Opening the Word: The preaching we need vs. the preaching we want

Perhaps preaching these days isn’t always good (and occasionally downright awful) not simply due to the poor abilities of preachers. Perhaps it’s also because we, the listeners, don’t really want good preaching. Sometimes, I wonder.

Fred Craddock, the great Protestant preacher, once said, “One must not forget that there are two kinds of preaching difficult to hear: poor preaching and good preaching.” Martin Luther King Jr. talked about the challenge of real preaching and the temptation of bad preaching. The temptation for the preacher, of course, is praise, admiration and the absence of conflict. Many clergy are paralyzed merely by the thought of conflict; and so, in their preaching, King said, they become mere entertainers, giving the congregation — now turned audience — only what they want to be given. But that’s not preaching, King was clear, for “any preacher who allows members to tell him what to preach isn’t much of a preacher,” he said.

Of course, it’s not always been this way. The history of Christian preaching is both light and shadow, fire and dryness, authenticity and sham. Recall, for instance, the Cappadocians of the fourth century. That was genuine preaching. To his congregation, St. Basil the Great suggested that the person who willfully walked by a beggar or person in need was as good as a murderer. He invited his listeners to contemplate the final judgment and eternal punishment. “Do not dismiss me,” he said, “as if I am like a mother nurse, frightening you with some imaginative monster. … These are no fables.” This was not popular preaching; it wasn’t preaching people wanted. It was real preaching. Which, of course, is the only genuine measure of good preaching: that it’s real.

It’s preaching we hear from Jesus in this Sunday’s Gospel (Lk 6:17, 20-26). Jesus, up on the mountain, has just called the Twelve. Down on the plain, surrounded by crowds of people, the Twelve and other followers, Jesus speaks directly to his disciples. “Blessed are you,” he says. “Woe to you,” he says. The work of the kingdom of God is to be their work; they are to be agents of all that Jesus has preached, all he inaugurates. Either the disciples are to be part of that mission — part of the great reversal of values Mary sang about (Lk 1:46-55) and Jesus preached (Lk 4:16-20) — or they will not be part of it. Either they will see the difference between the bitter now and the better future, staying faithful in hope amidst ridicule, hatred and suffering, or they won’t. They will be either blessed or full of woe, but measured by eternity, by God’s happiness and God’s truth. The choice is theirs — it’s up to you — whether they really want to be disciples. The question is stark because the preaching is real. And that’s because it forces us to think about the authenticity of our discipleship.

So, this is the question: Will you let Jesus talk to you this way? Will you let Jesus preach not what you want him to preach but what he will preach? Will you let him speak to you directly, bluntly? And what about the Church? Can the Church not preach to you any unwelcome truths? What about your pastor? What about your friend? As Paul asked the Galatians, “have I become your enemy by telling you the truth?” (Gal 4:16). These are good questions to ask ourselves, nearing Lent as we are. Do we really want good preaching? Are we ready for it? I don’t know if we are, actually — looking at myself, looking around. But it’s an important question, happiness and woe hanging in the balance.

Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books.