It is not at all necessary, however, that we all agree about the content of these sermons; what is crucial is that we respect the form of this preaching and its roots in the profound suffering of black America.

All of us, white and black, should want to have good come from this controversy. Rev. Wright, in his interview on Bill Moyer’s Journal, quoted Joseph. After all that his brothers had put him through, selling him into slavery in Egypt, yet Joseph lives to see that God has brought good out of this awful act. “As for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good…[S]o do not fear.” (Exodus 50:20-21) So too, of this current storm, good may come, but understanding has to come first.

I have spoken to many white Americans regarding this controversy and it has become evident to me that while many are shocked by the language of judgment on America, it is the form of the sermon presentation that is more upsetting. People can come to accept that Rev. Wright is interpreting the judgment on the nations represented by the biblical prophet Malachi and yet still be unable to get past the form—the image of what appears to be an angry African American man in African garb shouting and waving his arms. It is the seemingly angry African American man that is shocking white America and I think, at bottom, this is what I think many white people can’t get past.

You cannot understand the African American preaching tradition unless you understand the African American church and the way in which worshipers in this tradition demand that their preachers connect with them in a deeply emotional way as an integral part of their spirituality. This is true of the prosperity gospel of Bishop T.D. Jakes or the social gospel of Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright.

I know and honor this African American worship context because it is the African American church that taught me to preach, not Duke Divinity School. When I was a seminary student, a fellow student, who happened to be African American, asked me to preach for him on Sunday so he could go on his honeymoon. I had not yet had a preaching class, but I had studied rhetoric at Smith College, so I thought I would be fine. I said yes and I made an excellent outline, interpreting that Sunday’s biblical texts, and typed it all out word for word.

I arrived at the church and when the time came was graciously escorted into the pulpit and I pulled out my typed sermon and started to read it to the church. I can still see the shocked faces of the congregation as they heard me read. Suddenly, the organ started to play softly. It shook me up because I had many more typed pages to read. I had to speak louder to be heard over the organ. But the louder I preached, the louder the organ became until I had abandoned my typed pages and was shouting to be heard. Then, from the back of the church I heard a man call out, in desperation, “Help her, Lord, help her!” And I got it. I clicked into a high gear I never knew I had and I preached that day and the congregation literally carried me along.

I never bothered to take a preaching class at seminary. I just went back to that church and guest-preached and I am forever grateful that I learned what it means to speak powerfully and from the heart in the pulpit.

I do get angry at injustice and I do sometimes shout from the pulpit and I know that this shocks many white congregations used to the three points and the more measured delivery. In my first full-time church pastorate, the Viet Nam War was still raging. This church had hearing aids in the pews to help people hear the sermon. I preached against the war over and over and I could tell right when the message of prophetic judgment on that war was getting to be too much for some folks because they would start yanking those hearing aids out of their ears and throwing them down. I have preached against this current war in Iraq many times and have shocked and appalled some folks. But many congregants are also grateful to hear a word of truth spoken plainly from the pulpit with power and passion and yes, anger.

The deep well of suffering in slavery, in lynching, in economic deprivation and separate and unequal schools and all the other travails of the African American experience have produced the African American worship context. This context demands that its preachers deal with the whole of human life, its terrible trials and its unexpected miracles of triumph. And woe betide the preacher that does not address the full spectrum of truth from the pulpit in an African American church and do so in a passionate and articulate way.

White America, this may not be the worship context you prefer and find most spiritually uplifting. This too should be respected.

What we can do for one another, however, is understand that there are differences and that a biblical word of judgment on the nation, spoken with passionate conviction from the pulpit, is a valid word. Even if it is not your word, respect the passion and the conviction and the enormous pool of history from which it is dipped and shared with a congregation that is still thirsting for justice and mercy.

Please, let us give each other respect and much greater depth of understanding and mutual regard can come from this controversy. And that good work, in truth, would be the hand of God.