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Contemporary Functions of Preaching

Having briefly surveyed the historical phenomenon of preaching in Chapter 1, in this chapter we will outline four contemporary contexts which condition the event of preaching and within which it fulfils a distinct function today.

First, we will consider shared worship, which has been the dominant context for preaching over two millennia. Next we turn to contemporary culture. The Church is placed in the world as a missionary body,[1] and that means that preaching, while inevitably influenced by intellectual and social currents, can also exercise influence on the cultures in which it is set, and the individuals and groupings which inhabit them. The third context is that of theology. Preaching has sometimes been the spearhead of the Church’s continuing theological conversations and debates about the meaning of God’s revelation in Christ for our lives and the world. Although the study of theology now extends more widely than the Church and is carried forward in a variety of arenas of discourse, it undoubtedly remains true that for many Christians, the theology they have learned has come mainly or solely through preaching. There is an obvious link here to the fourth context, that of pastoral care. The Church and its pastors exercise such care for a wide range of people who may or may not be identified as Christian. An aspect of this care is the Christian education involved in both evangelism and Christian nurture: education understood in the fullest sense as not just an intellectual process but a transformational one, enabling people to be renewed not only in their thinking but in their living, according to Christ’s pattern (cf. Rom. 12.1–2). And in this process preaching continues to play a pivotal, yet again contested, role.

Shared worship

The context of worship exercises a considerable influence upon the preaching that takes place within it, and preaching, conversely, fulfils a distinct function when it is part of a service of worship. We will discuss this mutual influence first in general terms, and then with reference to the diversity of kinds of worship practised in today’s Church.[2]

The effect of worship on preaching is profound, though often unnoticed. The worshipping context reminds speaker and hearers that preaching is meant to glorify God before it is meant to edify people – and that its purpose is certainly not to boost the ego of the preacher. Prayer, song, Bible reading, sacrament and silence all have a part to play in the Godward focus of the gathering, and together contribute to an atmosphere which becomes ‘second nature’ to the regular worshipper, including the preacher. Thus all are reminded that the sermon, like the rest of the service, is not a time for mere information, entertainment or displays of skill, but for drawing near to God.

Conversely, preaching can effectively function as an enabler of worship. This is because it can bring the recollection of God’s past revelation in the biblical story together with the reality of the present, in which God is still to be discerned. It can do so in a focused way which claims the attention of the minds, hearts and consciences of the worshippers. Putting it simply, it can take the praises that we have sung and the Scriptures we have heard, and connect them with the world for which we intercede and the longings we express in the silence. Praise of God and reading of Scripture, if left on their own, may risk leaving us in ‘the language of Zion’, the great formulations of theology and the story of the past. Intercession for the world and silence before God bring us very much into the present, yet if left on their own may cut us loose from the depth of our tradition and the anchor of God’s own promises. Preaching negotiates a way between past and present, between the sure foundation of Christ and the uncertain waters of the contemporary world, between the safety of an eternal, faithful God and the disturbing dynamism of a living, speaking God.

It does this by announcing a gospel that concerns both past and future, and interprets the present as a time of grace in the midst of judgement.[3] It may thus fundamentally shape the consciousness of the worshipper, who needs constant reminders of the ‘grace in which we stand’ (Rom. 5.2),[4] and for whom that grace is the only basis for self-offering to God (Rom. 12.1–2). Many churches believe that it does this in a creative partnership with the sacrament of Holy Communion. The word of grace, spoken and heard in the sermon, is enacted and received at the Lord’s Table.

These mutual connections between preaching and worship are made in a multitude of ways, of which those gathered – both preacher and congregation – probably remain largely unconscious most of the time. A service is a network of signs which interact with each other and with the participants in dynamic complexity. Words of songs may echo, or sometimes question, words of sermons. Bible readings stand alongside sermons not simply as their jumping-off point, but as the sounding-board against which the preacher’s words vibrate. Preaching may shed new light on the meaning of the sacraments and enable worshippers to participate at greater depth. The compassion evoked by a preacher may find expression in the outpouring of prayer led by an intercessor. Thus we might continue.

The existence of different traditions of worship lends yet more complexity to the picture, for sermon will relate to service differently depending on whether one is in a Methodist, Catholic, Pentecostal church or any other. The sacramental ethos of churches in the Catholic tradition yields a different atmosphere for preaching from the strongly word-centred approach of traditional Protestantism and the strongly experience-centred approach of the Pentecostal and charismatic branches of the family.

