Should Sermons Always Be Short?
How long should a typical sermon be?
You might imagine the question being asked in a seminary homiletics class or perhaps by a seasoned preacher to a group of young pastors. Over the past few years, I’ve noticed this question being posed regularly in my little corner of social media. Interestingly, in the cases I’m thinking about, it isn’t really a question so much as a statement about the ideal length of a sermon. A preacher asks the question, but then offers his own opinion that shorter is better: something along the lines of, “If you can’t say it in twenty minutes, you’ve not done your work. You’ll lose people. You’ve made it about you.” You get the idea.
I don’t necessarily disagree. I appreciate a short sermon and shortening my own sermons is often a helpful practice. Undoubtedly the preachers who believe sermons should be on the shorter side have had these opinions affirmed in the seminaries they attend, the conferences they frequent, and the online communities they turn to for continuing education.
But these claims and questions about the ideal sermon get under my skin—and I think I’ve figured out why. The way they are phrased assumes universal application, as though shorter sermons are always better everywhere. There’s no reflection about the significance of culture or context.
For example, the emphasis on sermon length assumes a certain experience of time. For many Western people, time is a limited commodity. What we do with time says a lot about what is important to us. Things like starting “late” or going “over time” are laden with values. When I end a meeting on time by saying, “I want to respect your time,” I reflect the view that ending on time is a way to show honor. But what if that’s not your experience of time? What if time is not a commodity, but more of an atmosphere in which what is most important—relationships and kinship—can be prioritized? How does the claim that “short is best” sound to those ears?
There are other assumptions we should consider. If the preacher’s primary role is to communicate biblical information to the congregation, then shorter sermons make sense. There’s only so much data someone can take in at a time. The assumption here reveals that the mind is the most important part of our humanity. But what if our anthropology is bigger than our brains? In many settings, the sermonic task includes reintegrating people with themselves—bodies, minds, and spirits—their communities, and their place. This task often requires more than twenty minutes.
And what about the congregation? If they see themselves as a voluntarily associated collection of individuals who have come for sanctified information that helps them be better Christians, then three points and a poem will do nicely. But what if the congregation is gathered to worship as a people? In plenty of churches, women and men come with an existential sense of their union in Christ as well as the suffering they’ve known in an unjust society. They are hungry for more than information. So, their preachers will take their time, calling the people to remember who they are and who God is, showing them how God has been present in trial and pain, rooting their collective experience in the narrative of Scripture. Again, we need a few extra minutes for this.
“I like short sermons! I like long ones too. The rub is the assumption that what is best in one setting is best in all.”
I think of the church services I’ve attended in our predominantly African American neighborhood. As the pastor steps into the pulpit, there is often a collective expectation, a hunger for the gospel to be plainly and boldly proclaimed. Throughout the week, the Black members of these churches have navigated a racialized society in which their humanity is often diminished. These women and men are generally aware of the ways in which they have been lied to and are ready for the truth. Rather than immediately launching into the sermon’s manuscript or outline, the preacher will sometimes take time to praise the God who kept his people another week and to exhort the congregation to do the same. By the time Scripture is opened and the first exegetical observation made, the gathered church has made its presence known; as the sermon proceeds, they will be active participants in the proclamation of the gospel. And they—the whole church, not just the preacher—will need more than fifteen or twenty minutes for this.
Again, I like short sermons! I like long ones too. The rub is the assumption that what is best in one setting is best in all. Interestingly, I’ve only heard these claims made by White preachers. I’ve yet to hear a Black preacher make a similar one. Here’s where the claim about an ideal sermon length becomes about more than sermons: when we make statements about ideals severed from context, we’re playing to a deep and dangerous tendency. We assume an authority to define a best practice not just for our own contexts and cultures, but for others, too.
We can observe this tendency in something as simple as how we talk about our theology. Oftentimes, the theologies articulated by White European and American scholars are perceived as the ideal, which can be seen in the way they are described simply as theology. In contrast, theologians of color are usually described by their social location: Black theology, liberation theology, womanist theology, and so on. The merits of these theological articulations are judged by how well they harmonize—or not—with the (usually White, Western) ideal.
So yes, preach that short sermon. I’m here for it! But be curious about why someone else preaches much longer than you, as well. What is it about their context that makes this a good decision? What can their cultural location help you see more clearly about your own? For those of us whose contexts are prone to idealize a shorter sermon, maybe there are some questions to consider. Have we elevated our congregants’ minds above the rest of their embodied experiences? Does our preaching assume a collection of individuals or the called-together fellowship of believers who share a common identity in Christ? What might need to shift for the congregation to see itself as active participants in the sermon rather than passive recipients?
No, longer sermons are not inherently better than shorter ones. But for those of us in the shorter sermon camp, learning from the assumptions of our “Take your time, preacher!” friends will help us discover a few assumptions of our own.
About the Author
David W. Swanson is the founding pastor of New Community Covenant Church, a multiracial congregation on the South Side of Chicago. He is also the CEO of New Community Outreach and previously served as a Director of Church Planting for the Evangelical Covenant Church. David and Maggie have been married for 22 years and have two sons.