Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
September 15, 2024
James 3:1-12

The audio of this sermon can be found here. The video of the full worship service is available on the Trinity Episcopal Church YouTube channel.

The sermon. This moment. It is so strange and wonderful. Everything else I say this morning is, essentially, scripted. I read words out of book for a living. Don’t get me wrong, saying these ancient prayers gives me great joy. But the sermon, the sermon is different. Because there is nowhere to hide. Without a sermon, I could roll out of bed, make it to church just barely on time, and mumble through. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t have to be a Christian, or even a human, to say all those other words. You all could save yourselves the headache of having a priest and just hire a robot. So something tells me that this, this sermon, this moment, is what you are waiting for.

I take that seriously. Yes, my sermons are written out, but they are not scripted by anyone else. I prepare, I read, I study to write these sermons. I expect that you give your best to the Lord Jesus and to the Church; and I think that you should reasonably expect the same of your clergy. So I give you the best of my time, and my preparation, and my writing.

Sometimes people ask me, “when do you start writing your sermons during the week?” The answer is, “Sunday evening.” And I mean that, after church I go home, I listen to the sermon I just preached, I review it, and then I start looking ahead at the next Sunday’s scripture lessons. To start the process all over again. I believe that the preaching task is one of the most serious responsibilities I have. And I take it seriously.

I take it seriously because the scriptures warn me to take it seriously. Think of what we just heard in the Letter of James. “Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness” (James 3:1). I take these words that I preach seriously because I believe the Lord God takes them seriously. Flippancy and unpreparedness are some of the worst qualities in any preacher – ancient or modern. The Letter of James goes on: “If we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we guide their whole bodies. Or look at ships: though they are so large that it takes strong winds to drive them, yet they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs” (James 3:5). We have all known that the rising and falling of many churches are contingent upon what their preacher says. It is awe-inspiring, and frightening, to know that the words I speak impact your faith, your devotion, your discipleship. 

Of course, it’s not just preachers. From your own childhood, you remember the teachers that spoke kindly to you, and the teachers that did not. You remember how it felt to be scolded by a parent, and you remember what it felt like when someone told you that they loved you. Our words have great power, great capacity. And this is something that we all need to take seriously. “For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no one can tame the tongue– a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing” (James 3:7-10a). This is the capacity of human speech.

And consider what human speech has accomplished. The words, “I have a dream” still echo in our hearts (King). We asked ourselves “not what our country could do for us, but what we could do for our country” (Kennedy). We have been inspired by “the better angels of our nature” (Lincoln). Human speech is a gift of God. And also, human speech has destroyed us. Slavery, it was said, “is the cornerstone of our nation” (Stephens). We have created words, names for others that will not be uttered from this pulpit, but you know them all too well. And lies have real world consequences. Truly, human speech is “a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God.”

All these words have been on my mind, especially during this election year, and with the presidential debate that took place on Tuesday. The very fact that we call it a “debate” says something about us. It says that we care more about what is said, than about what is heard. It is not a campaign conversation, it is not a dialogue; it’s a debate. With opponents. With winners and losers. “How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire. The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell” (James 3:5b-6).

And yet, this is how God created us. As humans, with our speech, we have the capacity to create and to destroy. To bless and curse. To love and to sin. To speak and to listen. And that’s the key. We make decisions about when to speak, we have to open our mouths, but we hear all the time. We do not have ear-lids. By nature, we are designed to always be listening. Though we don’t.

Perhaps, then, this sermon is not so much about speaking as it is about listening. Because in truth, I’ve learned, the best preachers are also the best listeners. The best preachers are the ones who listen to the people they lead and they listen to God. Being a good speaker is not about speaking well, it is about listening well. It is about opening your ears and your heart to God and to your neighbor. If you want to tame your tongue, first tune your ears. As God has.

The theological point of this sermon, is that when we speak, God listens. God hears everything. This is about judgment. About the judgment we pass on ourselves by the things we say. Because even if we think that nobody is listening, even if we think that we can tell that joke, even if we think that rumor won’t get around, God is listening. With our words, we can tear people down. With our words, we can build people up. And all the while, God is listening.

So yes, the words I craft for my sermons are careful. Not only because you are listening, but because God is listening. And at the end of the day, I do not climb into this pulpit to please you or to please my own ego – I climb into this pulpit to please God. With every word I speak, with every sermon I write, I know that God is listening to my heart, my soul, and my speech. That is not just about preachers, but about that reverence for human speech that is the burden and the duty of every Christian. 

And finally, after listening to all my words, I hope that truly, this is not what you have come for this morning. For the words of any preacher are prone to error, mistake, and sin – whether we intend it or not. And the words of this human teacher are feeble and frail compared to the mighty speech of the Lord God. For I tell you that one day, who knows when, when I retire and put down my pen, when I have preached my last sermon, I will be in the pews. Like you. To worship and render thanks. To listen to God. For as God is most certainly listening, God is also speaking. Truly, it is to God that we must all listen. Even now. I trust that is why you are here. To listen to God, to be in this space which, for centuries, has heard the words of scripture and these hallowed prayers. We are committed to this place, we are committed to this God, in order receive something far more than what words the preacher happens to muster that week. Week by week, year by year, we gather here not for who is standing in the pulpit, but for the One who dwells in our hearts – the Spirit of the Living God.

References

Lioy, Dan. “The Destructive Power of the Tongue as a Verbum Inefficax: A Canonical-Literary Reading of James 3:1–12 through the Lens of Speech-Act Theory.” Conspectus 35 (January 1, 2023): 25–42. https://doi.org/10.54725/conspectus.2023.1.2.