Eight points for a great sermon

Before I list my recipe for a great sermon, I offer some context. I’m self-conscious about my social standing. I just bought a second house, a rental property in a gentrifying neighbourhood close to the university.

This puts me in the categories of “landlord” and “property owner.” Which is awkward, because I tend to speak out against the evils of capitalism. Which, I guess, puts me in the category of “hypocrite.”

I feel trapped. On the one hand, I want to move down the socio-economic scale, to live more simply so that all may simply live. On the other hand, I also want the security that my wealth affords. I know that my people—rich, white, property-owning Christians—need to do something concrete to alleviate suffering in the world, but I don’t know what it is. I don’t have the courage for anything radical.

It is a sacrilege to say I’m in bondage. When Christian Peacemaker Teams reports on the plight of displaced or harassed Palestinians, and Amnesty International gives updates on detainees on a hunger strike in Guantanamo Bay, it’s inappropriate to say those of us ensnared in the spoils of a material culture are in bondage.

Yet I still feel numb and unable to act on my conscience. Another example of my confliction: I think cars are a defining symbol of our destructive age, and yet I want—I need!—to get a better one than we have, since we need it to renovate our second property. Woe to the rich!

Numb North American Christians need a word of liberation, a sermon that inspires us to become vessels of greater peace and justice.

At Geez magazine, where I work as an editor, we invited reader submissions for another collection of our “Thirty sermons you’d never hear in church.” I came up with a list of eight ingredients for a radical sermon. In this case, “radical” means that the congregation is connected with, and listens to, those who struggle, and offers a word of resistance. Here are the eight points with brief commentary:

1. A sermon is a word that speaks to our bondage. I think the inactivity of the middle class maintains a system of exploitation. So my numbness, as mentioned above, serves the interests of those in power.
2. It stems from the yearning of a people who struggle. We want to be on the side of justice, compassion and generosity, but don’t know what more we can do.
3. It brings hope by acknowledging despair. The sermon can name our situation and thereby assure us we are not alone.
4. It is inspiration for action and consolation for those who fail. We are asked to take steps, given the freedom to go astray, and return.
5. It provides avenues of liberation for those who seek the way of love. As we open our hearts, we gain courage to do difficult things.
6. It embraces meaningful suffering that subverts illegitimate power. Our kindness exposes that which is harsh among us.
7. It depicts a quest for salvation not bound by religion. A specific word of love, such as the word spoken by Jesus in his Sermon on the Mount, has universal appeal for those on the margins and their allies.
8. It illuminates a path of peace that finds kinship with all that lives. The vision is grand. It includes all creation.

For traditional preachers—those who think they bring a word from God to the people—this list is impossible. But “radical” preachers can move on this agenda. They can be problem-posers, facilitators for dialogue with oppressed groups, reporters of power imbalances, and reminders of the grace available to those who feel their bondage is inappropriate.

Aiden Enns is editor of Geez magazine. He is a member of Hope Mennonite Church, Winnipeg, and can be reached at aiden@geezmagazine.org.