Why great sermons aren't just for the religious | Rob Bell
Big Think
2018-06-06
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A great sermon doesn’t mean setting props on fire—but it sure doesn’t hurt, says Rob Bell. Having gone into preaching after being in a band, Bell's methods are unorthodox—and the world is a better place for it. Rather than use the sermon as a belief-affirmation device, or to sway votes and donations, Bell uses his sermons to connect dots of meaning into a universal narrative. "A sermon is for everyone. The sermon isn’t for a particular people who have already agreed that they all believe a particular, narrow set of things. A sermon is about what it means to be human... You think about Martin Luther King—"I have a dream". Now that’s a sermon... It was dangerous and comforting and healing and provocative and you learned something and it gave you a new vision for what might be possible—that the sermon is an art form." Here, Bell shares his three-step process for how to tell a powerful story. Rob Bell is the author of How to Be Here: A Guide to Creating a Life Worth Living.
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Transcript: Yeah, that’s how it all started for me, is I was in a band and the band broke up—like college bands do, because everybody had to get jobs—and I was teaching water skiing at this camp and they said there’s going to be a religious service and who wants to give the sermon? And I said, "I will." And all of a sudden, you know, you say something and the words come out of your mouth and then you’re like, "Wait, what? Give a sermon?" I had heard a few sermons growing up and I always thought that the sermon raised that existential question, 'What’s for lunch?', you know, it was just boring. But I came out of band world where you engaged an audience, where there was something happening in the room from the back row to the front; let’s all go somewhere together. And so I remember doing my first sermon and thinking this is why I’m here. I’m going to reclaim the sermon as this lost art form. For many people in our culture, the sermon is just a belief-affirmation device. Just tell people what they already think so you all can feel smug in your rightness. For other people, the sermon is how you convince people to give money so you can build bigger buildings. For some people, the sermon is just how you get people to vote a certain way.
But you think about Martin Luther King—"I have a dream". Now that’s a sermon. Nobody heard that sermon and then thought, 'I don’t know, he’s usually funnier.' Do you know what I mean? You were either there or you weren't. It was dangerous and comforting and healing and provocative and you learned something and it gave you a new vision for what might be possible—that the sermon is an art form. And in many ways, in our culture, it’s been lost and some of us are trying to reclaim it as this art form that’s somewhere between performance art and guerrilla theater and a TED talk and a recovery meeting and a revival.
And that a sermon is for everyone. The sermon isn’t for a particular people who have already agreed that they all believe a particular, narrow set of things. A sermon is about what it means to be human. And so a sermon is poetry. A sermon is science. A sermon is visual. A sermon is experiential; I’ve set stuff on fire, I’ve had actors planted in the audience, I’ve built solar systems out of exercise balls that we hung from the roof, I’ve used live animals. I’ve done the sermon backward and then forward to make a larger point about time. Everything you can think of I’ve probably tried in relation to a sermon. And right now I do a residency at a club in West Hollywood near where I live, a comedy club called Largo, and I do these hour-and-15-minute, hour-and-30-minute sermons—I guess you call it a sermon, a one-man show, and I want to take you somewhere. And it’s history and it’s anthropology and it’s theology and sometimes it’s funny, and it’s pop culture and it’s data about all kinds of things, and it all mashes together. But we want to be inspired. We want new insight into who we are and who "we" are—we as human beings. Meaning is like oxygen for the soul; we want to know what it means. We want to know where it’s headed. We want to make sense of our past. We want to know how to forgive. We’re looking to make connections because, otherwise, the world is fragmented and fractured. It just comes at you with no narrative thread. And one of the things a sermon does is it connects this to this to this and you walk out of there with a little more sense of centered grounding, like, 'Oh, yeah, that is who we are. That is who I am. That is what we’re doing here.' And that’s, to me, a sermon.
Read more at BigThink.com: http://bigthink.com/videos/rob-bell-why-great-sermons-arent-just-for-the-religious
Follow Big Think here:
YouTube: http://goo.gl/CPTsV5
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Transcript: Yeah, that’s how it all started for me, is I was in a band and the band broke up—like college bands do, because everybody had to get jobs—and I was teaching water skiing at this camp and they said there’s going to be a religious service and who wants to give the sermon? And I said, "I will." And all of a sudden, you know, you say something and the words come out of your mouth and then you’re like, "Wait, what? Give a sermon?" I had heard a few sermons growing up and I always thought that the sermon raised that existential question, 'What’s for lunch?', you know, it was just boring. But I came out of band world where you engaged an audience, where there was something happening in the room from the back row to the front; let’s all go somewhere together. And so I remember doing my first sermon and thinking this is why I’m here. I’m going to reclaim the sermon as this lost art form. For many people in our culture, the sermon is just a belief-affirmation device. Just tell people what they already think so you all can feel smug in your rightness. For other people, the sermon is how you convince people to give money so you can build bigger buildings. For some people, the sermon is just how you get people to vote a certain way.
But you think about Martin Luther King—"I have a dream". Now that’s a sermon. Nobody heard that sermon and then thought, 'I don’t know, he’s usually funnier.' Do you know what I mean? You were either there or you weren't. It was dangerous and comforting and healing and provocative and you learned something and it gave you a new vision for what might be possible—that the sermon is an art form. And in many ways, in our culture, it’s been lost and some of us are trying to reclaim it as this art form that’s somewhere between performance art and guerrilla theater and a TED talk and a recovery meeting and a revival.
And that a sermon is for everyone. The sermon isn’t for a particular people who have already agreed that they all believe a particular, narrow set of things. A sermon is about what it means to be human. And so a sermon is poetry. A sermon is science. A sermon is visual. A sermon is experiential; I’ve set stuff on fire, I’ve had actors planted in the audience, I’ve built solar systems out of exercise balls that we hung from the roof, I’ve used live animals. I’ve done the sermon backward and then forward to make a larger point about time. Everything you can think of I’ve probably tried in relation to a sermon. And right now I do a residency at a club in West Hollywood near where I live, a comedy club called Largo, and I do these hour-and-15-minute, hour-and-30-minute sermons—I guess you call it a sermon, a one-man show, and I want to take you somewhere. And it’s history and it’s anthropology and it’s theology and sometimes it’s funny, and it’s pop culture and it’s data about all kinds of things, and it all mashes together. But we want to be inspired. We want new insight into who we are and who "we" are—we as human beings. Meaning is like oxygen for the soul; we want to know what it means. We want to know where it’s headed. We want to make sense of our past. We want to know how to forgive. We’re looking to make connections because, otherwise, the world is fragmented and fractured. It just comes at you with no narrative thread. And one of the things a sermon does is it connects this to this to this and you walk out of there with a little more sense of centered grounding, like, 'Oh, yeah, that is who we are. That is who I am. That is what we’re doing here.' And that’s, to me, a sermon.
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