To give one example: where, in the service, does the sermon come? Its location says much about the implied meaning of the whole gathering, and therefore of the preaching within it. In Protestantism it is regularly at the climax of the service, occupying the longest single section. In Pentecostal and charismatic churches the situation is often similar to this, with the important difference that the sermon is followed by a time where response of one kind or another is specifically encouraged. In sacramental traditions the sermon is usually at the centre of the Eucharist, while the actual climax of the service is the distribution of bread and wine towards the end. Many local variations and permutations complicate the picture. We cannot ignore the existence of such variables in seeking guidance about if, what and how to preach, because the way a sermon is conceived, spoken and heard is inextricably entangled with them.

Contemporary culture

‘Culture’ is the network of customs, practices, preferences, beliefs and languages which makes up the fabric of our daily life. Just as worship and preaching influence each other in many subtle ways of which we are often unconscious, so it is with culture and preaching. Before we make any conscious decisions about whether or what or how to preach, we are affected by culture; and so, before they begin listening to any sermon, are our hearers. But preaching in turn can function as an influence within and upon the cultures around it.

This reality is made more complex by the fact that most Western societies today are ‘multicultural’. Whatever the majority of people think about this, or how it should be handled, a great variety of different cultures jostle alongside each other. Moreover, as immigrants become naturalized, cultures start to blend in confusing but enriching ways. Shared Christian faith adds a dimension to this picture but it does not contradict it. All of us have received faith embedded in cultural clothing (translations of the Bible, church customs, habits seen as ‘normative’, whether weekly Communion or daily ‘quiet time’ and so on). As human beings, we have no other means of receiving it, or of passing it on. Churches themselves become ‘subcultures’, or groups of subcultures, and it is helpful to raise to consciousness those practices, forms of speech, rituals and so on which identify them as such. This is not for the purpose of trying to escape from being a subculture, which is impossible. It is simply so that we can take stock of how we behave, as the basis for bringing our common life under the light of God’s direction.

An important mediator of that direction can be preaching. Through preaching, the gospel can influence culture, if the subcultures of particular churches themselves remain open to the gospel. The preacher himself or herself is in an interesting position, in that he or she may be immersed in the church’s subculture, or may be (or may be perceived as) at least partly an ‘outsider’ to it. Over time, he or she may shift along this spectrum, one way or the other. Awareness of one’s cultural location as a preacher enables sensitivity to the ways in which one’s own embodiment of the gospel may be peculiar to a particular culture and the ways in which it transcends such particularity.

As we saw in Chapter 1, the transformation of culture has been seen as one of the classic aims of Christian mission.[5] Preaching’s role in such transformation is well-documented, although as preaching is a fallible cultural act itself, it has produced not only positive transformation but less benign effects as well.[6] Moreover, we should not think of such transformation of cultures as something set apart from the transformation of individuals within them. As individuals are persuaded, whether through preaching or any other means, of the transforming truth and power of the gospel, they will start to exercise a transforming influence on the culture(s) in which they are embedded. Conversely, cultures influenced by the gospel may be hospitable settings for its transforming influence on individuals.[7] I am therefore treating preaching’s function in transforming culture as its ‘evangelistic’ function in the widest sense.

It is important to distinguish two levels at which this function is fulfilled. First, it is fulfilled by means of the preacher’s theological appropriation of God’s revelation in order to interpret the present and mediate God’s wisdom for life within it. That is, the content of preaching can be transformative of people’s thought-world and therefore their lives. Insofar as the preacher’s theology reflects contemporary fashions more than the historic revelation, this transformation will be lessened or eliminated. I consider this theological function of preaching in the next section.

Second, preaching can fulfil a transformative function with respect to culture by means of its form. This too can have a surprising effect. But here, too, if preaching imitates too closely either the communication style of a previous generation or that of today, its transformative potential will be reduced. The question is not whether our preaching ‘looks’ or ‘sounds’ strange in a culture accustomed to many other media, but whether that strangeness is a vehicle of transformation or a mere eccentric relic.

