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±âµ¶±³ °øµ¿Ã¼´Â ±× ÀÚüÀÇ ¿ª»ç ³»¿¡¼­ °è½ÃÀûÀÎ ¼ø°£À» ±â¾ïÇÏ°í Àֱ⠶§¹®¿¡, ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ¸ðµç »ç°ÇµéÀ» [½ÅÀûÀÎ ÀÚ¾Æ]¸¦ µå·¯³»´Â Çϳª´ÔÀÇ »ç¿ªÀ¸·Î °£ÁÖÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÌ ´ç¿¬Çϸç..., ÀÌ°ÍÀ» [Àΰ£ÀÇ »î] ¼Ó¿¡¼­ ¿ª»çÇϽô Çϳª´ÔÀÇ ¹æ¹ýµé·Î ÃßÀûÇÏ´Â ÀÏÀº¡¦ Áö±ØÈ÷ ´ç¿¬ÇÕ´Ï´Ù. ½Å¾ÓÀ¸·Î »ì¾Æ°¡´Â ±âµ¶±³ °øµ¿Ã¼°¡ ½Ã´ëÀÇ ¸ðµç »ç°ÇµéÀ» ¹Ù¶óº¸°í, °Å±â¼­ ÀÏ°ü¼ºÀÖ´Â »ý°¢°ú ÀÇÁö¸¦ °¡Áø ºÐ[Çϳª´Ô]ÀÇ ¿ª»çÇϽÉÀ» ¹ß°ßÇÏ·Á°í ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ¸¶¶¥ÇÑ ÀÏÀÔ´Ï´Ù. (8)

¼³±³ ´Ü»óÀÇ À̾߱⠳ª´©±â´Â ±âµ¶±³ÀÎÀÇ »îÀ» À§ÇÑ ½ÇÁ¦ ¿¬½ÀÀ̶ó ÇÒ ¼ö Àֱ⠶§¹®¿¡, ÀÌ ¸»Àº µ¿½Ã¿¡ ½ÇÁ¦ÀÇ »î¿¡ ³»ÀçµÇ¾î ÀÖ´Â µµ´öÀû, ½ÅÇÐÀû ¸ðÈ£¼ºµéÀ» ¹«½ÃÇØ ¹ö¸®°í Ʋ¿¡ ¹ÚÈù ¹«¹Ì°ÇÁ¶ÇÑ ¼³±³ÀÚ½ÄÀÇ À̾߱â(preacher stories)¸¦ ÇÑ´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ À±¸®ÀûÀ¸·Î ¾ÆÁÖ ¹«Ã¥ÀÓÇÑ ÀÏÀ̶ó´Â °ÍÀ» ÀǹÌÇÕ´Ï´Ù. Ç×»ó ¿Ã¹Ù¸¥ µµ´öÀû ±³ÈÆÀ» ¸¸µé¾î ³»°Å³ª, ¾Æ¹«·± °¥µî ¾øÀÌ ´Ã ½Â¸®·Î ³¡¸Î´Â ¼³±³ÀÚ½Ä À̾߱âµéÀº Àΰ£ÀÇ »î°ú ±âµ¶±³ ½Å¾Ó¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Áöµ¶ÇÑ °ÅÁþ¸»ÀÔ´Ï´Ù. ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ Àú¼­, ¼º¼­Àû À̾߱⠽ÃÇÐ The Poetics of Biblical Narrative¿¡¼­ ¸¶ÀÌ¾î ½ºÅϹö±× Meir Sternberg´Â, ¼º¼­ÀÇ À̾߱âµé ÀÚü´Â ÀǵµÀûÀ¸·Î ¸ðÈ£Çѵ¥, À̾߱âÀÇ Àǹ̸¦ ÀÌÇØÇÏ·Á°í ÇÏ´Â °úÁ¤ÀÇ ¶¡°ú °í³ú¸¦ ÅëÇÏ¿© ¹Ù·Î ½Å¾ÓÀÌ ÀÚ¿¬½º·¹ Àç»ý»êµÇ¾î ³ª¿À´Â °æ¿ì¸¦ ¸»ÇÏ°í ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù. ±×´Â ¼º¼­ÀÇ À̾߱âµéÀÌ ÀÚ¿¬½º·¯¿î µ¶ÇØÀÇ È帧À» ¹æÇØÇÏ´Â, ¹®ÀÚ ±×´ë·Î, °£±Øµé (gaps)°ú ¹Ì¿Ï¼º°ú, ºÒ¿¬¼ÓÀ¸·Î °¡µæ Â÷ ÀÖÀ½¿¡ ³î¶ú½À´Ï´Ù. ±×´Â ÀÌ·¸°Ô ¸»Çß½À´Ï´Ù:

À̾߱â´Â ¸¶Ä¡ Àå¾Ö¹° ÄÚ½ºÃ³·³ µÇ¾î Àֱ⠶§¹®¿¡, ±×°ÍÀ» µ¶ÇØÇÏ´Â °ÍÀº ÇϳªÀÇ ±ØÀûÀÎ ÀÌÇØ °úÁ¤—Áï, Ãß·Ð, º¯µ¿, ¹ÝÀü, ¹ß°ß°ú Àüü »çÀÌÀÇ °¥µî—À¸·Î º¸¸é µË´Ï´Ù. ¿ÏÀüÇÏ°Ô È¹µæµÇ´Â À¯ÀÏÇÑ Áö½ÄÀº ¿ì¸®°¡ °¡Áø ÇÑ°è ³»¿¡¼­ÀÇ Áö½ÄÀÔ´Ï´Ù. µ¶ÀÚ°¡ °á±¹ Çϳª´Ô Ȧ·Î ¸ðµç °ÍÀ» ¾Ë°í °è½Å ±× ºñÀüÀÇ ÀϺθ¦ ¾Ë ¼ö ÀÖ°Ô µÇ´Â °ÍÀº ¿ÀÁ÷ Áö¼ÓÀûÀÎ ³ë·Â¿¡ ÀÇÇؼ­ ÀÔ´Ï´Ù: ³íÁö¸¦ ÀÌÇØÇÏ°Ô µÈ´Ù´Â °ÍÀº Àΰ£ÀÌ µÇ¾î°¡´Â °¨°¢À» ¾ò°Ô µÈ´Ù´Â ¸»ÀÔ´Ï´Ù. (9)

