The Truth about Conflict: Preaching When We’re Divided

Aimee Moiso

On January 21, 2025, Episcopal Bishop Mariann Budde was the preacher for the interfaith Prayer Service for the Nation at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. Held the day after the second inauguration of President Donald Trump, the service was attended by the president and vice president, along with elected officials, public leaders, dignitaries, international guests, and many others. 

Near the end of her sermon, Budde addressed the president directly. She asked for compassion and mercy for all who had put their trust in him, and especially for those who might be made more vulnerable by his promised actions.

The sermon went viral. Budde and her message were suddenly at the center of a whirlwind of questions about what it means to be a preacher in the United States in 2025. Reactions split largely along partisan lines. Some who supported the administration saw the sermon as an expression of disrespect and even “theological malpractice.”¹ Others, especially from mainline Christian traditions, praised her sermon as an example of “prophetic” courage. 

In a post outlining what made the sermon prophetic, Leah Schade, a professor at Lexington Theological Seminary, wrote that Budde “stood in that sacred, public space . . . and asked for mercy on behalf of those who have no access to such a space. She used her privilege as an ordained minister to speak for those whose lives are threatened. And she did so knowing that she would be putting her own life at risk.”² For Schade, Budde’s sermon was prophetic not only because she spoke on behalf of others, but because in doing so she risked her own well-being.

Similarly, Episcopal priest and Republican politician John Danforth commented that “what [Budde] did was preach biblical truth to power . . . that’s what the prophetic ministry does.”³ Mark Wingfield, executive director and publisher of Baptist News Global, noted that Budde’s sermon was prophetically prescient. She had called for care and protection of people who, a month later, were already being harmed by administration policies. “Bishop Budde was not just a preacher,” he wrote. “She was a prophet that day.”⁴ 

The word “prophetic” can evoke strong images in the mind’s eye: a vitriolic minister bellowing woes to a chastened congregation; a soapbox evangelist with a sandwich board and a megaphone rebuking passersby; a self-appointed visionary on cable TV predicting the end of the world and calling viewers to repent. The prophets of the Hebrew Bible are often remembered like that: as reluctant (or infuriated) heralds of condemnation who threaten the people with God’s wrath. Given these portrayals, it is no wonder prophetic preaching gets superficially contrasted with pastoral preaching, where a “prophetic” sermon is expected to make hearers feel bad (judged, rebuked, guilty), while a “pastoral” sermon will make them feel good (consoled, hope-filled, peaceful). Of course, neither of these is an accurate portrayal of most prophetic or pastoral preaching, but the caricatures remain salient. Even the most pastoral of prophetic preachers can be perceived as outlandish—just ask Bishop Budde how it feels to go viral after being publicly rebuked by the president of the United States. 

Many of us have never before experienced the levels of public hostility and volatility that are taking place in the United States in 2025. Continual waves of disruption and distraction can leave our communities and congregations unsettled and overwhelmed. Of course, this is not the only time preachers have navigated stormy seas while seeking to proclaim the good news, nor will it be the last, and there is some solace in knowing we are not alone in facing such situations. Still, when Sunday morning rolls around, preachers may struggle to hold everything together: screaming headlines, divergent narratives, biblical teachings, social outcry, congregational needs, local concerns, theological grounding, personal convictions, liturgical norms, spiritual and mental health, and on and on. 

When preachers feel strained by the constant push-and-pull of expectations in turbulent times, it can be even more challenging to discern what a sermon should be and do, and how to preach well in a burdened pulpit to burdened listeners. Temptations abound: preachers drawn to the prophetic mode may want to use their sermons solely to express anger over injustice, or to create false equivalencies between the gospel and partisan politics. Others who are inclined toward keeping the peace through their sermons might lean on feel-good platitudes of reassurance in a desire to avoid getting into trouble. Those in homogeneous congregations may preach sermons that simply reinforce the existing beliefs and actions of the community and reaffirm the status quo. While such preaching strategies may feel reasonable or even necessary at times, they create problems as time goes on—not least because they often mold the Scripture to meet the moment rather than letting the Scripture speak truth into our changing realities. For better or worse, complex situations require nuanced, thoughtful responses and the cultivation of resilience amid change, which are often resources in short supply when we are exhausted and anxious. 

It is striking, then, that at its heart Budde’s sermon was about unity. She spoke not of cheap, superficial unity, but one that requires openness and sacrifice in a pluralistic society. She called for mercy, compassion, humility, honesty, and care—none of which should be, in and of themselves, controversial topics. In reflecting on the maelstrom that followed her sermon, Budde wrote in a July Substack post, 

Though I attempted to speak with humility and respect when addressing the president, my words had the effect of amplifying the divisions that the prayer service for unity sought to address. It is a valid criticism. Yet if I had only said what our leaders wanted to hear, would that not have been a shirking of my responsibility?⁵

Few preachers will find themselves in the position of having to write a sermon for a congregation that includes the president of the United States. But Budde’s comments reflect the questions a lot of preachers carry these days. What are the preacher’s particular responsibilities in turbulent times, especially when preachers themselves may have strong feelings about what is happening? How might preachers speak prophetically while also demonstrating humility and respect for those in the pews and beyond? 