Roger Standing has given an excellent concise and up-to-date overview of cultural characteristics of contemporary British society, together with reflections on how these characteristics are inspiring preaching to adapt.[8] He cites eight: entertainment, narrative, consumerism, an ethos of suspicion in public life and reluctance to commit oneself deeply, ‘virtual’ relationships, celebrity, ‘liquid modernity’ and a ‘post-Christendom’ era in which there remain remarkable signs of Christian life and influence. He proceeds to give an incisive account of the potential of this atmosphere for Christian communication of the gospel, as well as the paradoxes entailed in becoming so immersed in it that the influence is predominantly one-way, from culture to preaching.

Here I want to take Standing’s argument a little further and summarize some ways in which preaching with its own ‘strangeness’ might already be positively influencing this strange contemporary British cultural pot-pourri, and could influence it further.

First, preaching may be a voice of reconciliation within the mistrustful and often polarized arena of public discourse. Deborah Tannen writes about the ‘argument culture’ which shapes so much of this discourse, especially in the media and politics.[9] Tannen is not at all opposed to argument per se, but rather to ‘ritualized opposition, in contrast to the literal opposition of genuine disagreement’.[10] Prime Minister’s Questions and tabloid journalism are examples which immediately spring to mind. One hopes that the echoes of a past in which the pulpit itself was a place for ritualized denunciation of ‘the world’, or other Christian traditions, are getting fainter now – though the memory of more adversarial times may linger, not least because ‘preaching’ has become associated with repeated scares about the ‘extremism’ of a minority of Muslims. But if preaching is allowed to be truly a vehicle for God’s own act of reconciliation (2 Cor. 5.18–19), its positive influence could be incalculable. The fact that many congregations are multicultural now places particular demands on the preacher, but also offers a glorious opportunity for the reconciling nature of this ministry to be manifested.

Second, preaching may come as a moment of refreshing and personal simplicity after the frenetic virtual world of internet exchange in which ‘friends’ may be ‘online’, yet are not ‘there’. This might particularly be true when preaching directly, interactively and without notes.[11] Preaching might call people out of over-immersion in the virtual and the impersonal. Tannen points out how one-way communication, such as the blanket email from boss to workers, or a message on an answerphone, can express aggression and therefore feed defensiveness in a way which does not happen in face-to-face communication.[12] Preaching may be largely one-way at the time, but at least the preacher is standing before the hearers, able to gauge their responses, and receive them orally afterwards. It may offer a salutary reminder to our culture of the vulnerability at the heart of personal relationships, expressed most clearly when we are physically present to each other.

Third, preaching can also function as a necessary and reassuring voice of wisdom in an ether awash with ‘knowledge’ which few know how to judge. Maybe the very difficulty and strangeness of preaching – sometimes – is a vital pointer beyond the immediately exciting, ever-changing yet ephemeral world of the small screen.

Fourth, preachers can use a language which deliberately eschews some of the debased forms of speech in circulation today. For example, the ideology of consumerism spreads in a sinister way from the economic to the linguistic sphere, and language shapes perceptions in all sorts of subtle ways (one hears, for instance, about the way people ‘consume new media’). This is a sign of the central place the desires of the self, and the desire for things now, have in the psyche of today’s society. All too easily, Christians may play along with this in the way that a variety of forms of church life and practice are ‘marketed’. Indeed, some forms of preaching can be in reality an exercise in self-marketing or church-marketing, whereas a conscious resistance to using such language can help preaching to be a truly transformative event. Our words can evoke another world, a sphere of free giving, a sphere in which others are as important as ourselves, a sphere in which patience is possible because the future is known to be far more glorious than the present, a sphere in which the human-driven ‘success’ of the Church counts for nothing in comparison with the God-empowered growth of his kingdom.

It is important to think particularly about the way in which the influence of preaching on culture (and vice versa) may change if it happens in the open air rather than within the safe walls of the church.[13] We will return to this topic in Chapter 8 when we consider patterns and practices of preaching. In the open, the preacher is much more obviously a competitor. There is no hiding-place. He or she may choose to imitate some of the tactics of other ‘open-air performers’ such as street actors, or to offer a ‘performance’ in stark contrast to theirs. Neither option should be prejudged as the more potentially transformative. The judgement and response of the public, if any, will be thoroughly conditioned by their expectations and preferences concerning what may happen in such ‘public space’. In church, the preacher is in an important sense on his or her own turf, in a position of control, and members of the general ‘public’ who enter will probably be aware on some level that they are moving into a different cultural arena. This may make them somewhat disorientated and vulnerable. Church buildings, therefore, certainly act to some extent as cultural ‘screens’ which may shield Christians from contemporary culture as well as shielding contemporary culture from Christian witness. Yet those individuals and groups who have the courage to take the gospel to the ‘streets’ may find that it yet has more influence there than many of us have dared to hope.

