Preaching That Makes the Word Plain - William Clair Turner

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come to life, where one discovers a key lodged in minute details for unlocking the mysteries. Or, we might say that one sees into the mystery. By means of a “lithic imagination,”4 we are invited to look into the dense, opaque stone and see what has been given. Such keys open both the text and the context. Then preaching is far less a chore than a delight. It is a report of what has been shown to eyes that previously were “holden.” The “stranger” who joins us—as he did the two who walked to Emmaus—makes our world without him seem strange as the bread of life is broken.

      Exegeting with Intention

      Nobody reads the bible without interests of some sort. Even those who read it as literature, for pleasure, or to dispute it have some purpose in mind. This is even more the case for those who read it as sacred text. Indeed, the claim for the bible as word of God, authoritative writing, or any other designation that indicates privilege necessarily involves a theological act. The privilege the bible has among human creatures means that there is no ordinary reading. The intention to which we now have reference, however, refers more to the subject who reads or hears what is brought forth from the scriptures.

      It is like leading the children to stand before the mountain where God spoke from the flames of Sinai. It is like the prophet making a direct address to the king, who is confused regarding who is the troubler of Israel: the selfish scoundrel who should be put to death, or the finger that writes to break up the sacrilegious drinking party? Again, it is like the prophet telling the king he must die and then pronouncing that fifteen years have been added to his life. Exegeting with intention is bringing a brother into the presence of the Messiah who sees and knows him prior to the introduction. It is the ephphatic encounter that opens the deaf ear (as with the man whose ear was opened by the word of Jesus in Mark 7:34), or the ergersistic event, where the command to rise performs the work of obedience, which is like resurrection (as with the cripples in Luke 5:23 and John 5:8).

      With intention, a specific word is spoken to specific persons to address specific issues. This is more than the truth in general—whether it be the truth of the scriptures or the truth about the human condition. Just as there can be exegetical excess from the investigation of the text, so it can be from the context. Exegesis with intention refers to the truth of the word being applied on the spot. It is more than a statement of the case, as with social scientific analysis, or social commentary such as one hears in rap and hip-hop. It is more than theological truism, such as is found in trite speech, like “all things work together for good” taken out of context.

      Just as one must submit to the world and reality of the scripture to rightly divide the word (cf. 2 Timothy 2:15), so one must give the mind to know the “madness and folly” that resides in the heart of the hearer. This hermeneutical principle, articulated by the preacher in the book of Ecclesiastes, is the only real option for those desiring to be heard and understood, especially in a day of epistemological shifts. In the truly dense spaces where civilizations intersect and clash—where eras join and separate—canons are not always clear.

      Vexation of the spirit cannot be avoided in relevant and powerful preaching. The business is not usual. The subjects are not predictable. A trip to the commentary does not comprehend the madness of racism, wars of preemption, and suicide bombing. Nor does it make sense out of ethnic cleansing, genocide, and patricide. The madness must be stared in the face for knowledge of what it is—with comments about what ought to be the case suspended—till one sees what makes it tick. Children do not join gangs and commit suicide for nothing, despite the protests of parents concerning “how good they have it.” Put another way, we do not know the mind of the generation by doing all the talking ourselves.

      Twenty-first-century preaching is to a generation that to a significant degree knows nothing of the farm. Many persons in our civilization have no sense of the work that is required to plant, cultivate, and harvest crops. Food is purchased at the market, or it is bought prepared and ready to eat. Similarly with other forms of technology: the younger generation has come to rely on them—without the memory of times that predate such innovations—as if conveniences and gadgets simply came with the world. No explanation of the physics of electricity, magnetism, or electronics is required. On the other hand, where scientific knowledge is present, it can readily become the measure for all claims that are trustworthy. Verifiability is thought to reside in the measurement of the senses. In a context such as this, preaching from the scriptures seems to rest on knowledge from a strange and distant world.

      Because of this strangeness and distance, countless images, metaphors, and parables from the bible have no resonance. The epistemological discontinuities often go unrecognized. Common sense realism has flowered into full bloom. Add to this the perduring pragmatism that is driven deeply into the American landscape, and the consequence is that much of what the bible has to say about human nature has an odd sound. The world of the bible is strange and foreign.

      A necessary intention of preaching, therefore, must be to expose the hearer of the gospel to his or her own subjectivity. Knowledge and exploration of the epistemological breaks is as crucial for the exegetical task as critical study of the text. To put the matter another way, preaching with intention requires what Charles Long has called “archaeology of the subject.” This is an interrogation of what it means to be modern, postmodern, American, or whoever we know ourselves to be. But sincere communication also requires taking seriously how we are known by those we consider as the Other. An intersubjective connection is present in every act of effective preaching.

      Preaching necessarily embraces the numinous (pneumatic) factors. It is inspired by the Spirit. It is an invitation into the world of mystery, even as it enters into the mysteries of the human heart. To the extent that it remains in tension with the scriptures and remains consistent with the intention for which it is given, preaching employs the language of pneumatology. Indeed, in some ways this archaic discourse is consistent with what might be nominated as the “postmodern tendency” of the twenty-first century.

      Concern to speak to the times and seasons prevents the preacher from becoming a ventriloquist dummy for the culture. For then the tension would be broken, forfeiting the energy and power of preaching. When the preacher acts as dummy, her lips move, but another supplies the thoughtful reflection. The word of the Lord is confused with the word of the king and the voice of the land, as in the day of Ahab and Jehosophat. Ahab refused to call Micaiah, saying he only spoke evil and never what he wanted to hear. But all the other prophets were under the spell of the lying spirit. They would send the people into a battle where God had promised no protection and victory.

      The image of the ventriloquist dummy was riveted in my imagination one night while watching Ted Coppell. There was a discussion between Jesse Jackson and Jerry Falwell prior to the demise of Apartheid in South Africa. Falwell called Bishop Tutu a phony and proceeded to apologize for the regime that was in power. There was no hint on his part of a need for “Regime Change.” Interestingly enough, here were two Baptist preachers who were light-years apart in their perspectives. Jesse went for the jugular, telling Jerry he sounded like a ventriloquist dummy for Pik Botha.

      Those who were raised in the church, coming up through the “cradle roll,” have heard the text read and interpreted so frequently that there is often little clue concerning where the text ends and theological construction begins. Instruction in the faith is unavoidable, and it is the proper work of every Christian community. However, theologically trained pastors

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