Our nation's capital is the venue for this year's Festival of Homiletics. So of course the theme would be "Preaching and Politics." It's a treacherous road to walk, full of pitfalls and quagmires on every side. And yet, how can we not? Politics - not the partisan muddle that we find in this place all too often, but the ordering of the polis - the people and how their lives are lived out day by day - is the subject of preaching. It's about connecting and opening eyes and revealing the relevance of Word and life. Nothing is more political than the gospel. Nothing is more needed in a world of bad politics than preaching that reveals truth and considers grace.
At least that's how I understand it. I'll let you know what I hear this week. We began tonight in the National Cathedral. We were welcomed by the Dean of the Cathedral and the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, welcomed to "your cathedral" they said. The nation's church. A beautiful place, still recovering from the earthquake of 2011.
It is awe inspiring. The evening's events began with Evensong. The choir was made up of young women from the Cathedral School and they sang like angels, filling the large Gothic nave with voices raised in praise to our God. The sound reverberated, giving the impression that heaven was echoing the praise, adding to, enhancing what we mere mortals could provide.
There is no sermon in Evensong, just prayers and scripture and singing, choral and congregational. Perhaps an odd beginning to a preaching conference, but appropriate nonetheless. All of us preachers need to be quiet before we speak. We need to listen, we need to be lifted, we need to be reminded that the church doesn't rise and fall on our words, but on the Word of God. So we listened. And we sang. And a little bit of the Spirit crept back into our souls. Well, mine anyway.
Then we began worship as a Festival. Another procession, this time no choir, but lots of celebrants, and preachers and liturgists. And three Cathedral school youth, carrying the candles of the light of the Spirit and the cross that led the procession. I sat on the aisle and saw them pass. Their faces were serious, almost grim. Perhaps drilled in the proper respect to the august occasion. Perhaps burdened by the weight of the objects they carried, candles and holders taller than that little girls carrying them, and a processional cross that seemed to weigh more than the slightly taller young man who carried it confidently. Or perhaps they had a sense of the need of the world that had gathered there that evening. 1700 preachers from many mainline denominations across the country and the world, had gathered to listen, to learn, to be inspired, transformed, healed perhaps. There were more casts that I remembered seeing in previous years. Crutches and canes, walkers and wheelchairs; we are the wounded preachers, it seems. Some of our wounds weren't so visible. But deep hurts, tender hearts bruised by the rough and tumble of leading the church, vocations stretched to their limit and even beyond; all in need of healing. All in need of encouragement. All needing convinced that we can climb into that pulpit, the one we left behind to come here, one more time.
The preacher was Karoline Lewis, Associate Professor of Biblical Preaching and Chair of Homiletics at Luther Seminary in Minneapolis, and one of the sponsors of the event. Maybe that's how you get to go first, run the thing! She preached on "The Politics of Pneuma." The Spirit is political, she argued, no sense trying to keep her out. The Spirit goes where it wills and we would do well to follow, to listen, to speak where the Spirit speaks. A risky thing, letting the Spirit lead us. Who knows where we might end up? Who knows who we might end up including? Who knows what we might become?
Dr Lewis was accompanied by a Gospel trio. Striking black women who sang with power and presence, sang with the Spirit. I love African American gospel singing. They sang some familiar songs, and some I didn't know. Accompanied by the powerful gospel piano and the voice from the bench, they filled the room with praise and challenge. But it sounded different in that vast space. It didn't lilt like the Cathedral Choir at Evensong, didn't float in the spaces breathlessly. Instead it rang, like a bell, bouncing off the stone, ringing in our ears. It had an edge to it, a challenge. These angels were there to trouble the waters, not soothe them.
We concluded with Communion. And once again I was reminded that clergy are better at giving instructions than following them. It was chaotic, to say the least. It required a little patience for all to be readied for a crowd this size. And patience was in short supply. Lines formed and then unformed, some went one way then rushed back the other way, stood and then sat and then stood again, as if waiting for a bus coming through the traffic to bring them home. I sighed and shook my head, wondering why we have such trouble sitting and waiting. Why we want to press into the flow and not let it come to us. But the elements waited, were made ready and all were eventually served. There was grace enough for all.
The evening concluded with a lecture from Richard Rohr, Franciscan Priest and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in New Mexico. And a favorite of some in my congregation at Southport. He spoke about authority in the grand Episcopal Cathedral in the city of political power for the nation. But he spoke humbly and with humor and gentleness. He asked us to reconsider our considerations. He asked us to think again about what we stand on. What we say we stand on and what we actually stand on. He pointed out in the politically confused point in history that saying you stand on the Bible as your foundation doesn't actually mean you've ever read it.
Father Rohr pointed out that Jesus went out of his way to avoid binary thinking. Binary thinking - this or that, right or wrong, black or white. Every time Jesus was cornered and forced to give an answer is it this or is it that, He always found another thing. Or a way of saying this and that, or neither. Binary thinking, says Rohr, is the limitation of grace. He encouraged more contemplative thinking.
Then he challenged us Wesleyans. Saying he had great respect for Wesley, considered him something of a mystic. But chose to ride a three wheeled tricycle instead of a four sided quadrilateral. What he wanted to leave out was reason. Reason is what leads to binary thinking. He would rather lead with experience. It's what we all do anyway, he claims. We say we're based on our thinking and deciding, when in fact we go with our experience. With what we live, what we feel, what we take up in our being. Let our experience lead the way, but be guided and shaped by scripture and tradition. That should keep us on track.
I find myself leaning into this way of thinking. And want to know more about a center of action and contemplation - that sounds fascinating to me. But I need to think about it some more. Need to reason? Maybe. Or need to live it for a while. Dwell on it. Grow with it.
Lots more to come over the next four days. I am anxious to experience more.
God's Shalom,
Derek
#Homiletics2018
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