Preaching to the Choir?

I am no stranger to preaching. In a way it has been my stock in trade since first stepping up to a pulpit more than 48 years ago. Over the years I have been humbled by it and occasionally embarrassed by my performance in trying to do it well. But most of the time I have felt energized and gratified in sharing my faith with others while delivering sermons. I’ve also had the good fortune of hearing several noteworthy preachers who spoke to my heart and catalyzed my own spiritual reflections. No two of us regard preachers and preaching in the same way. For some, homiletical artistry is little more than “talking in other people’s sleep,” a sad-but-true observation of the flickering eyes and drooping heads of so many laboring to listen in the pews. I must confess that I have often been in that number of slumbering, rather than marching, saints. For those who do stay awake, preachers stimulate the mind to thoughtful consideration of faith’s most compelling challenges, or stir the heart into releasing its dormant wellsprings of compassion.

Since church attendance is now more elective than in my formative years, preachers are likely to be addressing congregations with more kindred than antagonistic spirits. There was a time when this was less true, when church attendance was an obligation that brought many into the House of the Lord against their will. But today, ministers, priests and rabbis can take heart knowing that, whenever they offer a homily or sermon, they are likely to be “preaching to the choir.” Now this cliché doesn’t only point to a literal ensemble of vocalists sitting in the chancel or positioned loftily at a safe distance in the balcony. Instead, the “choir” refers to the gathering of believers listening in the congregation, whether they be numbered in handfuls or squeezed, shoulder-to-shoulder into stiff-backed pews. Preachers have no monopoly in preaching to such choirs. Politicians are quite accustomed to it as well. In fact, they preach to their choirs by design.

Of late I have become more aware of, and more irritated by, the volume and repetition of political ads interrupting my favorite television programs at all hours of the day and night. Even in a mid-term election year a plethora of governmental seats are up for grabs, from state representatives to governors to judges to members of Congress. And all of them are beating the bushes for votes that will either grant them access to, or return them to some seat of power and influence.

In many respects these men and women are conducting on-air interviews for the jobs they so covet. But they are jobs that will only be secured if the requisite number of their future employers choose them by their votes. So they make their best pitches via stump speeches, interviews and debates, and through endless, and costly, advertising. Like all prospective applicants, each candidate endeavors to showcase those qualities that make him or her the best choice for elective office. So their self-promotions usually include their previous experience, their notable character, their positions on key issues and the many wonderful things they promise to do once in office. But few of them stop with this resume. For politics is a game in which it isn’t enough to cite one’s own merits. With so many deceivers and charlatans, fools and pretenders also seeking the jobs they covet, it is important that candidates spare no energy or mince no words in calling out their opponents. So I’m never sure if I should be gratified, or troubled, upon learning that they, in fact, approve their campaign ads, as duplicitous and misleading as they often can be.

Each and every candidate for elected office is “preaching to the choir” of his or her party or political constituency. That tells us what we should expect to hear from any of them. For while they may lack the credentials to serve in priestly or pastoral roles, they certainly know how to preach. Anyone studying oratory and public address recognizes that most of our communications can be boiled down to three goals or purposes:  to inform, to entertain, and to persuade. Each directs what a speaker will say and how that speaker will approach an audience. Good preachers are often quite entertaining, and most try to pepper their sermons with information of a historical, etymological, or biographical nature. It is all part of an overall design to capture and hold the attention of their congregation, while helping build a case in support of the main point they are trying to make.  But the sermon will fail if it doesn’t try to satisfy its overriding purpose: to persuade.

Now there is persuasion, and there is persuasion. The first level of persuasion that every speaker must reach is convincing an audience that he or she is worth hearing. That battle is won or lost in the first few seconds of any address. Secondly, the speaker must then make a good case for the reasonability and believability of what he or she is saying. Listeners may still not agree or give the speaker their support, but they at least accept the possibility that his or her ideas are legitimate. But then comes the third and most daunting hurdle for any speaker: making himself or herself so compelling that those listening actually change their minds or alter their behavior.   

No preacher or politician can survive long or gain much of a hearing while failing to persuade a listener or audience at the first or second level. Pulling off number three is what separates the most effective communicators from those who do little more than take up our time, occupy our space (even TV screen space), and fill our ears with noise. But persuasion at this third level of success is very, very difficult to achieve. It is the arena in which debates are won, juries are swayed, unbelievers are converted and voters are convinced to switch parties or select another candidate. Fortunately for preachers and politicians, this third level of persuasion is a goal to which they need not lose any sleep. For it is only on the rarest of occasions that they have a chance to pull it off. Why? Because they spend most of their presentational time addressing their parishioners, their supporters, and their fans. The days of orations in the town square, or even lectures to college audiences seem a thing of the past. For the former are too long and boring for today’s short attention-span audiences, and the latter are unwelcome and offensive on most politically-intolerant campuses. So candidates today put most of their energy in playing to their base, which is nothing more or less than preaching to their choirs.

Should we expect anything less from those evangelizing in ecclesiastical and political arenas? Perhaps not. Several millennia of history, habit and cultural convention have all proved that humans most often seek the company of those who share their values, appreciate their tastes and humor, and agree with their opinions. None of this should come as a revelation. But is preaching to the choir the best way we should be communicating with each other during election campaigns? Doesn’t a democratic Republic like ours require leaders with the ability to engage each other in dialogue and the will to compromise with each other in wrestling with the vexing issues and problems besetting our nation? Given the diversity of opinions and disparate priorities among our population—those pluribus elements that have always marked the American character—electing people who can only preach to their choirs is a recipe for dysfunction and failure in our government. For those folks seem intent on dominating and vanquishing those of contrary views rather than on trying to find common ground in working with them to achieve a greater good.

With votes now being cast and November's election day but six weeks away, candidates are hard at work securing the votes they hope will put them over the top. Most will exhaust themselves in trying to make their case to anyone who will listen to them. A few may even succeed in changing minds and redirecting votes from those outside their tribes. But most will have to settle for the votes of those who have been saying “amen” to what they’ve been preaching over this campaign season. Whether the voter turnout is stronger than usual in this non-presidential election year, or whether it is characteristically light, it is safe to say that the majority of those who end up making acceptance speeches this Fall will be the candidates whose “choirs” turned out in the greatest number. And while this every-two-year exercise marks the pulse-beat of our Republic, it remains to be seen how many of these political preachers will prove to have the right stuff to actually lead and govern in these complex and demanding times.

Perhaps this year enough of us voters will look past the simplifications in the political sermons we’ve been hearing, look beyond the spin, character assassinations and bandwagon hype that has been filling our ears these past several months. And in filling out our mail-in ballots or stepping into that most private and powerful of freedom’s sanctuaries—the voting booth—perhaps we will rely on that which our founders considered our most important contribution to the welfare of our Republic: a well-informed and reasonable conscience.

In January 2021, I began thinking out loud via weekly essays, now 89 in number, that have been archived on this website that I call Twilight Reflections. Sensing I could use a little break, I’m going to go dark for the next four weeks. In the meantime I invite you to browse some of my previous efforts, many of which I think still hold up. As always your input and feedback is both welcomed and appreciated.