Theology

Christian theology is the Church’s continued reflection on the meaning of God’s revelation and its implications for our lives. It never stands still, for as the world changes, so our interaction with God’s unique self-disclosure, in Israel and above all in Christ, must change too.[14] For a simple example, we might take our response to the phenomenon of consumerism, just mentioned. The Bible and Christian doctrine give us much practical and challenging guidance about attitudes to money and possessions, and a vision of that which is of true worth. But consumerism as we know it is a new phenomenon, which requires new thinking about how we relate this teaching to our own culture. The depth, or shallowness, of our thought about what it means to be a Christian in a ‘consumer society’ will be evident to others. To what extent is it hypocritical to enjoy its benefits (which are real) while decrying its practices? Simplistic challenges to ‘give’ when most people are in debt will be heard for what they are. Is it possible to ‘give’ when, in truth, you don’t actually ‘have’? In wealthier churches (which includes churches composed of people who can just afford high mortgages), how can preachers and congregations remember the poor, who are precisely those most taunted and excluded by consumerism? Such questions require careful and creative theological thought, not simplistic answers.[15]

Preaching and theology (as we might say) ‘go back a long way’ together. In the early centuries of Christianity, before the Bible and other literature were widely accessible to the general public, and long before Christian theology broke from being an area of study confined to Church circles, preaching was the main means of both doing creative theology and voicing the theological thinking that had been shaping the Church. Indeed, some of those known as the greatest theological thinkers of the early Church are also those known as some of the greatest preachers, and vice versa: Origen, Gregory Nazianzen, Augustine.

If preaching is not such a ‘spearhead’ for theology today, this is not necessarily because either discipline has either declined or is discredited (though some say that both these things are true, of either or both discipline). It may be precisely because those early preacher-theologians did their job so well. For their preaching, and especially the Scriptural interpretation it contained, have survived to a remarkable degree in written form; nor did they see any divide between the oral and written aspects of their activity. Both were subsumed under what Michael Pasquarello (following old terminology) calls ‘sacred rhetoric’,[16] the entire enterprise of forming Christian minds and lives through the Church’s ministry of proclaiming and teaching the gospel. In the sixteenth-century attempts to reform the Church, the Fathers’ preaching and teaching was a vital guide.[17] And as, in the same period, both the Bible and other theological writings became available to vastly more people through the invention of printing and the growth in literacy, preaching no longer needed to be the gateway to theology that once it had been.

So it was that increasingly people did not need to listen to sermons to engage with what the theological thinkers were saying, nor did theological thought necessarily reflect the sorts of things that were being preached. A more radical step, however, came with the post-Enlightenment attempt to treat theology as a discipline that could, in principle, be subjected to the same standards of ‘objective’ rationality as any other, and thus be equally accessible to those beyond the Church as those within it. High academic standards had been nobly blended with theology in the mediaeval schools and above all in the faith-and-reason synthesis of Thomas Aquinas. But the overall framework remained an ecclesiastical one. The founding of the modern ‘secular’ university by Wilhelm von Humboldt in Berlin in 1810 signalled a fundamental questioning of why the study of theology should be confined to the one social grouping which had a deeply vested interest in it (even though that grouping, since the Reformation, had been internally divided).[18] This flew in the face of the Enlightenment ideals of detached reflection and the possibility, in principle, of any human being attaining growth in knowledge through the universal reason possessed by all. At the same time, there was a seminal attempt to divide up theology so that the descriptive, academic task of identifying ‘biblical theology’ was separated from the normative, constructive task of developing ‘dogmatic theology’.[19] The fact that a place was allowed for the constructive task shows that preaching, and other forms of Church-based theologizing, still had their place; but to carry credibility they had to be based on the biblical theology done in the academy.

