One of the items on my job description is that I’m to “acquire knowledge of best practices and learning in the field,” “in order to become a broker of knowledge for preaching ministries.” Which means I have to listen to others, to learn from others. Which means a lot of things, no doubt. But one thing it means is that I need to go to conferences and seminars where others are doing interesting and innovative work in the field of preaching. So, this coming week I am going to a Summer Preaching Seminar at one of our United Methodist Seminaries. The leader of this seminar is a woman professor of homiletics of whom I am unaware. But her subject fascinates me. The instructor is Dr. Joni Sancken, and the seminar is titled the same as her recent book on the same subject, “Words that Heal: Preaching Hope to Wounded Souls.”
What better topic for preachers to consider than how to preach in the face of trauma of various kinds? Dr. Sancken has an emphasis on pastoral care through preaching, and also peacemaking and preaching. Which might be expected given that she comes from the Mennonite tradition, which has a long history of working for peace.
Here’s the added dimension to this event, the seminary where Dr. Sancken teaches is United Theological School in Dayton, OH. Dayton was the site, as you know, of the second mass shooting of last weekend. Nine people were killed in 32 seconds, according to reports I read. I’m sure it will add an air of necessity to the proceedings next week when we meet together.
It seems like there is trauma around all the time these days. Whether it our own personal trauma or the national trauma of violence and death, polarization and finger-pointing, or even a global trauma of natural disasters increasing at an alarming rate and refugees swarm the shores of other lands seeking an end to the degradations of poverty and racism and hate. The ability to find words that heal seems a prerequisite for preachers everywhere these days. And perhaps always has been. And yet can words do? How can words heal when the brokenness seems so overwhelming?
Well, maybe I’ll bring back some new insights after next week. Stayed tuned. In the meantime, what can we say in the midst of our own personal and corporate struggles? How we find words that bring if not healing then hope? I think there are lots of words that can be used to address difficult issues, but I usually want to start with this word: Presence.
Isaiah 43:1-7 But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. 2 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. 3 For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I give Egypt as your ransom, Ethiopia and Seba in exchange for you. 4 Because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you, I give people in return for you, nations in exchange for your life. 5 Do not fear, for I am with you; I will bring your offspring from the east, and from the west I will gather you; 6 I will say to the north, "Give them up," and to the south, "Do not withhold; bring my sons from far away and my daughters from the end of the earth-- 7 everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made."
Isaiah speaks a word to people who are longing. And underwater. Or walking through the rapids of loss and exile, of war and death. And the word he speaks is one of hope. It is a word of redemption. It is a word of comfort. Just what they need. But maybe not what they want.
What they want is a rescue. Take us out of here! Fix it, fix them, fix us. Make it right. That’s what we want in desperate situations. But what we get instead is Presence. I will be with you, thus says the Lord. OK, a good thing. No, a wonderful thing, but ... why don’t we get what we really want? Why don’t we get a wave of the divine hand and circumstances change? Why don’t enemies get sent packing, and good guys get sent home? Why doesn’t God just get up and do something about everything that is wrong is our world right now?
Why doesn’t it say in the forty third chapter of Isaiah that when you sign up for God’s team there won’t be any waters? Why doesn’t is tell us that following God means you won’t have to walk through fire? But it doesn’t say that, does it? No, it says, when you walk through fire! It says when you pass through the waters! When?! It is like it is inevitable. Like a safe bet. Like you’d better just count on it. Well, thanks. Thanks a lot. If God followers aren’t any safer from disaster or catastrophe, then what’s the point? If we don’t have some divine protection from harm, why bother? OK, it does say that you won’t get burned. That sounds good, until you get to the second rendition of the phrase. You won’t be consumed, meaning you won’t get burned up. But that doesn’t seem like a real blessing, does it? Where’s the promise to make it all right?
That “what’s in it for me?” question really gets under my skin. It sounds like a consumer approach to faith. I’m only interested in what I can get out of it. But once in a while, it is a question that needs asking. What do we get, Isaiah? When the chips are down, when all seems lost, when the questions outnumber the answers, what do we get?
Presence. John Wesley’s last words, it is reported, were “best of all God is with us.” Best of all, he said. Presence is the greatest gift. Presence is grace at work within us. Presence is what enables us to endure whatever the waters bring, whatever the fire burns around us. We are not alone. And not only that, but this Presence is a loving Presence. We are precious to that Presence. We are known by name. And the promise is that wherever we go, wherever this life drives us, for good or for ill.
And perhaps it is the function of the people of God to practice presence. Not simply for themselves but for those around them, for those who are hurting, those who face tragedy. We can’t always fix what’s wrong, but we can be present. We can offer grace, present kindness, express fellowship. It is our inclination to want to find the words to speak in moments of tragedy, to bring consolation. But many, if not most of our words can have the effect of trivializing the pain, overlooking the tragedy. “It’ll be all right” seems hollow in the face of 9 deaths in half a minute. Despite the words that might come to mind, perhaps we are best to fall back on the words that God uses in Isaiah, “I’m here.” It acknowledges the depth and speed of the water that rises. It recognizes the heat and the destruction of the flames. And yet it says that no matter the pain that surrounds you, you are not alone. I am here, God is here.
I’ll be interested to hear what Dr. Sancken has to say about Words that Heal. But I suspect it will include something from Isaiah 43.
Shalom,
Derek
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