Ķºó(Calvin)ÀÌ ±×·¯ÇßµíÀÌ, º¹À½À» ÀüÇÏ´Â ¼³±³°¡ ¡°¾Æ´ã°ú ÇÏ¿ÍÀÇ ÀÚ³àµéÀÌ ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ ÀÚ³àµé·Î µÇ´Â¡± (10) ¼ö´ÜÀ̶ó¸é, ¿ì¸®´Â Á¤Á÷ÇÏ°Ô µÎ Á¾·ù ÀÚ³àµéÀÇ °æÇè´ã ¸ðµÎ¸¦ ¸»ÇØ¾ß ÇÒ °ÍÀÔ´Ï´Ù. ¾Æ´ã°ú ÇÏ¿ÍÀÇ ÀÚ³à¿Í ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ ÀÚ³à, ºñ±ØÀÇ À̾߱â¿Í Èñ¸ÁÀÇ À̾߱â, ±×¸®°í Ã߷аú º¯µ¿°ú ¹ÝÀü°ú ¹ß°ßÀÇ °¥µî À̾߱⠸»ÀÔ´Ï´Ù. µµ´öÀûÀÎ »î¿¡¼­ ÀÌÀÍ°ú ¼ÕÇØ¿¡ °üÇÏ¿© Á¤Á÷ÇÏ°í, ¸ðÈ£¼º°ú °¥µîÀÇ ¿ÍÁß¿¡¼­ ½ÅÇÐÀûÀÎ Àǹ̸¦ ãÀ¸·Á°í ¾¾¸§ÇÏ´Â Çö´ëÀûÀÎ ¼³±³ À̾߱âµéÀº ÀÏ»óÀÇ Æò¹üÇÑ À̾߱⠼ӿ¡¼­ ±âµ¶±³ÀεéÀÌ ¸¶¶¥È÷ ÇàÇÒ ¹Ù¸¦ ±¸Ã¼ÀûÀ¸·Î º¸¿©ÁÝ´Ï´Ù..
¼³±³ÀÇ À̾߱âµéÀº ±âµ¶±³ÀÎÀÇ »îÀ» ½ÇÁ¦ÀûÀ¸·Î ¿¬½ÀÇÏ°Ô ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀÏ »Ó ¾Æ´Ï¶ó, ȸÁßÀ» À§ÇÑ À̾߱âµéÀÇ Á¤°æÈ­ ÀÛ¾÷ (working canon of narratives)À» Çü¼ºÇϵµ·Ï µ½½À´Ï´Ù. ½ºÅÙ¸® ÇÏ¿ì¾î¿öÁî (Stanley Hauerwas)¿Í µ¥À̺ø ºä·¼(David Burrell) Àº ¿ì¸® °¢ÀÚ°¡ ÀÏ·ÃÀÇ Á¤°æÀûÀÎ À̾߱âµé¿¡ ÁØÇؼ­ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ È®½ÅÀÇ »îÀ» Çü¼ºÇØ °£´Ù´Â Á¡¿¡ ´ëÇØ °­Á¶ÇÏ°í ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù. (11) ³ª´Â ȸÁßµéÀÌ ÀÏ·ÃÀÇ Á¤°æÀû À̾߱âµé(canonical narratives)À» °¡Áö°í ÀÖ´Ù´Â »ç½ÇÀ» ¾Ë°í ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù. ÀÌ Á¤°æÀû À̾߱âµé¿¡ ´ëÇؼ­ ½ÅÇÐÀÚ ¸¶ÀÌŬ ¿þÄ¿ (Michael Welker)´Â ¡°Áö¼ÓÀûÀÎ »óÈ£ ÀÛ¿ë¿¡ ÀÇÇÏ¿© ¸ðµÎ°¡ »óÈ£ÀÇÁ¸ÀûÀ¸·Î ¿¬°üµÇ¾î ÀÖ´Â ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ ÇöÁ¸¿¡ °üÇÑ ¼ö¸¹Àº °üÁ¡µéÀ» ÇѲ¨¹ø¿¡ ¿¬°áÇØ ÁÖ´Â »ì¾ÆÀÖ´Â ¹®È­Àû¡¦ Á¤°æÀû ±â¾ï¡± (12)À¸·Î ¸í¸íÇÏ¿´½À´Ï´Ù. ±× ÇÙ½É ¼Ó¿¡´Â ¼º¼­ÀÇ ±â¾ïµéÀÌ ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù—Çϳª´Ô²²¼­ Çϴÿ¡ ºûÀ» ºñÃß±â À§ÇÏ¿© ÇØ¿Í ´ÞÀ» ºÒ·¯³»½Å ±â¾ïµé, Çϳª´Ô ¾Õ¿¡ ¼± Àΰ£µéÀÇ ±â¾ïµé, Áï »ç¶óÀÇ ¿ôÀ½°ú, ½½ÇÄÀ¸·Î ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °¡½¿À» Ä¡´Â ´ÙÀ­, ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ÀϵéÀ» ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¸¶À½ ¼Ó¿¡ ´ã¾Æ µÎ¾ú´ø ¸¶¸®¾Æ, ¾î¸°À̵éÀ» ÃູÇϽŠ¿¹¼ö´Ô, Æļ± ´çÇÑ ¹Ù¿ï¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ±â¾ïµé. ±×·¯³ª ȸÁßµéÀº ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ¼º¼­ÀÇ ÇÙ½ÉÀûÀÎ À̾߱⠼ӿ¡ ÀڽŵéÀÇ À̾߱⸦ µ¡ºÙÀÔ´Ï´Ù.