Budde’s experience adds an important consideration to preaching these days. Her sermon attempted to address the reality of division and alienation in the nation, in the congregation, and even between the preacher and the hearers. Neither prophetic nor pastoral modes of preaching are necessarily oriented toward what to do when communities or societies are in conflict. Though responding to local and national events seems like the realm of “prophetic” preaching, and social disruption might be best addressed with pastoral speech, are there other possibilities? What should preaching look like when our congregations and communities are divided? Moreover, what can we expect from preaching in such moments? What expectations are reasonable to put on a sermon in the first place? 

Preaching has never been a static exercise. Over generations, it has shifted and changed to meet historic moments and specific needs, to include new faces and voices, and to imagine new possibilities for how God speaks through proclamation. This era certainly offers significant challenges for preaching but also reveals fresh opportunities for God to speak to us amid—and sometimes even through—our conflicts. 

Preaching’s Recent History: The More the Merrier

It is sometimes easy to forget that as Christians we have not always done things the same way. During the last century, for example, preaching in the United States went through significant change. A prominent discussion was about the relationship between the preacher and the hearer. In many traditions, the role of the preacher had traditionally been seen as one set apart from (and often “above”) the congregation, whether by calling, education, appointment, or convention. At times, this “set-apartness” created the impression that the preacher was speaking over against the congregation rather than with or alongside them, or that the preacher was the mouthpiece of God proclaiming a message the congregation was simply to receive without question. The sense of distance between preacher and congregation sometimes added to the feeling that sermons were irrelevant to the daily lives of hearers.

A “turn toward the listener” in twentieth-century homiletics helped preachers imagine fresh possibilities. New ideas about the nature and purpose of sermons, as well as an emerging focus on the needs and desires of the hearers, encouraged preachers toward more informal and familiar speech. Preachers shifted from primarily using expository or “explanatory” templates to being more pastoral, reflective, artistic, and narrative. Listeners were not blank slates receiving a timeless, perfected proclamation. Instead, they could play a role in interpretation by bringing their own perspectives and understandings to the sermon. Preachers did not need to think of themselves as “separate” from the congregation but could begin from points of connection and even bring stories from the congregation into the pulpit. By allowing the wisdom and experiences of the whole community to influence the sermon, the act of proclamation became a shared venture rather than a one-person show. 

In practical terms, this shift toward the hearer meant that many preachers spoke more colloquially and interpersonally in their sermons, used more stories and images, focused more on pastoral concerns, and tried new ways to be relevant and timely.⁶ Preachers hoped that a more personal approach would provide hearers with more ways “into” the sermon and help parishioners feel like sermons were more applicable to their lives. Some pastors who felt they were out of step with their congregation’s cultural norms sought to better appreciate their parishioners’ values and beliefs by intentionally learning about and integrating the congregation’s context, history, and self-understanding into sermons.⁷ As preachers recognized the limitations of their own perspectives, they looked for interpretive resources by scholars from different traditions, cultures, and understandings. Some preachers employed roundtable or conversational approaches that brought congregation members together for biblical study, out of whose interpretations the weekly sermon was created.⁸ In each case, preachers chose to bring new and sometimes unexpected voices to the pulpit, integrating ideas and wisdom from the congregation and beyond. 

These approaches also reflected a theological shift toward a more communal understanding of preaching and away from the idea that a preacher had to have all the answers. In denominations built on the “priesthood of all believers,” these shifts reinforced the belief that worship is the responsibility of the whole community. Particularly in Reformed traditions, where hierarchical, concentrated power is a significant historical and theological concern, ensuring broad representation and participation in leadership safeguards the body against complacency among the laity, and against abuse and heresy from the pulpit. 

Today, in most mainline churches in the United States, there is still an (often unstated) expectation that the preacher is the one with something to say, and the congregation is there to receive that message. It can be hard for preachers to shake the feeling every sermon must offer something new and exciting for the congregation. Hearers, too, bring their own expectations, such as hoping the sermon will meet their individual need for particular inspiration, comfort, conviction, or transformation on a given Sunday. Both preachers and hearers may look to sermons for clear and definitive answers to life’s toughest questions, or to make universal declarations of right and wrong. Or listeners may hope simply to hear and consider new ideas without being told what to think or how to act; they may feel frustrated by more directive preaching. All kinds of expectations can leave preachers feeling unsure or even paralyzed about what to say and parishioners disappointed or frustrated by what they hear. 

