Saturday 19 May 2018

Why was Bishop Curry's sermon so effective? What could we learn?

This is an immediate response to the brilliant sermon by Bishop Michael Curry preached today at the Royal wedding between Harry and Meghan, Saturday 19 May, 2018.

Quick note: in making observations about this sermon I am *not* suggesting all preachers should imitate Bishop Curry. This would be catastrophic - but I do think he uses some techniques and methods that ensure his message is engaging.

In no particular order:

He engages the congregation: he asks them how they travelled to the ceremony, he gets them to focus on the couple, he encourages people to recall falling in love for themselves.

More than that, he engages their imagination. He instructs people to imagine what the world might be like if we were ruled by love - and extends this to engage people's empathy when referring to hunger and poverty. When he asks us to imagine the earth as a sanctuary he is helping us dream a little. This is a powerful tool - to engage people's imagination!

Of course, in imagining a better world he was required to admit the world's failings. Bishop Curry didn't shy away from the need for justice in the world. It is my contention that when we preach there has to be a focus on the fruit - 'what impact would it have if we take seriously this or that message?' He didn't simply say, "isn't love nice!" but asked us to rise to the challenge. How might we as preachers provide a note of application, of challenge, even at a wedding.

Bishop Curry exhibits unapologetic confidence that his belief in Jesus and God is a) real and b) exciting. This confidence and passion creates that strange thing called 'authority.' Bishop Curry has no real 'power' to speak into anyone's life. He's a peddler of dangerous myths to some. But when preachers take their faith seriously and speak about it with confidence, I believe something mysteriously grace-filled happens in that moment and a person "demands" our attention. Let us not forget that we have these moments given to us, at funerals and weddings, we too can speak with confidence, with comfort, with challenge.

Naturally (as I observed), passion induces some people to laughter. Though, he didn't appear to care what people thought. It was just as fascinating watching the vsrious responses across the congregation. The beaming choristers in one shot, a mouth slightly agape, the (handsome) smile of David Beckham at the mention of family and a glance to his right, the fixed gaze of others on Bishop Curry, and yes, the smiles of embarassed amusement by others...(that's how I read it). And we shouldn't be surprised. This was not a sermon of erudition and deep philosophy (although that's not really true - we had MLK, Telhard de Chardin, and Jesus). Rather this passionate homily came from the heart. There was, as a result, something vaguely foolish about Bishop Curry. Not that he would have cared - and this sense of unguardedness was brilliant. Doubtless some will think him uncouth, lacking decorum, of not being suitably 'reverent.' What was evident was his captivitiy to the message and the author of that message. And it was certainly not about him. When we worry about what people will think of us when making choices in preaching I think we forfeit something...

Not that all the laughter was mocking, a good deal of it (in fact, most of it) was a result of a good healthy dose of humour on Bishop Curry's part. Some of us descend into clownish behaviour, while others believe it undignified to deign to use humour. My sense is that, just like Jesus, there was a balanced, helpful and engaging use of humour.

This humour and confidence (not least in the strength of his voice), were also allied to superb body language. He'd clearly committed much of the message to memory (though I need to stress that I am currently a STRONG advocate of scripted sermons to aid clarity and focus).This freedom from reading, meant that Bishop Curry was physical, not least in the way he constantly turned around to ensure he could look at everyone - even the chap behind him! Brilliant. Public speakers must do all they can to lift their eyes to the back row, to the sides, to the choir behind...try and look at people. I am sure Jesus would have looked in people's eyes. Not that an appearance of freewheeling implies either no preparation or no script: quite the contrrary I expect. This was a well thought through sermon.

Finally, the sermon depended on a strong sense of image. He latched on two words: LOVE and FIRE. This was a wedding sermon and those of us who have the privilege of preaching at a wedding should be inspired by Bishop Curry. Yes there were rhetorical flourishes (did you notice his alliterative opening prayer?), public speaking techniques, but a sermon must still be reduced to the words spoken. Bishop Curry was not ambiguous about his theme - Love and Fire. I so enjoyed the way he spoke of Jesus setting the challenge of the two commandments - the way he spoke of loving God and loving neighbour. Didn't it grip your heart? Isn't that ultimately what a good sermon does? 

It would be easy for us to regard this sermon as a victory for the church, for Bishop Curry, for preaching in general - but that, of course, would miss the point. The strength of this sermon was it's message: we were made by God, who is love, and if we are his children we should love our brothers and sisters, and love God - that is what makes life work, what might life pleasant and rewarding for all.


What do you think? Did this sermon hit the mark, or was it a lot of hot air?


Friday 16 February 2018

Lent through Joel 1: First things first, Christian, its all about the heart, all of it.

Yesterday (yes, I know...typical tardiness) was Ash Wednesday. Rather surprisingly, I was asked to preach at the Ashing service.

Well actually, I was asked to offer a short reflection.

So I really shouldn't have rolled my sleeves up (metaphorically) to do some actual investigation of the text. I chose to preach on Joel 2:1-2, 12-17.

As I lay in bed this morning, contemplating the rest of Lent, I was struck that there really was so much I had wanted to say, but couldn't even hint at, let alone say.

So I've decided to try and extend my reflection on Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 across the forty days of Lent. Each day I will explore, briefly, another aspect of this reading and what it might say to us as we journey through Lent.

So here goes...ready?

God doesn't want part of your heart, he wants it all. You are to be wholehearted.

As I lay awake in bed on Tuesday evening, having drafted my sermon, in those few moments before I drift off to sleep, and that's genuinely about a minute normally, I felt a prompt deep within me that I had "missed the point."

Sure, I'd noticed that God speaks directly, in the first person, only in verse 12 of Joel 2.

"Even now, return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning."

Now as it was Ash Wednesday two things had preoccupied me: the idea of a return, and the combination of prayer-aids (fasting/weeping/mourning). But it was as if God told me to re-read the sentence. I was planning on saying, "God wants your heart."

But that's not what it says - unfortunately.

That would have made the call very fitting for Valentine's Day. When so much money is spent by couples on gifts and meals, while constantly holding back some of their heart, awaiting a better option, another heart to pursue. (Not all I appreciate!)

It's easy to give some of your heart. To be part time, to offer some commitment.

But God is patiently asking for nothing less than all our hearts.

And that is why I need Lent.

There are parts of my heart I don't want to give God, sins I cherish and cling to, attitudes of self-righteousness that allow me to justify my moods and tempers. I even use some religious habits to protect me from really giving myself to God.

Lent then is the season of the year where we step into a wilderness, we try to wean ourselves off those things that seek to control or dominate. We acknowledge the things that have a piece of our heart.

I think Joel offers some insights into how we might do this. Perhaps you'll accompany me as we work through this call to return to God with all our hearts.