³ª´Â ¾ÆƲ¶õŸÀÇ ¿Ü°ûÁö¿ª, ±× ´ç½Ã ½Ã°ñ Áö¿ªÀ̾ú´ø °÷¿¡¼­ ³óºÎµé°ú ±³»çµé·Î ±¸¼ºµÈ Àڱ׸¶ÇÑ È¸Áß °¡¿îµ¥ ¼ºÀåÇß½À´Ï´Ù. ¾î´À ÁÖÀÏ ³¯, ¿¹¹èÇÏ´Â ÇÑ Áß°£¿¡, ¿ì¸®°¡ Àü¿¡ ¾ËÁö ¸øÇß´ø ÇÑ ³²¼ºÀÌ ±³È¸ÀÇ µÞ¹®À» ÅëÇÏ¿© ºÒ¾¦ ³ªÅ¸³µ½À´Ï´Ù. ¸ðµç ±³ÀÎÀÇ ´«ÀÌ ±×¸¦ ÇâÇÏÀÚ, ±×´Â ±³È¸ÀÇ Ãø¸é º¹µµ µû¶ó °É¾î°¬½À´Ï´Ù. ±×°¡ ´©±¸¿´À»±î¿ä? ¿ì¸®´Â ¼­ºÎ ö·Î(the Southern Railroad) ºÎ±Ù¿¡ ÀÖ¾ú°í, ±×´Â ¾Æ¸¶µµ ±âÂ÷ ö·Î ÀÛ¾÷¿¡ ÅõÀÔµÈ À¯¶û ÀϲÛÀ̾úÀ» °ÍÀÔ´Ï´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â °í¼Óµµ·Î ¿·¿¡ ÀÖ¾ú½À´Ï´Ù. ±×´Â ¾Æ¸¶µµ ºÏÂÊÀ¸·Î °¡´Â ¾ð´ö¿¡¼­ Â÷¸¦ ¾ò¾î Ÿ°í ¿ÔÀ» Áöµµ ¸ð¸¨´Ï´Ù. ±×´Â ¿ì¸®¸¦ ÀÀ½ÃÇß°í, ¿ì¸®´Â ±×¸¦ ÀÀ½ÃÇß½À´Ï´Ù. ¸ñ»ç´ÔÀÌ ¼³±³¸¦ ¸ØÃß°í ±×¸¦ ¹Ù¶ó º¸¾Ò½À´Ï´Ù. ±×´Â µÚµ¹¾Æ º¸¾Ò½À´Ï´Ù. °©Àڱ⠾߸©ÇÑ Ç¥Á¤ÀÌ ±×ÀÇ ¾ó±¼À» ½ºÃÄ Áö³ª°¬½À´Ï´Ù. ±×¸®°í ´Ù½Ã´Â ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô º¸ÀÌÁö ¾Êµµ·Ï ¹®¹ÛÀ¸·Î Æ¢¾î ³ª°¬½À´Ï´Ù.
¸î ÁÖ µ¿¾È, ¿¹¹è°¡ ³¡³­ Èĸ¶´Ù, ¾î¸¥µéÀº ±³È¸ÀÇ ¾Õ¸¶´ç¿¡ ÀÖ´Â ³ª¹« ¾Æ·¡¿¡ ¸ð¿© µé¾ú½À´Ï´Ù. ±×µéÀº ±×¶§ ÀÏ¾î ³µ´ø ÀÏ¿¡ ´ëÇØ ³íÀïÇÏ°í ³í¹ÚÇß½À´Ï´Ù. ±×µéÀº °á±¹ ºÓÀº ÁøÈëÀÌ º£¿©ÀÖ´Â ÁÒÁö¾Æ ³óºÎµé ½ÄÀÇ ½ÅÇÐÀûÀÎ ÇÕÀÇ¿¡ À̸£·¶½À´Ï´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº ÇÑ ¹æ¶ûÀÚ°¡ ¿ì¸®ÀÇ ¿¹¹è¸¦ ¹æÇØÇß´Ù´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¾ú½À´Ï´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº Çϳª´ÔÀÌ ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô ÇÑ À̹æÀÎÀ» º¸³»¼Ì°í, ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ì¸®°¡ ¸¶¶¥È÷ Çؾ߸¸ Çß´ø ´ë·Î ¹ÝÀÀÇÏÁö ¸øÇ߱⠶§¹®¿¡, °á±¹, ±× À±¸®Àû ½ÃÇè¿¡ ½ÇÆÐÇÏ°í ¸»¾Ò´Ù´Â °ÍÀ̾ú½À´Ï´Ù.
ÀÌ °æÇè¿¡¼­ ³ª¿Â À̾߱â´Â ¿ì¸® ȸÁßµéÀÇ Áö¹æÀûÀÎ Á¤°æÀÇ ÀϺΰ¡ µÇ¾ú°í, ¿ì¸® ¿¬¾àÇÔÀÇ »ó±â¹°ÀÌÀÚ, ¿ì¸®ÀÇ À±¸®ÀûÀÎ »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¾È³»¼­°¡ µÇ¾ú½À´Ï´Ù. ¿ì¸®´Â ¸ô¶úÁö¸¸, ±âµ¶±³È¸°¡ ÀÌ¹Ì ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ °æÇèÀ» ±³È¸ ÀÚüÀÇ À̾߱âÀûÀÎ Á¤°æ¿¡ ÷°¡Çß¾ú´Ù´Â »ç½ÇÀ» ¾Ë°Ô µÇ°í¼­µµ ¿ì¸®¿¡°Ô´Â ±×´ÙÁö ³î¶ö ÀÏÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï¾ú½À´Ï´Ù. 3¼¼±âÀÇ ±³¸®ÀûÀÎ ¹®¼­ÀÎ, µð´ÙÄÉ (Didascalia)´Â ÀÌ·¸°Ô Ç¥ÇöÇÏ°í ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù:

