the ‘After Dinner Speaker’ circuit. Bill Clinton reputedly earned £15 million in his first four years after leaving office, while in December 2007 Tony Blair was commanding up to £200 k for each speaking engagement.4 Clearly Clinton and Blair are at the top end of this particular marketplace, but it is evidence of a thriving industry and of people’s willingness to pay to hear a good speaker. JLA is the UK’s largest agency for ‘Keynote, motivational and after-dinner speakers’. Established in 1990 they carry a list of over 6,000 speakers. This is not a dying industry.
Second, the arrival of Barack Obama onto the American political scene when he spoke at the 2004 Democratic National Convention brought another dimension of public speaking into ‘high relief’: its power to inspire. Drawing on the classical skills of oratory Obama embodied the truth that personal, face-to-face, communication can have a quality and depth to touch the human heart and lift the human spirit. In a very different context on 19 March 2003, Colonel Tim Collins addressed the First Battalion of the Royal Irish Regiment as they prepared to enter Iraq from Kuwait,
We go to liberate not to conquer. We will not fly our flags in their country. We are entering Iraq to free a people and the only flag which will be flown in that ancient land is their own. Show respect for them.5
These are high-profile examples of the power of inspirational addresses. In public and private spheres, in business and the voluntary sector, from campaigning organizations to sports teams, the ability of individuals to speak and inspire those around them has not been lost.
Third, and perhaps a little out of left field, is stand-up comedy. Theo Hobson, writing in The Guardian, makes the link between it and the ‘essential performance-art of our Protestant past: preaching’.6 One voice holds hundreds captive by the power of their speech and creates a sense of unity in the crowd by establishing common points of reference and insight. From the left-wing polemicists of the 1990s to the eclectic themed shows of the Edinburgh Fringe, these contemporary folk heroes among the young are compelling communicators. As Joe Moran observes, also in The Guardian, ‘Great comedy clarifies reality in some way. It changes our perceptions rather than simply confirming them.’7
While there is a gulf between the proclamation of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the anecdotes of the after-dinner speaker and the ironies of life laid bare by the incisive wit of a comedian, the preaching of Christ fulfils that to which these contemporary expressions of communication aspire. Truth is expressed, the heart is inspired and the will is engaged.
Deploying technology and utilizing contemporary communications solutions are also increasingly popular in seeking to enable preaching to engage with its twenty-first-century context. From the introduction of the printing press the Church has always been an early adopter of such technology, seeking ways to deploy it in more effectively communicating the good news of Jesus.
From Microsoft’s first offering of its new PowerPoint software that it acquired with its purchase of Forethought Inc. in the late 1980s, its use has burgeoned within the preaching community. While Jonny Baker astutely observes that most of this usage is about ‘recreating the old world’ by posting the three points or alliterated observations of the sermon on a screen behind the preacher, rather than exploiting the creative opportunities the medium offers, still it is evidence of the life and vitality within preaching as it struggles to engage with a changing context. Movie clips, locally produced ‘vox pops’ and illustrative graphics have all begun to play their part. It is interesting to note that evidence seems to suggest that in the experience of the listening congregation these developments were neither as radical nor as controversial as they were thought to be. Indeed, in rating a sermon, substance always triumphed over presentation and issues of spiritual growth over contemporary relevance (Standing, 2002, p. 58).
Others have begun to explore the possibilities of interactive preaching through texting, Twitter and email. While in some congregations live feeds display questions and comments, in others they are gathered for introduction following the conclusion of the sermon. Reactions are mixed and dilemmas arise. With live feeds, should they be moderated to ensure nothing inappropriate is projected for all to see? Others see it as a dynamic new departure that puts a preacher more fully in touch with their listeners. Then there are questions of inclusion and exclusion, with the ‘techno-literate’ gaining an advantage over against the ‘techno-challenged’ (Charles, 2010, pp. 39–40).
The internet is the other significant technological development of the last 15 years. Large numbers of church websites now routinely post each week’s sermon for download, and many have experimented with live webcasts of their worship services. Mainly servicing their own members who are unable to be present in person, these developments fall into Baker’s category of recreating the old world.
There are also rather more creative online experiments. The virtual congregations of Saint Pixels, Church of Fools, i-Church and the various Christian communities in the virtual world of Second Life all have to wrestle with whether to include a sermon in services and, if so, how. At Saint Pixels, during their real-time services, a separate window appears at sermon time providing a virtual pulpit.
The congregation can take part, and see others taking part, and heckling during the sermon is not unusual. At the same time, everyone can read what is being said ‘from the front,’ which helps to stop large meetings descending into anarchy. In terms of authority, the pulpit also confers a ‘first among equals’ status to the speaker, without in any way censoring other participants. (Howe, 2007, p. 15)
If traditional technology enables us to envisage ‘broad-casting’, the World Wide Web opens up the opportunity to ‘narrow-cast’, to grasp the opportunity to preach to a highly selective community. The Baptist Minister Peter Laws set up the website www.theflicksthatchurchforgot.com/. Using podcasts he has now produced two seasons of gospel presentations to fans of horror movies. His highly targeted preaching presentations include a review and comment on a selected movie and an exploration of the theological themes that it raises. Forums and message boards then allow for interaction and an ongoing conversation. Ministering within a relatively small church, his online community has nearly 600 subscribers with the downloads and streams of his podcasts running into the thousands (Laws, 2010).
It is, in part, paradoxical that in embracing the best of present-day communications technology and therefore seeking what might be considered a more ‘incarnational’ approach to preaching, the preached Word of God loses rather than gains ‘flesh’. The sermon augmented with PowerPoint and video clips reduces the real-life voice of the preacher by complementing it with audiovisual support, while, over the internet, the strength of preaching and worship to build relationships and a sense of community is diminished as they are, in both senses of the word, ‘virtual’.
Yet preaching is more than just adapting to cultural style or tone, identifying contemporary models of monologic communication to fight a rearguard action that stands against the forces of change, or pressing into service the latest technology and gadgety gizmos to give our sermons a sense of pizzazz. If preaching is truly a mediated discipline, then what is conveyed through its mediation must not be lost sight of. It is the Word of God. In and of itself it is neither passive nor inert. Rather, as the writer of the letter to the Hebrews makes clear, it has a life and active vitality of its own. It is penetrative into the very essence of what it means to be human (Heb. 4.12–13).
Monologues may prove to be a poor method of conveying information and an even poorer strategy for delivering education. But it is a mistaken assumption to believe that preaching is primarily about either of these. Neither is it merely about the uplifting experience of spiritual inspiration. As Stephen Holmes observed