PREACHING TO THE CHOIR

on purpose

In a 2017 article for Harper’s Magazine, Rebecca Solnit asserts that the  phrase preaching to the choir properly means “hectoring [bullying or coercing] your listeners with arguments they already agree with, and it is the common sin among radicals, the tendency to denounce others as a way of announcing one’s own virtue.” By this definition, a Trump rally would be the quintessential example of someone preaching to the choir. The tone of these events is abrasive and caustic, and unapologetically divisive. The goal of a Trump rally is to radicalize the attendees by painting the other side as less Christian, less salt-of-the-earth, and less patriotic than they.

In a church environment, preaching to the choir might involve railing against those on the other side of the preacher-created divide. The “other” might be Muslims, Jews, baby-killing liberals, gay-bashing conservatives, etc. The preacher is browbeating a captive and mostly supportive audience as an easy way to arouse fervor around her own ministry or mission. I confess I’ve used this technique myself. It’s the lazy preacher’s way to fire up a crowd. I take solace in the fact that even Jesus did this on occasion—the pious Pharisee being his foil. (The poor Pharisee is still a favorite target for many Christian preachers.)

Fire, light, Jesus, and us

The problem with preaching to the choir in this manner is that it uses fire to heat up an audience rather than light, and fire burns out. However, I am aware that the metaphor Jesus used for light was a candle. My wife loves candles. When the sun goes down, Sally lights candles—two, three, or more. When our grandchildren are here, one of them will light every candle in the house, and our house has a lot of candles. The light from these illuminators is soft, nuanced, even soothing. I like to think that this image of candles is what Jesus was going for with his “light to the world” language.

To whom and for whom?

The phrase preaching to the choir implies that the work in which we engage (be it spiritual, political or otherwise) should be primarily evangelical—missional. We must go out and convert the heathens because talking to those with whom we agree achieves nothing. But who actually has success changing the minds of those with whom you profoundly disagree? 

So then it’s back to the “choir” as audience. Solnit suggests that we might justifiably ask, “[I]s there no purpose in getting preached to, in gathering with our compatriots? Why else do we go to church but to sing, to pray a little, to ease our troubled minds, to see our friends, and to hear the sermon?”

When the preaching event is done well, the preacher is putting words and images together in such a way that the listeners find themselves feeling as if what is being said is what they would say if they had the words. Preachers take an idea, a thought, a feeling even, and they stretch it and push out its edges and pull their listeners into the depths of what’s buried in the audience’s own hearts and minds. This kind of preaching is a collective workout that leaves everyone involved feeling as if effort was expended, spiritual calories burned. It’s John the Baptist down by the river and Jesus up on the mount.

Conviction not conversion

As a preacher I want to engage everyone in the pews, especially God if God deems to show up (which is not a given, by the way). But it’s the choir I’m after because it is the choir who will go out and change the world. Again Solnit: “To suggest that you shouldn’t preach to the choir is to misunderstand the nature of preaching. Conversion is not the goal on a Sunday morning, but strengthening conviction is.”

Nineteenth Century Quaker Susan B. Anthony had a choir of women, and she preached to them every chance she got. Anthony knew she was not going to achieve women’s suffrage by convincing men that women should have the right to vote, but by getting women to march with her. It wasn’t until 14 years after her death that the 19th Amendment was passed, but most attribute the movement’s success to Anthony’s ability to mobilize women.

Solnit points out that by rallying African Americans and a handful of allies, Martin Luther King added fuel to their fire and paved the way for long-lasting change:

Martin Luther King, Jr led the famous march on Washington. According to Gallup polls from the early 1960s, the majority of Americans did not support the tactics of the civil rights movement, and less than a quarter of the public approved of the 1963 March on Washington. Nevertheless, the march helped push the federal government to pass the 1964 Civil Rights Act. It was at this march that Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his “I Have a Dream” speech—an example of preaching to the choir at its best. King spoke to inspire his supporters rather than persuade his detractors.

Comparing choirs

On the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, King argued that his listeners’ dissatisfaction was legitimate and necessary, that they must demand drastic change, not tolerate moderation or incremental progress. White allies were needed, but black activists didn’t need to wait for them. King preached his choir into marching, resisting non-violently, suffering arrests and beatings.

What is the difference between the preaching of Trump and that of King? Most significantly, I think, it’s the make-up of the choir. Trump’s choir is almost entirely made up of white Christian men who have convinced themselves that they are being persecuted. King’s choir consisted mainly of black people—Christian black people. The conviction held in the hearts and souls of these church-going believers came out of knowing that in spite of unimaginable persecution, their ancestors had persevered with unparalleled spirit and grit. This proud heritage was their “light.”

Trump’s train is filled with people who have dominated American life for as long as America has been in existence. Like Egypt’s Pharaoh, they see the surge of the “other” as a threat to their place at the head of the table. In contrast, King’s army was made up of black people who were, as Rosa Parks declared, tired of waiting for their white God-fearing neighbors to make a place for them anywhere at the table.

Being in the choir

Maybe, like Parks, you are tired too. Perhaps, like me, you feel as if you are screaming into a canyon and the only sound you hear is that of your own voice reverberating around the rim. Like Elijah we get to thinking—“I’m the only one left . . . ” (I Kings 19:10). In response, God basically told Elijah to get over himself and join the choir of prophets that included his replacement, Elisha. “Stay in the game,” God ordered him.

Here is the amazing truth: a small group of committed people can influence an entire culture. I entreat those of you following this little blog to stay engaged in your local religious community. That’s where I believe you and I can make the most difference. Encourage your preacher to address issues that are important to you—truth matters, character matters, words matter. And when he does, thank him. And when she doesn’t, try to understand the tough spot she’s in: damned if she does and damned if she doesn’t. Let your preacher know that you are an ally, not an enemy—you are in her choir!

Something is not nothing

Please, above all else, do as God ordered Elijah: “Stay in the game.” Say something, do something. It doesn’t have to be something big, just something that contributes to the common good. Sally and I are volunteering with a program called “Refresh.” It’s a simple little deal organized by a member of the church where I work. People who are experiencing homelessness can come in and collect their mail, get a fresh set of clothes, take a hot shower, grab a hot meal, and be called by their first names. The people who serve with us are a bunch of older women and men, along with those beautiful, compulsive do-gooders.

They make up a wonderful choir!  You make up a wonderful choir!

Walk with me

“We cannot walk alone,” King reminded his audience in 1963. Find people to walk with—and talk with. In this solidarity we can find power, pleasure, and purpose.