One of the most hotly debated elements of yesterday’s Royal Wedding has been the preaching of Archbishop Michael Curry. And that a sermon should produce so much Twitter and other social media traffic is surely a wonderful and, perhaps, unexpected thing. To that extent ++Michael has done the Church, and the Christian faith, a power of good. And insofar as there was a great deal of theology in the sermon, I thoroughly approved of it.
But it falls to the lot of some of us curmudgeons to stand aside from the wave of uncritical approbation, and ask a few questions.
And one of those questions flows immediately from the nature of the ensuing debate: ++Michael’s sermon has polarised opinion fiercely, and it’s been very hard to find comment that isn’t either fawningly admiring, or else bullishly condemnatory. Sadly for me, I suspect, I’m going to try and steer a less black and white course – an expression which has, of course, an irony that does not escape me.
And I think I’ll start there. Is it the perceived ‘blackness’ of ++Michael’s delivery that I and other critics don’t like, can’t understand, or simply can’t stomach? Well, no, in my case, at least, I can say that with confidence – and there are many other posts in this blog that will, I think, give the lie to the idea that I’m some sort of closet racist. I’m necessarily racist to some extent as I’m a white British person and no white British person can claim to be untainted by our history and its assumptions about black people. But I truly do not believe that my misgivings about ++Michael’s sermon are at root racist or cultural. And we would all do well anyway to be cautious about making cultural assumptions based on the colour of a person’s skin.
So if that’s not it, what might be?
I think there are two things that worry me, and they are related.
First, I fear that ++Michael was delivering a sermon that had the task of projecting ++Michael almost as much – or maybe even more – than it had the task of projecting the gospel of God’s love that it, undoubtedly, also sought to do. As I said myself on Twitter, I’m with Ovid in believing that true art is to conceal both art and artist.
And second, it’s the heavy dependence of the sermon on rhetorical devices and bravura. Love, as St Paul reminds us, is “not puffed up”. But I think that sermon was rather puffed up. And it’s this potential disconnect – contradiction even – between the sermon’s message and its mode of delivery which ultimately concerns and discomforts me.
When the delivery and the message are at odds, and the delivery dominates, then the way to manipulation opens up only too enticingly. It’s what orators of all complexions have always done. Fascists such as Hitler and Mussolini, just as much as saintly persons like Martin Luther King referenced early in ++Michael’s sermon, have used rhetoric to promote their cases. And then the question becomes not, “Do you agree with the content?”, but “Does the rhetoric appeal to you?”
We only have to look at the United States to see a leader who has evacuated his delivery of content, and substituted for it a rhetoric which indeed appeals to only too many Americans.
Trump is the doleful result of allowing rhetoric to triumph over content. I do not, of course, accuse ++Michael of purveying content that’s within a light year of Donald Trump’s, but I do worry about the medium so entirely overshadowing the message that almost any message could be slipped in, and hardly be noticed.