One might argue that preachers have been on the back foot ever since. Distinguished theologian-preachers such as Schleiermacher and Barth (in very different ways) sought to reassert the Church’s authority in preaching: Schleiermacher by emphasizing the hearers’ actual experience, and the evocation of their innate sense of transcendence in preaching; Barth by emphasizing the power of God’s word to break into human experience in unpredictable and world-challenging ways. But they themselves produced works of academic theology which, arguably, have proved much more influential than their actual preaching. Can (and should) the preaching of the Church once again be an influence on the highest and most rigorous realms of study and exploration? If not – if the influence must inevitably be the other way round – does that mean that the Church is doomed to remain in the inappropriate-sounding role of handmaid of academic theology, even though such theology is not necessarily carried out within a Christian ethos? Given our contemporary awareness that the Enlightenment goal of ‘neutrality’ is a chimera, this must surely mean that the Church must open itself to being enslaved to presuppositions and modes of thought which, at least sometimes, fly in the face of ‘the mind of Christ’.[20]

Large philosophical questions are raised here, but our concern is to pursue the implications for preaching. Two very practical matters can be identified: the way in which a preacher’s own theological thinking is formed, and the operative frameworks or ‘ordinary hermeneutics’ by which a congregation’s theological mind is shaped.

The hope of ministerial training institutions is to enable those called to ministry to articulate the Christian gospel in a way that is faithful to orthodox Christian tradition, and both comprehensible and applicable to their contemporaries. This is a matter not only of imparting knowledge but also of inducting students into ways of thinking and practices of ongoing theological reflection which stimulate lifelong growth as preachers, as well as in all other dimensions of ministry.

Reality, of course, is messy, and the processes of learning and development are as unpredictable and non-linear for ministers as they are for anyone else. It is appropriate, though, for any preacher reviewing their ministry at any stage to ask what theological sources and modes of thought are most influencing their preaching ministry. The question is bound to reveal the haphazard nature of the influences upon us. We will all (probably!) have read the Bible. But we are all children of particular traditions; even those who come later into church life find themselves caught up in one tradition or another (or indeed choose one for themselves). We will have been directed to particular books and authors; we have heard particular teachers and preachers. Other writings or speakers we have come across quite by accident. Any or all of these we may have warmed to, reacted against or remained fairly neutral towards. Moreover, we are formed deeply by our theological friendships. The fact that a particular person is (or is not) sympathetic to a particular view may have great influence on the extent of our own sympathy to it.

Given the history of the academic ‘takeover’ of theology which I have outlined, preachers are bound to be influenced by such studies in many ways. Even if a preacher’s reading is restricted (say) to popular devotional Bible commentaries, only those from the narrowest ‘stables’ will have been uninfluenced by academic biblical study and theology – to the extent, very likely, of remaining unhelpfully naïve. Any more ‘mainstream’ commentary, or theological work, will have been written in dialogue with a range of others, including, normally, at least some – often many – holding different views and perspectives from those of the writer himself or herself. If God’s truth may potentially be found anywhere, it is not a matter of ‘popular Christian’ theology being ‘right’ and ‘academic theology’ being (at the very least) ‘dangerous’. It is rather that the simple awareness – at least in outline – of the ways in which our theological minds are being shaped is the crucial first step to learning, appropriate critique of ourselves and our ‘sources’ and more sensitive mediation of the gospel for congregations.

In this light, the old jibe that you can tell when preachers have stopped thinking by the latest date of the books on their shelves needs revising – and not just because, these days, they probably haven’t been able to afford to buy many new ones! It is not the date of the books alone, but their provenance which is significant. Although many publishers now offer a wide theological spectrum, some are still known for the particular perspective they take. A preaching diet that is dependent on the preacher’s reading from the output of just one or two publishers (worse still, one or two authors) will be thin, narrow and very unlikely to contain the full sustenance of the gospel. ‘Old’ can be wonderfully refreshing – as those now rediscovering the riches of the Patristic tradition are learning. The question is whether our reading is enlarging our horizons in helpful ways, and whether we are learning to apply our critical faculties to everything, including that which we find most congenial.

Reflecting on the theological influences upon us should disabuse us of any notion that we might ever aspire to being pure channels for pure doctrine. Our theological outlook is mediated through many streams, and we have had our own, mysterious ways of absorbing those into our system and rejecting elements that do not seem to us to fit. The fact that we have had some sort of systematic training should be an advantage to us, but it does not make us the ‘expert’ who ‘knows it all’ in comparison with hearers who are (in this way of thinking) empty vessels waiting for our ‘knowledge’ to be offloaded. We ‘know’ genuinely, yet we ‘know’ in part (1 Cor. 13.12), like everyone else.