¸¸¾à ºó±ÃÇÑ ³²ÀÚ³ª ¿©ÀÚ°¡ ¿¹±âÄ¡ ¾Ê°Ô µé¾î ¿Í¼­¡¦, ¾ÉÀ» ÀÚ¸®°¡ ¾ø´Ù¸é, ºñ·Ï ³Ê ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ ¶¥ ¹Ù´Ú¿¡ ¾É´Â´Ù ÇÏ´õ¶óµµ¡¦ ÁÖ±³ÀÎ ³×°¡ Àü½ÉÀ» ´ÙÇØ ÀÚ¸®¸¦ ¸¸µé¾î ÁÖ¾î¶ó¡¦ ³ÊÀÇ »ç¿ªÀÌ Çϳª´Ô ¾Õ¿¡ ±â»µÇϽÉÀ» ÀÔÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù. (13)

¸¶Áö¸·À¸·Î, ¼³±³´Ü»ó À̾߱⠳ª´©±âÀÇ À±¸®´Â ¿ì¸®°¡ ±³È¸ÀÇ Á¤°æÀ» ÷°¡ÇØ °¡µµ·Ï Çϸç, ¶ÇÇÑ ¿ì¸® ¹®È­¿¡¼­´Â ±â¾ïµÇÁö ¸øÇÏ°í, ÃàÇϹÞÁöµµ ¸øÇÏ°í, ´Ù¸¥ ¾î´À °÷¿¡¼­µµ Áø½Ç·Î ¼­¼úµÇÁö ¸øÇÏ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀÇ À̾߱âµéÀ» ±³È¸ÀÇ ±â¾ï ¼Ó¿¡¼­ »ý»ýÇÏ°Ô À¯ÁöÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖµµ·Ï ¿äûÇÕ´Ï´Ù. Æú ¸®²Ò¸£ (Paul Ricoeur)´Â ¡°¿ì¸®°¡ À̾߱⸦ ÇÏ´Â ÀÌÀ¯´Â ÃÖÁ¾ÀûÀÎ ºÐ¼®¿¡¼­ Àΰ£ÀÇ »î¿¡ ±×°ÍÀ» ÇÊ¿ä·Î ÇÏ°í, ¼­¼úµÉ ¸¸ÇÑ °¡Ä¡°¡ Àֱ⠶§¹®ÀÔ´Ï´Ù. ÆйèÀÚ¿Í »ó½ÉÇÑ ÀÚÀÇ ¿ª»ç¸¦ ±¸Çس»´Â °ÍÀº ÇÊ¿ä ºÒ°¡°áÇÑ ÀÏÀÔ´Ï´Ù. °íÅëÀÇ ¿ª»ç Àüü´Â¡¦ À̾߱⸦ ¿ä±¸ÇÏ°í ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù.¡± (14)
±â²¯Çؾß, ¼³±³¿¡¼­ÀÇ À̾߱âÀû Ã浿Àº º¹À½ÀÇ ¼º°Ý°ú, ¸ð¾ç°ú, Àνķп¡ ´ëÇÑ ½É¿ÀÇÑ °¨°¢¿¡¼­ ÀÚ¶ó°Ô µË´Ï´Ù. ¸¸¾à ¼³±³°¡ ±³È¸¿Í ¸»¾¸, ûÃëÀÚµé°ú º¹À½ »çÀÌÀÇ ¼º·ÊÀüÀûÀÎ ¸¸³²ÀÇ Àå¼Ò¶ó¸é, ¼³±³ÀÇ º»ÁúÀº ¼º°æ°ú ÀºÃÑÀÇ Ç¥½Ä ÇÏ¿¡¼­ÀÇ Àΰ£ °æÇè¿¡ ÀÇÇØ ±¸¼ºµÇ´Âµ¥, ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ¾ç»ó ¸ðµÎ°¡ ¼­¼úÀ» ¿äûÇÏ°í ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù.
±×·¯³ª Áö±Ý¿¡ À̸£·¯, ÀýÁ¦µÇ°í, ¼öÁ¤µÇ°í, ½ÅÇÐÀûÀ¸·Î ´õ ¿¹¹ÎÇÏ°í, ¼º¼­ÀûÀ¸·Î ´õ È£°¨À» ÁÖ´Â À̾߱âü ¼³±³ Çü½ÄÀº ¿µ¿øÇϸç, ¿µ¿øÈ÷ °è¼ÓÇؼ­ »ì¾Æ³²°Ô µÉ °ÍÀÔ´Ï´Ù. ¾Æ¸¶µµ ÀÌ¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °¡Àå ½Å·ÚÇÒ ¸¸ÇÑ Ã´µµ´Â ±×·¯ÇÑ ¼³±³¿¡ ÀÇÇÏ¿©, ±³È¸ÀÇ »îÀÌ ´õ¿í ´õ dz¼ºÇØ Áö´ÂÁö ¾Æ´ÑÁö ´Þ·ÁÀÖ°í, ¶Ç ÀڽŵéÀÌ ±×¸®½ºµµÀÇ Çü»óÀ¸·Î Á¡Á¡ ´õ Áö¾îÁ® °¡´Â °ÍÀ» ¹Ù¶óº¼ ¼ö ÀÖ´ÂÁöÀÇ ¿©ºÎÀÔ´Ï´Ù. ½Å½ÇÇÑ ¼³±³´Â À̾߱⠽ð£ÀÌ ¾Æ´Õ´Ï´Ù; ´ë½Å¿¡ ±×°ÍÀº ¿ë±â ÀÖ´Â ½Å¾Ó °£Áõ °øµ¿Ã¼ÀÇ ÇÑ °¡¿îµ¥¼­ ¼±Æ÷µÇ´Â ¸»¾¸ÀÔ´Ï´Ù. ±×·¯ÇÑ ¼³±³´Â ÀڽŵéÀÇ ½Å¾Ó¿¡ ´ëÇÏ¿© ±×µéÀÇ ÀÚ³àµé¿¡°Ô À̾߱âÇØ ÁÖ°í, Çϳª´ÔÀÇ ³î¶ó¿ì½Å °ü´ëÇÔ¿¡ ´ëÇØ ¼¼»ó¿¡¼­ ÁõÀÎÀÌ µÇ´Â ¼ºµµµéÀÇ »îÀÇ ¾îÈÖ¿Í, Ä£ÀýÈ÷ ¸»ÇÏ´Â ½ºÅ¸ÀÏ°ú, °â¼Õ°ú, °£±¸ÇÏ´Â ±âµµ¿Í, ¸ðÈ£¼º¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Àνİú, Àڽۨ ÀÖ´Â Èñ¸Á°ú, º¹À½À¸·Î ¼­¼úµÈ ¸ð½ÀÀ» ±¸Ã¼ÀûÀ¸·Î Á¦½ÃÇØ ÁÝ´Ï´Ù.



. Fred B. Craddock, OverhearingtheGospel:PreachingandTeachingtheFaithtoPersonsWhoHaveAlreadyHeard(Nashville:AbingdonPress,1978),9etpassim.
2. Edmund Steimle, Morris J. Niedenthal, and Charles L. Rice, PreachingtheStory(Philadelphia:FortressPress,1980),pp.12-13.
3. Reynolds, ¡°From Doctrine to Narrative,¡± 480.
4. Richard Lischer, ¡°The Limits of Story,¡± Interpretation38/1(January,1984),36.
5. James W. Thomspon, PreachingLikePaul:HomileticalWisdomforToday(Louisville:WestminsterJohnKnox,2001),pp.9-14.
6. Charles L. Campbell, PreachingJesus:NewDirectionsforHomileticsinHansFrei=s Postliberal Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,1997), pp. 192-193.
7. John S. McClure, Other-wisePreaching:APostmodernEthicforHomiletics(St.Louis:ChalicePress,2001),p.81.
8. H. Richard Niebuhr, ¡°The Story of Our Life,¡± excerpted from TheMeaningofRevelationinStanleyHauerwasandL.GregoryJones(eds),WhyNarrative?ReadingsinNarrativeTheology(GrandRapids:Eerdmans,1989),42.
9. Meir Sternberg, ThePoeticsofBiblicalNarrative(Bloomington:
10. B.A. Gerrish, GraceandGratitude:TheEucharisticTheologyofJohnCalvin(Philadelphia;FortressPress,1993), p. 89.
11. StanleyHauerwasandDavidBurrell,¡°FromSystemtoStory:AnAlternativePatternforRationalityinEthics,¡±inHauerwasandJones,WhyNarrative?,190.
12. Michael Welker, ¡°Resurrection and Eternal Life: The Canonic Memory of the Resurrected Christ, His Reality, and His Glory,¡± in John Polkinghorne and Michael Welker (eds), TheEndoftheWorldandtheEndsofGod:ScienceandTheologyonEschatology(Harrisburg,PA:TrinityPressInternational,2000),287
13. Didascalia2.58.6ascitedinGordonLathrop,HolyThings:ALiturgicalTheology(Minneapolis:FortressPress,1993),120.
14. Paul Ricoeur, TimeandNarrative,Vol.1(Chicago:UniversityofChicagoPress,1984),75.



. Fred B. Craddock, OverhearingtheGospel:PreachingandTeachingtheFaithtoPersonsWhoHaveAlreadyHeard(Nashville:AbingdonPress,1978),9etpassim.
. Edmund Steimle, Morris J. Niedenthal, and Charles L. Rice, PreachingtheStory(Philadelphia:FortressPress,1980),pp.12-13.
. Reynolds, AFrom Doctrine to Narrative,@ 480.
. Richard Lischer, AThe Limits of Story,@ Interpretation38/1(January,1984),36.
. James W. Thomspon, PreachingLikePaul:HomileticalWisdomforToday(Louisville:WestminsterJohnKnox,2001),pp.9-14.
. Charles L. Campbell, PreachingJesus:NewDirectionsforHomileticsinHansFrei=s Postliberal Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,1997), pp. 192-193.
. John S. McClure, Other-wisePreaching:APostmodernEthicforHomiletics(St.Louis:ChalicePress,2001),p.81.
. H. Richard Niebuhr, AThe Story of Our Life,@ excerpted from TheMeaningofRevelationinStanleyHauerwasandL.GregoryJones(eds),WhyNarrative?ReadingsinNarrativeTheology(GrandRapids:Eerdmans,1989),42.
. Meir Sternberg, ThePoeticsofBiblicalNarrative(Bloomington:
. B.A. Gerrish, GraceandGratitude:TheEucharisticTheologyofJohnCalvin(Philadelphia;FortressPress,1993), p. 89.
. StanleyHauerwasandDavidBurrell,AFrom System to Story: An Alternative Pattern for Rationality in Ethics,@ in Hauerwas and Jones, WhyNarrative?,190.

