I spent a lot of my teen years and early adult years listening to sermons. I can remember less than a handful. Most were speeches, words spoken, admonishments and warnings. Fear mongering. Not many were works of art. The traditional preacher does not approach their craft as an artist with a canvas. That is too much work and requires way too much introspection.
Martin Luther King, Jr. was an artist. It is why we remember. His words, delivered with his cadence and the undeniable reveal of a justice that did not and still does not exist still either lifts us up or makes us very uncomfortable. That is what art does. It exposes not only the artist, which is why it is so hard. It also exposes the audience.
Tony Campolo was an artist. He held the audience with his power to tell a great story, and then hit us with the truth we could not escape. I say “us” because I was one of those souls who felt the truth of his tale. His art penetrated my very young old soul and I was exposed. That exposure forced a shift in my life from a life of comfort to a life of uncomfortable humanitarianism. I sat alone in a room with Reverend Campolo where he smiled compassionately at me and nodded because he knew what I did not. The road ahead would be dangerous. He passed away recently and I wept and wondered who would be the artist now?
There she was. Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde spoke truth to the weakness masquerading as power seated in front of her. Her sermon - her art - of appealing to justice, mercy, and compassion in the most genteel of manners. Exposing the clown and his sidekick for the clown and sidekick they are. They could not avoid the visceral squirms of being exposed. It was almost comical if it was not so serious.
A sermon, when written and delivered well, is a work of art. It is a rare feat. Amanda Gorman comes to mind. Her poetry is sermon, if you allow it to be. She exposes us all. It is not surprising, therefore, that her work is banned now in some places. The exposure is just too much.These are moments when the pulpit becomes a canvas. When the orator becomes a creator. The creation, an expose on all of us. We can either bask in its light, or hide from its truth. Either way, we are exposed.
Art is truth. It finds its way through the maze of our defenses and penetrates us, forcing us to face truth. Forcing us to face ourselves. It exposes us. The truth that Bishop Budde spoke exposed the clown for who he really is. A vindictive, uncompassionate, power-craving despot. A school-yard bully pretending to care. School-yard bullies don’t want to lead anyone or be your friend. They just want to steal your lunch.
This is who we have chosen. This is what we will get. The only way through this next season will be for art and the artists to remind us of our humanity, over and over again. It might cost some of us dearly, because bullies do not like to be exposed. It is what they fear the most, and that fear drives them to violence, every time. They will do whatever they are able to get away with to hide themselves from themselves.
You can watch her sermon here:
Bishop Budde - thank you for your art. You are not alone.
Art. Art on War.
-Andrew Syed
January, 2025
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