Our other concern here is the way in which the congregation’s theological mind is shaped. Preachers need to reckon with the fact that preaching is only one element (maybe quite a small one) in this process. The fascinating study of ‘ordinary hermeneutics’ is starting to open up something of the picture for us.[21] Not only have people (sometimes) been influenced by a variety of preachers before the one they are listening to now. They may also (quite often) have read at least something of the Bible, maybe with accompanying notes. They may have dipped into theological reading, of the lighter or heavier variety. A preacher is profoundly mistaken and arrogant to assume general ignorance on the part of hearers. Many of them, while not being theologically trained, will be immersed in areas of life and learning – often practical, but sometimes academic too – of which the preacher is all but totally ignorant himself or herself. These areas may have considerable bearing on the theological thinking of those concerned even if they do not articulate it. Moreover, they must surely have a vital contribution – if somehow it can be tapped – to the developing theological reflection of the congregation in question, as they continue to wrestle with the application of the gospel to life.

Preachers and congregations should also take account of the more subtle ways in which shared theological attitudes and views are being shaped. The structures, symbols and words of worship are very influential on the reception of the sermon, as we noted above. However, they are also extremely influential on the entire theological mindset of the congregation. What a congregation does in worship week by week, and perhaps especially what it sings, forms its thinking about God and his relationship with his world in almost frighteningly powerful ways. In addition, churches today are no longer so purely ‘local’. Many Christians are regular attenders at conferences and festivals, regular readers of online Christian material or printed notes, regular receivers of Christian magazines, regular listeners to Christian radio stations, and so on. What is said and done in these various forums may be far more penetrating of people’s perspectives than the preacher’s words. It may hold far greater sway over how, in practice, congregations interpret the Bible and construct a theology that appears to be both faithful and applicable.

The need for an awareness of such influences on congregational thinking is brought into sharp relief when it is realized that sometimes the messages given by the preacher are in conflict, maybe unwittingly so, with the messages being received openly or subliminally from elsewhere. For example, a preacher may want to draw people’s attention to Paul’s theology of power through weakness, yet the songs the congregation most loves to sing may all emphasize the power rather than the weakness. A preacher may want to give the congregation permission to lament as the Psalmist did, but some in the congregation may have been schooled (in deeper than conscious ways) in the idea that encounter with God must be celebratory and joyful or else it is not genuine. A preacher may have been influenced (say) by reformed theology or catholic spirituality, whereas the congregation might be (say) more ‘liberal’ or more ‘charismatic’ – something which can come out in tensions between the discussions in home groups and what is preached on Sundays.[22]

Unless we reckon as honestly as we can with this diversity and complexity of influences, we will not be in a position to discuss the important normative and practical questions of ‘whether’, ‘why’, and ‘how’ which we shall approach in Parts 3 and 4 of the book – whether we are thinking of preaching in general, or the preaching ministry of a church in general or particular sermons. Yet even to attempt an examination of such influences runs the risk of falling into two traps. On the one side, the preacher may regard such an exercise as an attempt to expose the ‘inadequate’ theologies the congregation is imbibing from various quarters, as a prelude to being able to ‘correct’ them with more insight. This would be foolish, given – as we have seen – that the preacher’s store of ‘truth’ is, in its way, as partial and haphazardly garnered as anyone else’s. On the other side, the preacher may be in danger of losing confidence altogether in the calling and formation they have received. To say that the congregation is a mediator of truth as well as the preacher does not mean that the preacher has nothing distinctive and vital to contribute.[23]

Pastoral care

The final arena within which preaching has an important function is that of pastoral care.[24] Most preachers are also pastors of those to whom they preach, whether as a sole minister or as part of a team; whether ‘full-time’ or ‘part-time’.

Whether or not the preacher has an official pastoral role among a specific congregation, the presence or absence of pastoral concern in preaching, and consistency or otherwise between pastoral care and what is preached and how it is preached, will make themselves felt. Beyond anything to do with sermon content or method, hearers can sense whether the preacher cares. They feel instinctively (if not always articulately) whether what is being offered them is nourishing and nurturing (even if they cannot take the full meal on that occasion), or whether it is vacuous, tasteless or downright poisonous. And whatever the preacher’s role – regular pastor, ‘lay preacher’, visitor – their attitude to their hearers will show.