. Michael Welker AResurrection and Eternal Life: The Canonic Memory of the Resurrected Christ, His Reality, and His Glory,@ in John Polkinghorne and Michael Welker (eds), TheEndoftheWorldandtheEndsofGod:ScienceandTheologyonEschatology(Harrisburg,PA:TrinityPressInternational,2000),287
13. Didascalia2.58.6ascitedinGordonLathrop,HolyThings:ALiturgicalTheology(Minneapolis:FortressPress,1993),120.
14. Paul Ricoeur, TimeandNarrative,Vol.1(Chicago:UniversityofChicagoPress,1984),75.



Preaching in a Windstorm: Preaching Faces Cultural Challenges


Not long ago, in my basic course in preaching, I had a piece of pedagogy blow up in my face. I was playing the recording of what I consider to be an absolutely superb sermon by one of America¡¯s most accomplished preachers. I have been using this same sermon in class for nearly a decade as an exquisite, state-of-the-art example of creative sermon form. One of the many virtues of this sermon is the way it uses stories, contemporary narratives, not as ornaments or mere illustrations but as theological fiber and muscle empowering the dance of the sermon¡¯ s movement. In fact, this sermon ends with four brief, incandescent narratives, each cut like a gem, each performing its own unique task of advancing the sermon toward a stunning conclusion. It is a masterly example of the preaching craft, and it never fails to generate not only learning but admiration.
But not this time. To my surprise, the sermon left many of the students cold. They were bored and disoriented, particularly by the narratives. ¡°Too many stories,¡± said one of the students. ¡°I felt overwhelmed by them.¡± Another student, who had I think may have missed the subtler shades of meaning, complained, ¡°Why didhetellallthosestoriesattheend?Iwas,like,¡®Comeon!Igotthepointafterthefirstone.¡¯¡±



At one level, of course, these were simply the responses of one group of students with their own preferences, their own reactions, their own peculiar group chemistry, and their negative responses generated a good conversation about style and listening. At another level, though, as I watched this young generation of students shrug their shoulders in bewilderment over what is, technically speaking, a homiletical tourdeforce,abeautifullycraftednarrativesermon, I wondered if I was watching the canary die in the coal mine. For nearly fifty years, some form of narrative preaching has been the prevailing style in the American pulpit, and a similar shift, I am told, is occurring here and there in Europe and Korea, but that approach to preaching is now beginning to take on water. It is being roundly challenged from many directions, including the underwhelming response of younger hearers like my students. We may well be in the midst of one of those seismic shifts in preaching style that occur periodically and which are expressions of deeper changes in culture, theology, and religious life, and my students that day may have been a generational barometer registering the drop in atmospheric pressure.

The Rise of Narrative Preaching
The shift in preaching in response to changing trends and issues in the culture – from teaching sermons to narrative sermons to¡¦.something new in the face of the cultural storm we are now facing – is instructive and worth tracing. In the early 1950s, much of mainline Protestant preaching was highly didactic. It was in most ways a continuation of the ¡°missionary style¡± of preaching which introduced to Korea in the 19thcentury.SermonswereviewedasinstrumentsofinstructionaboutthegreatthemesoftheChristianfaith.Sermonswerebiblicalinaway,butweremostnotablytakenupwithbigprinciplesanddoctrinalpropositions.Almostallofthemajorpreachingtextbooksrecommendedthatsermonsbe,liketermpapersandacademiclectures,logical,orderly,balanced,andsymmetrical,withclearlydemarcatedpointsandsub-points.
Things were tidy in the classroom, but all was not well in the actual pulpit. Although American churches in the 50s, like Korean churches in the last generation, were mostly full of worshipers, preachers sensed a background hum of boredom. People were in worship and they were smiling, but they were not listening, not to the sermons anyway. And to be honest, much of the preaching of that era was not worth listening to. The imagination and intellectual energy had leaked out of much of popular Christianity, and there was a kind of listlessness in the pulpit.


So, with the people bored and sermons not connecting, a distress signal went out from pulpits to homileticians, and starting in the mid-50s, quietly a revised approach to preaching was born, both in theory and in practice. The first wave to break on the shore was H. Grady Davis¡¯s 1958 preaching textbook DesignforPreachinginwhichhearguedthatpreachersshouldnolongerthinkofsermonsasdidacticargumentswithorderlypointsbutaslivingorganisms,moving,dynamic,growing,inotherwords,apreachershouldimagineasermonmorelikeashortstorythanalegalbrief.DesignforPreachingfeltlikeafreshbreeze,anditbecamethemostpopularpreachingtextbookinAmericanseminariesforfifteenyears.In1971,FredCraddockpublishedthelittlebookAsOneWithoutAuthority,arguablythemostinfluentialmonographonpreachinginourtime.Craddockcalledforpreacherstoabandonthetop-down,deductive,¡°mythesisforthismorning¡±approachtosermonsinfavorofsuspenseful,inductive,narrativesofdiscovery.Preachersweretostoptellingpeoplewhatthesermonwasaboutintheintroductionandwereinsteadtolurepeoplealongonajourneyofexplorationandsurprisewithreal-lifestoriesandquestionstotheplacewheretheycouldexclaim¡°Aha!Igetit¡±attheendofthesermon.


