Do you do this in your sermons?

Journalism has this reflex that may be the last aspect of traditional journalism to die. As they padlock the doors of the NY Times building one day, one of the reporters standing outside will reflect somberly on the moment and then say, “On the other hand, there are some who are happy about this …”

This comes up today while reading this story about the unexpected – and hard to explain – box office success of the movie “Paul Blart: Mall Cop.” The story talks to everyone who kind of knows the people who actually made the movie and speculates about why it is doing so well and whether the star Kevin James has broken through. Then we get the reflexive twitch:

Whatever the reason, there’s at least one group that doesn’t heart “Paul Blart”: real security guards. For starters, they say the phrase “mall cop” is nearly as demeaning as the dreaded “rent-a-cop” moniker.

Then we get a couple quotes from “real security guards” about how they feel insulted and misrepresented. (This being the United Methodist Church, we should probably draft a resolution decrying the unfair stereotypes.)

And, I thought as I was chewing on this, I do the same thing in sermons all the time. I hit that point when I’m making a point or following a narrative thread. I look around and realize I’ve probably lost a few stragglers along the way, so I stop and do this little ditty. “Of course, there are other ways people have interpreted it …” “It may be that Jesus had something else on his mind …”

The argument in favor of such rhetorical strategies is that they serve a purpose. You speak to the questions your audience has. That makes sense. But which questions? If you preach to more than a handful of people aren’t you likely to be stirring up – if they listen at all – dozens and dozens of questions?

I wonder if this impulse would not be better left to itself more often. I am sure we should not let a reflex shape our sermon writing.

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