A lot of my time as a pastor is devoted to homiletics, to the art of preaching. Most week's I devote many hours to preparing my sermon. Rarely does it last more than twenty minutes or go longer than three pages. It is a relatively speaking short presentation, based on one of the scripture texts assigned for the day. Yesterday, for instance, I worked with the text from I Peter that speaks of the rejected building block becoming a the head of the cornerstone. It's one of my favorite passages in the Bible, and it gave me an opportunity to talk about one of our former foster children, who is graduating from high school next month. Formerly rejected, he has indeed been repurposed.
People tell me all the time that the most important thing for them in a sermon is being able to relate to what is being said. What do these ancient words mean for me--why should I care what somebody wrote millennia ago? It would be easier, I guess, if I were a fundamentalist. I could simply say, "Well, these words are God's words--don't you think we should pay attention to what God has to say?"
But I'm not a fundamentalist. I have an extremely nuanced understanding of the scripture. I believe the Bible to be the Word of God, but not the words of God. I believe that what is reflected in its pages is how a certain group of folks experienced the holy in their midst (or many times, what they perceived to be the absence of the holy!) So any attempt to make the scriptures come alive for a contemporary listener necessarily includes exploring the original context.
Frankly, I love the challenge. And I love being a preacher. Since moving to the South, where we pastors are often called "preacher" I've found myself using the term self-referentially much more frequently. But I'm rambling. So let me bring this to a close--and unlike some peers, when I say that, I mean it.
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