In his Beecher Lectures, delivered in 1978, Craddock extended his emphasis on story preaching. He built his lectures around a line from Soren Kierkegaard: ¡°There is no lack of information in a Christian land; something else is lacking, and this is something which the one [person] cannot directly communicate to the other.¡±CraddocktookKierkegaard¡¯sobservationaboutDenmarkinthee19thcenturytobealsoanaptdescriptionoftheAmericanProtestantlandscapeinthe1970s.Thereisnolackofinformation;wehavebeentaughttothepointofsuffocation.Whatislackingissomethingelse:personal,existentialengagementwiththegospel.Andthatcannotbecommunicateddirectly--pointone,pointtwo,pointthree--butonlyindirectlythroughinduction,story,andmetaphor.
In 1980, another teacher of preaching, Eugene Lowry published the widely used and enormously influential preaching textbook TheHomileticalPlot,whichclaimedthatwhatreallygetshearersexcitedisnotlearningaboutideasbutresolvingambiguity,and,thus,goodsermonsshouldbebuiltonthechassisofanarrativeplotthatmovessequentiallyfromstirringupambiguitytoresolvingit,fromconflicttoclimaxtodenouement.
The authors of one state-of-the-art textbook from this period, aptly called PreachingtheStory,engagedinabitofrhetoricalflourishbydeclaringthattheyweresearchingaroundfortheperfectmasterimagetogatherupthewholeofthepreachingtaskinasinglestitch.¡°Wearetrying,¡±theysaid,

to find that formative image that could both articulate what preaching is and free people to do it. Is there an image adequate to shape the form, content, and style of preaching? If we had to say, in a word or two, or in a picture, what preaching is and how it is done well, what would that phrase or picture be? ... Let us consider the storyteller. ... If we were pressed to say what Christian faith and life are, we could hardly do better than hearing,telling,andlivingastory.Andifaskedforashortdefinitionofpreaching,couldwedobetterthansharedstory?



The world of preaching was tilting on its axis, and a whole cottage industry of books on the new narrative style -- story preaching, metaphors, images, and plots -- mushroomed. Dialogue sermons, short-story sermons, first-person sermons, image-rich sermons, autobiographically confessional sermons, and more, abounded. The varieties were endless, but all of them variations on the notion that good preaching was somehow story-shaped, story-saturated, story-driven.
American preaching in this period was actually fighting on two fronts. There was the miasma of boredom rising from the pews but there was also, especially in the late 60s and early 70s, a nagging suspicion about the usefulness of the whole preaching enterprise building among the clergy themselves. In the social upheavals of the times, nothing seemed more presumptuous, antiquated, irrelevant, and hopelessly authoritarian than the act of preaching. Hang out a shingle as a pastoral therapist or get out in the streets as an agent of social change, but don¡¯t waste your time fogging up the sanctuary by preaching. Many seminaries during this period eliminated required courses in preaching. So, the idea of a kinder, gentler, more engaging story style of preaching brought an infusion of energy, excitement, and purpose to a dispirited pulpit, and the narrative approach was seized like a life preserver.


The American church had grown weary of the ¡°pulpit princes¡± with their big voices and big egos and their abstract principles and their dramatic gestures and their teachy sermons and their overblown moral lessons. The times were ripe for change, and along come these preachers with their winsome styles and different voices and ability to see the biblical characters as people with ordinary lives who lived in the next neighborhood. These preachers sounded less like pulpit royalty and more like a wise friends having a conversation and telling stories of real life.
Augustine said, in the very first homiletical textbook in the history of the church, DeDoctrinaChristiana,BookIV,thatthepurposeofasermonisAto teach, to delight, and to persuade." He borrowed that line from Cicero, but Augustine lassoed it and corralled it into a Christian thought. The first responsibility of a preacher, he said, is to teach the content of the gospel, but the content needs to be taught not pedantically but delightfully, taught in such a way that it excites the imagination and inflames the heart. If the gospel is taught delightfully, then it will be persuasive, by which Augustine meant that it will open up ways of being and living ethically in the world. When the substance of the gospel is taught with imagination, then the Christian life becomes an imaginable possibility. When Augustine preached, what he wanted to hear at the door of the church was not, ¡°Thank you for your little talk,¡± but ¡°I learned something this morning, I was moved by what you said, and I intend to do something about it.¡± To teach, to delight, and to persuade.


Augustine was describing the goals of individual sermons -- to teach, delight, and persuade -- but he also inadvertently described seasons in the history of preaching. There are cultural moments that require the inflection to slant this way or that. There are times when the pulpit needs to become a lectern, and the emphasis falls on teaching the people, and there are times of urgent crisis when the pulpit raises even higher the prophet¡¯s torch and the voice of preaching becomes commandingly ethical. But what has happened since the mid-1950s is that American preaching has been basking in a season of delight. In the middle of the 20thcentury,AmericanChristianitywasboredanddisengaged.Peoplehadbeentaughtwellbutnotenchanted.Peoplehadheardtheinstructionandthemoralinjunctionsofthefaith.Whattheyweremissingwasdelight.

Narrative Preaching Faces the Critics
Every wave of narrative preaching generates critics. John Wesley warned his story-telling colleagues not to be feeding people narrative ¡°sweetmeats¡± and ¡°cordials,¡± and, commenting on the emotionalism of the late 19thcenturyandthenarrativestylethatcarriedit,HenrySteeleCommagerremarkedthat¡°duringthenineteenthcenturyreligionprosperedinAmericawhiletheologywentslowlybankrupt.¡±
And as for the narrative revival in our time, from the very beginning, there were doubters.


At the height of interest in story preaching, Richard Lischer of Duke Divinity School warned that preaching is like a dinghy tied to a ship¡¯s stern that takes on all the flotsam of culture that washes from the ship¡¯s wake. Lischer predicted that we would one day grow tired of narrative. ¡°How long after theology has tired of story and our culture has grown bored with finding itself will preaching be burdened by the weight of this cargo that washed aboard one stormy night in the seventies?¡±
These critics, however, were lonely voices. But now, a chorus of critics has begun to sing, and story preaching has come under fire from the theological right, the theological middle, and the theological left. You will have to name for yourselves where Korean preaching is on this line of development, but we have seen in America preaching evolve from teaching to story to a new cultural crisis. I suspect the same seasons of development have been, or will be, yours, too.
From the right, evangelicals were slow to warm to story preaching and quick to cool to it. Even though narrative preaching made inroads into the evangelical world, they were always nervous that story preaching was too soft, too doctrinally unclear, too ethically ambiguous, and too shy about evangelism. Recently, James W. Thompson at Abilene Christian University, has done a very sophisticated critique of narrative homiletics from an evangelical perspective. Narrative homiletics, he charges, wrongly assumes a Christian culture already in place, focuses on the form of the sermon to the neglect of the larger theological aims of the sermon, limits the capacities of hearers to think rationally and reflectively about the faith, is reluctant to press demands for ethical change, and is weak at building and sustaining communities of faith.


Critics in the middle have also begun to realize that narrative preaching may work well in a church that is informed but bored, but not so well in a theologically amnesiac culture. Kierkegaard in the 19thcenturyandCraddockinthe1970smayhaveclaimedthat¡°thereisnolackofinformationinaChristianland,¡±butnowthereisalackofinformation,anditisn¡¯taChristianland. Story sermons depend largely upon evocation, they blow narrative breath on the coals of latent knowledge and conviction, and they work best among people who have been well taught but who lack delight. But in a culture in which those memories, convictions, and churchly patterns are not there to evoke and revivify, narrative preaching can easily end up being like a massage at a spa, a pleasurable aesthetic experience without content or goal.
Another charge from the middle against story preaching comes from Charles L. Campbell. In his powerfully argued book PreachingJesus,heclaimsthatagoodbitofwhatpassesfornarrativepreachinghasbeenfastenedtothewrongnarratives,thatitconsistsofsuperficialanecdotesofhumanexperienceorallegedplotstructuresintheimagination,ratherthanthegospelnarratives.DrawingupontheworkofHansFrei,Campbellclaimsthat¡°whatisimportantforChristianpreachingisnot¡®stories¡¯ingeneraloreven¡®homileticalplots,¡¯butratheraspecificstorythatrenderstheidentityofaparticularperson....preachinginwhichJesusisnotthesubjectofhisownpredicates--comesinforcritique.¡±
More recently, it has been critics from the left who have expressed profound displeasure with the narrative preaching. In fact, their attacks are the most severe of all since they allege that practitioners of the ¡°new¡± homiletics are not merely rhetorically mistaken, theologically weak, or trendy, but they have committed the far more serious offenses of potential oppression and abuse of power.


