congregations talk behind their preacher's back and not all preachers make use of their sermons to attack their congregation. Not all duels end in death and some even end in reconciliation. But that doesn't change the final point, that there is something ultimately futile about this relationship, as there is something ultimately futile about dueling. Neither one really can be called satisfactory.

I do not want to sound flippant.  As someone who has preached, I would find it very disconcerting if people answered back or asked questions during a sermon. But I've also taught Sunday School, and in that context, people are allowed to talk. And one thing I've learned is sometimes people have questions or misunderstandings about what the teacher says. There are occasions where I've had to reshape an entire lesson because I realized from listening to people that they had completely missed some obvious point. And I have always been a member of a congregation and have listened to preachers—and on occasions, I have heard a preacher say something one week that went exactly opposite to something they said the week before, which suggests that I had probably misunderstood one of their statements.

Now, it is possible that the miscommunications in my teaching and listening are due to my own innate stupidity. I am fully aware of my own limitations. But my vanity will not allow me to believe that I am the stupidest person ever to be in a congregation and so I think it is very likely that it not uncommon for people to misunderstand or simply not understand what it is the preacher is saying. And since they are not allowed to ask the preacher questions or express their disagreement, it becomes impossible for that misunderstanding ever to be cleared up. And if there can be no meaningful dialog between congregation and preacher, it is not surprising that little meaningful learning occurs as well. And once it has been established that learning is probably not going to occur, you can hardly blame the congregation for sinking into mere passivity. (Of course, it is always possible for a congregant to ask questions to the preacher after the service and most preachers would probably be thrilled if they did, but this practice is certainly not actively encouraged.) 

And that is why I wasn't sure whether I should write this article or not. Because I have come around to the end and I do not have any sort of answer for my question. It is possible that we could blame the entire thing on the spiritual or philosophical problems of our congregation but then the question comes around—how will we improve their spiritual state or philosophy? We cannot send them all to Bible College or force them all to read my blog. And if preaching is not being effective, then what would be? During the worst of the lockdown when many churches were being converted to live streams, it occurred to me that preachers might start using social media as a way to become involved in real dialog with the congregation—but anyone who knows anything about social media realizes why this is probably not the best option. I don't think it is an exaggeration to say that social media often brings out the worst in people. Perhaps the solution would be through some kind of “small-group meeting,” a church within the church where small groups meet for more “serious” Bible study. (In the best sense, an 'old-fashioned' solution since it is largely a return to the ideal of Wesley.) Perhaps we could do something to turn the Adult Sunday School class from a mere distraction for the adults while the children are having their Sunday School and into a real way of bringing people into contact with God's word. I remember reading somebody while I was in college who thought that Sunday School (or maybe it was preaching itself) should be run more like a real school, with assigned reading and homework. But one can hardly imagine a modern American congregation cooperating with such a scheme nor (as a Sunday School teacher) am I especially enthusiastic for it myself.

I do not know the answer to my question. Maybe in even believing that there is any problem I am writing under the influence of pessimism. (Remaining the only optimist living in the state of Ohio continues to be a real struggle.) I only know this: if preaching becomes something other than a means of bringing people into contact with the word of God; if we allow the preaching ministry to serve convention, convenience, being “old-fashioned,” or the preacher himself rather than serving scripture, then, in the end, the “foolishness of preaching” will become a reality in a much different sense than that intended by the apostle.