To identify the preaching encounter as a ‘pastoral’ one does not imply anything about the hearers with respect to their prior commitment, allegiance or church membership; it encompasses ‘evangelistic’ preaching as much as ‘teaching’. Whatever kind of spiritual life our hearers have or do not have, we are their pastors inasmuch as we co-operate, or not, with the desire of Father, Son and Spirit to bring fullness of life to all.

The pastor who preaches to his or her congregation most weeks in the year is not just engaged in the delivery of necessary information to an anonymous group (like the radio or TV news presenter), nor the regular performance of scripts to equally anonymous groups (like an actor). He or she is in a peculiar and privileged relationship to these people, and preaching is neither an interruption to this relationship nor the main driver of it. It is an integral part of it.

Again, we must recognize this as a fact before we begin to talk about ‘what’ and ‘how’ we preach. Whatever we as preachers may think we are doing – if, for instance, we imagine that we can get away with a distinctly non-pastoral tirade on Sunday morning and resume normal church meetings on Monday evening or pastoral visits on Tuesday afternoon – we will soon find out that the congregation thinks differently. There is a relationship there, and preaching holds out the possibilities of either deepening it or damaging it.

Yet the relationship is not an ordinary one, but is inevitably bound up with the preacher’s role. Across the spectrum of theologies of ministry, there is common ground in the recognition that where there are ministers, they are set apart by the Church under, it believes, the guidance and inspiration of God, for guiding his flock. Not only the preacher’s compassion and motivation, therefore, are at stake, and his or her sensitivity to the fact of pastoral relationship, but the fittingness of the way in which he or she exercises the entire pastoral role. Thus a preacher may avoid the danger mentioned above of real damage to the relationship, yet still court weakening the preaching event if it is not seen in a healthy balance with other elements of the ministerial calling. Others apart from the preacher will, one hopes, share in the pastoral care of a congregation; but a preacher who preaches about care yet appears to give little time to caring, or to leave it all to others, risks damaging the pastoral relationship in perhaps a less immediate, but more long-term way than the one who offloads grudges or hostility in a single sermon. The same is equally true, conversely, of those who spend large amounts of time on personal pastoral caring but insufficient time reflecting how most helpfully to advance the pastoral cause in preaching. No minister should be thought of – or think of themselves – as omnicompetent, but there are central ministerial tasks which rightly require to be held in proper balance.

An aspect of exercising a pastoral function through preaching is leadership. The relationship between preaching and leadership is a delicate one.[25] The tasks of preacher, pastor and leader come together in the calling to build Christian community based on the word of God.[26] On the one hand, a pastor who preaches is de facto exercising leadership. He or she is acting at the very least as a guide to those hearing. And the preacher who is sensitive both to the revelation of God and to the needs of the people will rightly seek a sense of how God may be wanting to lead the people on in their specific circumstances and their Christian community life. On the other hand, when preaching is understood purely as a function of leadership, the Godward dimension is easily lost (even if God-language is used). Preaching as an event which serves to enable worship, transform cultures and shape theology cannot at the same time be preaching that is equivalent to motivational management.

The relationship of preaching to pastoral care is intimately linked to its relationship to theology. It is the pastoring impulse which motivates and directs the preacher to articulate not necessarily what the congregation wants to hear, but what it is able to hear of the gospel vision the preacher has received. It is this same impulse which drives the preacher to utter not just a resumé of their own beliefs, but whatever from Scripture and Christian tradition will most helpfully enlarge, redirect and engage with the various beliefs and perspectives already held by the congregation. The reality is that people will be adjusting those beliefs and perspectives all the time – notwithstanding the periods of resistance to change which we all live through. The pastoral preacher fulfils an important function contributing to that process.

Questions for the local church

In what ways is the preaching you experience, whether as preacher or hearer, fulfilling or seeking to fulfil these functions?

Does it fulfil one or more of them better than others, and if so, why?

Are there other functions which preaching is fulfilling, or could or should fulfil?

Areas for research

The way in which preaching in fact fulfils any of the four functions identified in this chapter is an important topic for empirical research. For example, one could build on the foundations being laid in the study of ‘ordinary hermeneutics’ to study the way in which preaching in fact contributes to the worshipping life and theological development of a congregation.