How do narrative preachers commit these crimes? By doing what narrative preachers, do best, speaking from and to the common life experiences of the hearers. One of the sharpest critics on the left, John McClure of Vanderbilt, draws on the work of Levinas to argue that the kind of stories that narrative preachers tend to tell carry the implied message, ¡°Here is an everyday experience that we all have had or could have had, and if you really knew how to look at this experience, you would recognize it as a sacred experience.¡± But in this seemingly gentle gesture of telling such stories, these preachers, McClure seems to say, have exercised their privileged positions of power to grind down all human differences, have lifted their own views of experience to the level of the universal and commanded the hearers to fit their lives into this frame. Moreover, they have insisted that people see God at work in every little nook and cranny of life and in just the way the preachers do, all the while hiding behind a false front of seemingly neutral and objective but really power-laden language. McClure aims right for the jugular of the cozy gospel storytellers (among others) when he says,

God should not become too accessible, too easily located, too easily associated with symbols elevated to kerygmatic status within the tradition...or associated with symbols that may derive their meanings from subtle juxtapositions with what are largely hegemonic forms of human experience.

Beyond the critique of theologians, there is plenty of evidence that the communicational storms blowing in our internet and cell phone culture are whipping up a generation of hearers who don¡¯t listen to sermons, television shows, movies, or anything else in the ways that their parents did. Narrative sermons ask hearers to begin at the beginning of the sermon and to track the sermon all the way to the main claim of the gospel disclosed at the endofthesermon.That¡¯sfineifcongregationslisteninalinearfashion,butaninternetculturedoesnottendtoprocessinformationthatway,movinginrandomorderfromthispieceofinformationtothenextthingthatcatchestheeye.Communicationalanalystsarerecognizingthatwearemovingfromalineartoanepisodiccultureintermsofcommunication.
Some mega-church preachers have seemingly noticed, or perhaps intuited, an increased presence of these episodic listeners and have, in response, begun fashioning ¡°anti-narrative¡± sermons (my term, not theirs), sermons that are built as a series of stand-alone ¡°bullet points¡± (We have perhaps returned in a digital age to the old ¡°three-points-and-a-poem¡± style, except it¡¯s now ¡°eight bullet points and a video clip.¡±). Hearers are invited to browse these sermons as they would a web page, skipping here and there as interest would allow.
So, story preaching is catching it these days from the right, the middle, and the left, and at multiple levels. The right zings most sharply at the level of churchly practice: the telling of stories may ease minds and entertain the choir, but it doesn¡¯t build churches and extend the Body of Christ. The middle has a theological complaint: the telling of stories may educe theological knowledge when it is already in place, but it doesn¡¯t supply it when it is not. For the theological left, the challenge is ethical. Storytelling enforces through coercion a monochromatic world upon the multi-hued experiences of others. For the communication experts, narrative preaching does not match the episodic patterns of listening growing in the culture.

Narrative Preaching Revised


While I am not fully convinced by any of these arguments, I am chastened by all of them, and persuaded by them of two truths: First, we no longer live in a sleeping Christendom waiting only to be aroused and delighted by evocative stories. The culture has shifted and we need to take up with purpose Augustine¡¯s two other terms: teaching and ethical speech. Preaching today is going to need to learn to speak in multiple voices, some of them more direct, commanding, and urgent than narrative. Humanity does not live by narrative alone, but by every Word that comes from the mouth of God. The power in Christian preaching comes not only from narration but also from declaration (¡°Christ has been raised from the dead!¡±), explanation (¡°If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied¡±), invitation (¡°Be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord¡±), confession (¡°By the grace of God, I am what I am¡±), and even accusation (¡°O death, where is your victory?¡±). Every rhetorical instrument of human truth-telling needs to be pressed into the service of proclaiming the gospel, and must become obedient to that gospel.
But second, in the light of the vigorous critique of the sloppier kinds of narrative preaching, preachers need not to abandon storytelling but to get theologically smarter and more ethically discerning in its practice. For example, I would be distressed if the bullet-point sermons of the mega-churches became the main method of Christian preaching. Such preaching is immediately engaging to many people, but it tends to reinforce the fragmented, non-narrated character of contemporary life and works, at a deep level, against the gospel. Narrative preachers, however, can learn something important from this approach. We may be in a communicational moment when, narrative preaching as it has often been practiced is not viable. If we tell stories in sermons – biblical and otherwise -- we will need also to step away from those stories and think them through in non-narrative ways, becoming teachers and ethical advisors in a new way, drawing out explicitly the ideas and ethical implications of the stories. In short, preachers today may need to model in the sermon itself the internal processing of narratives that a previous generation of preachers could entrust fully to the hearers.
But the gospel will always demand narrative. So what are we doing when we responsibly tell contemporary stories in sermons? We are not simply making sermons interesting, touching, or emotionally powerful. Narrative is not merely a rhetorical device to titillate bored listeners. What we are doing, first of all, is dress rehearsing in the pulpit a competence expected of every Christian, the capacity to make theological sense out of the events and experiences of our lives. We want every Christian to struggle with the theological realities embedded in our national exercise of power and pride and deception in Iraq, embedded in the ambiguities of an ethical decision at work, with embedded in the seeming mundaneness of a check-out line at a market on a Thursday afternoon, and to see these as narrative arenas of faith and discernment. H. Richard Niebuhr put it well:

[B]ecause the Christian community remembers the revelatory moment in its own history, it is required to regard all events...as workings of the God who reveals [the divine self], and so to trace...the ways of God in [human lives]. It is necessary for the Christian community, living in faith, to look upon all the events of time and to try to find in them the workings of one mind and will.

Because pulpit storytelling is a dress rehearsal for the living of the Christian life, this means that it is ethically irresponsible to tell the canned and simplistic preacher stories that drain away the moral and theological ambiguities inherent in real life. Preacher stories that always yield the right moral lesson or end up in triumph without struggle are a damn lie about human life and Christian faith. In his book, ThePoeticsofBiblicalNarrative,MeirSternbergmakesthecasethatthebiblicalnarrativesthemselvesareintentionallyambiguoussuchthatthesweatandanguishoftryingtomakesenseoutthemreplicatestheveryprocessofcomingtofaith.Hemarvelsthatbiblicalnarrativesareliterarilyconstructedfullofgaps,non-sequiturs,anddiscontinuities,stumblingblocksthathinderthereadingprocess.Hesays:



With the narrative become an obstacle course, its reading turns into a drama of understanding B conflict between inferences, seesawing, reversal, discovery, and all. The only knowledge perfectly acquired is the knowledge of our limitation. It is by a sustained effort alone that the reader can attain at the end to something of the vision that God has possessed all along: to make sense of the discourse is to gain a sense of being human.

If the preaching of the gospel is, as Calvin would have it, a means by which ¡°the children of Adam and Eve become the children of Christ,¡±thenwewillhavetotellhonestlythestoriedexperiencesofbothkindsofchildren,thechildrenofAdamandEveandthechildrenofChriststoriesoftragedyandstoriesofhope,storiesofconflictinferences,seesawing,reversal,discovery.Contemporarysermonstoriesthatarehonestaboutthegainsandlossesinthemorallife,thatwresttheologicalmeaningfromthemidstofambiguityandstruggle,modelwhatChristiansarecalledtodoeverydayinthemundanenarrativesoflife.
Not only do sermon stories dress rehearse the Christian life, they also help to form the working canon of narratives for a congregation. Stanley Hauerwas and David Burrell have wondered if every one of us does not live out of a set of canonical stories that shape our convictional life. I know that congregations have sets of canonical narratives, what theologian Michael Welker has called a ¡°living cultural...canonic memory [that] connects together a multitude of perspectives on the presence of Christ which are all interdependently related in a continual interplay.¡±Atthecorearethememoriesofscripture--memoriesofGodsummoningthesunandmoontolightthesky,memoriesofhumanbeingsbeforeGod,ofSarahlaughingandDavidbeatinghisbreastingrief,ofMaryponderingthesethingsinherheartandJesusblessingthechildrenandPaulbeingshipwrecked. But congregations also add to these biblical core narratives of their own.

I grew up in a small congregation of farmers and teachers in what in those days was rural country outside of Atlanta. One Sunday, in the middle of our worship service, a man we had never seen before burst through the back door of the church. As every eye in the congregation was trained on him, he made his way down the side aisle of the church. Who was he? We were near the tracks of the Southern Railroad, and perhaps he was a drifter who had ridden on the rods of a boxcar. We were beside the highway; maybe he had hitchhiked from the hills to the north. He stared at us, we stared at him. Our minister stopped preaching and stared. He stared back. Suddenly a strange look crossed his face, and he bolted back out the door never to be seen by us again.
For weeks, after every service, the adults would gather under the trees in the front yard of the church, and they would discuss and debate what had happened. Finally they came to a red clay Georgia farmers¡¯ theological consensus, and it was not that a vagrant had disrupted our service. It was rather that we had failed some moral test, that God had sent us a stranger and we had not responded as we were called to do.
This experience, this story, became a part of the local canon of our congregation, a reminder of our frailty, and a guide to our ethical life. We did not know, but it would not have surprised us to know, that the Christian church had already added this experience to its narrative canon. As the third-century catechetical document Didascaliastates:

If a destitute man or woman...arrives unexpectedly...and there is no place, you, bishop, make such a place with all your heart, even if you yourself should sit on the ground...that your ministry may be pleasing before God.

Finally, the ethics of pulpit storytelling call on us to add to the church¡¯s canon and to keep alive in the church¡¯s memory the stories of those whose lives are not remembered and celebrated and truthfully narrated elsewhere in our culture. Paul Ricoeur has said, ¡°We tell stories because in the last analysis human lives need and merit being narrated. [It is necessary] to save the history of the defeated and the lost. The whole history of suffering ...calls for narrative.¡±
At its best, the narrative impulse in preaching grows out of a deep sense of the character, shape, and epistemology of the gospel. If preaching is a sacramental meeting place between the church and the word, the hearers and the gospel, then the substance of preaching is shaped by scripture and by human experience under the sign of grace, and both of these aspects call for narration.
But as for now, a chastened, revised, theologically more astute, and biblically engaged form of narrative preaching endures, and will continue to endure. Perhaps the most reliable measure is whether or not the life of the church nourished by such preaching and finds itself more and more formed in the image of Christ. Faithful preaching is not story time; it is instead the spoken word at the epicenter of a community of courageous testimony. Such preaching models the vocabulary, the hospitable style of talking, the humility, the prayerful seeking, the awareness of ambiguity, the confident hope, and the gospel-storied shape of the lives of people who will talk to their children about their faith and bear witness in the world to the overwhelming generosity of God.



. Fred B. Craddock, OverhearingtheGospel:PreachingandTeachingtheFaithtoPersonsWhoHaveAlreadyHeard(Nashville:AbingdonPress,1978),9etpassim.

. Edmund Steimle, Morris J. Niedenthal, and Charles L. Rice, PreachingtheStory(Philadelphia:FortressPress,1980),pp.12-13.

. Reynolds, AFrom Doctrine to Narrative,@ 480.

. Richard Lischer, AThe Limits of Story,@ Interpretation38/1(January,1984),36.

. James W. Thomspon, PreachingLikePaul:HomileticalWisdomforToday(Louisville:WestminsterJohnKnox,2001),pp.9-14.

. Charles L. Campbell, PreachingJesus:NewDirectionsforHomileticsinHansFrei=s Postliberal Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,1997), pp. 192-193.

. John S. McClure, Other-wisePreaching:APostmodernEthicforHomiletics(St.Louis:ChalicePress,2001),p.81.

. H. Richard Niebuhr, AThe Story of Our Life,@ excerpted from TheMeaningofRevelationinStanleyHauerwasandL.GregoryJones(eds),WhyNarrative?ReadingsinNarrativeTheology(GrandRapids:Eerdmans,1989),42.

. Meir Sternberg, ThePoeticsofBiblicalNarrative(Bloomington:

. B.A. Gerrish, GraceandGratitude:TheEucharisticTheologyofJohnCalvin(Philadelphia;FortressPress,1993), p. 89.

. StanleyHauerwasandDavidBurrell,AFrom System to Story: An Alternative Pattern for Rationality in Ethics,@ in Hauerwas and Jones, WhyNarrative?,190.


. Michael Welker AResurrection and Eternal Life: The Canonic Memory of the Resurrected Christ, His Reality, and His Glory,@ in John Polkinghorne and Michael Welker (eds), TheEndoftheWorldandtheEndsofGod:ScienceandTheologyonEschatology(Harrisburg,PA:TrinityPressInternational,2000),287

13. Didascalia2.58.6ascitedinGordonLathrop,HolyThings:ALiturgicalTheology(Minneapolis:FortressPress,1993),120.

14. Paul Ricoeur, TimeandNarrative,Vol.1(Chicago:UniversityofChicagoPress,1984),75.
2009-06-15 17:21:25
121.xxx.xxx.119


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