Continuing to include multiple and varied perspectives in the sermon, though, means the preacher doesn’t face the expectations “alone.” To facilitate congregational participation in the sermon, preachers might gather congregation members specifically to discuss upcoming Scripture texts together. The preacher then weaves into sermons the theology and interpretations that emerge from the conversations. As such conversations become familiar and normalized parts of the sermon-writing process, members may feel comfortable offering significant stories from their lives, which can become sermon illustrations (with the permission of the storyteller). In some settings, those who’ve shared stories could be asked to offer them directly as part of the sermon itself. One version of this “roundtable” preaching method is outlined in John McClure’s The Roundtable Pulpit, where membership in the conversation group rotates over time to include as many participants as want to join—and even guests and community partners whose wisdom and perspectives broaden the conversation.⁹

A multiplicity of voices from the pulpit demonstrates our interdependence in the discernment of God’s intentions. As listeners recognize their own stories interwoven with those of the community, they are reminded of their part in a larger story. Preachers can let go of the feeling they should have all the answers, and parishioners are empowered to participate in the hope-filled proclamation as they hear their own hopes and convictions resonate from the pulpit. Together, we are reminded of our shared vocation as learners, interpreters, visionaries, and wisdom-bringers. Rather than feeling like a lone voice in the wilderness, the preacher becomes the host of a conversation in which everyone has wisdom to contribute, and everyone’s experience matters. 

Especially in unsettled times, the simple act of allowing the voices of the community to be part of the sermon can help to ease tension and reconnect us with each other. How marvelous it is to realize that together we get to offer stories of the life of the congregation, the community, and the wider world as an act of Christian worship. What a joyful expression of faith it can be to listen to each other to hear the voice of God, who speaks beyond the limits of any of our individual understandings.

Coming into Conflict with Preaching

A challenge for Christian communities can be discerning the limits of diversity—what levels of difference are acceptable while upholding orthodoxy, for example. Diversity also brings another dynamic: the potential for conflict. In its most basic terms, conflict is defined as differences that result in tension.¹⁰ That is, when we encounter something unfamiliar or different, it can cause us to feel discomfort or tension, and thus conflict. By this definition, any humans existing in proximity to each other will experience conflict, which means conflict is both neutral (not intrinsically good or bad) and unavoidable. 

In Christian contexts, however, we often assume that conflict is a sign that something has gone wrong. Conflict can be uncomfortable and messy. Many of us feel wary of awkwardness, hurt feelings, and heightened emotion. We fear misunderstandings and broken relationships. We become anxious for resolution and a return to harmony. Each of these feels like it is in opposition to what God wants for us. So, rather than considering the deeper questions of what difference might mean, we often try to resist the conflict altogether—in our interpersonal interactions, our communities, and our preaching. We perceive differences as threats to unity, and therefore as sin. As Christian conflict theorist Carolyn Schrock-Shenk writes,

Many of us have been taught God is absent in conflict. We have often worked to achieve a false unity based on uniformity of thought and action rather than oneness of spirit. This belief has devastated relationships and congregations. It has closed down emotions, honest expression, and dialogue about differences. It has often led us to speak and act as if we have the complete truth. Then we become insecure and suspicious when faced with different beliefs or opinions.¹¹

When we seek to shut down conflict outright, we miss the opportunity to learn from differences and to embrace the diversity God has created as a gift for us. Further, we do not learn helpful and healthy ways to respond to conflict that lead to deeper learning and more honest relationships. 

When conflict erupts, preachers may feel pressure to say something that will quickly move past it and bring the community together. Often, however, this impulse can sidestep the conflict rather than working toward authentic, constructive engagement with what underlies it. Finality is not required in a sermon, nor is certainty. Instead of rushing to answers, preachers can choose to craft sermons that reflect on the conflict from differing faithful perspectives, providing framework for congregational discernment and prayer. The open-endedness of this approach may require some adjustment, both for preachers who feel pressure to tie together the loose ends of a sermon, and congregations who expect the same. One simple technique for preachers is to be honest and straightforward about what is taking place. It can come as a relief to both preacher and listeners to hear it said aloud that as the body of Christ, we sometimes don’t know what to do or how to respond to the challenges before us. Rather than increasing tension, when preachers stand alongside the congregation in shared uncertainty and fear—and provide tools for attending to what is happening—the result is often a sense of empowerment for all involved. Despite our desire to avoid discomfort, rushing to resolution is often not as helpful or faithful as developing our spiritual capacities for listening, waiting, flexibility, and receptivity so that we can take the time needed to discern the way together. Preachers might (during the sermon itself!) lead the congregation in spiritual exercises designed to lessen anxiety while sitting with their discomfort, using the practices to strengthen capacity for openness and mindfulness in the community. 

The preacher can act as the encourager of patient faithfulness and honesty among all gathered as they listen to and with each other and the world. In times of tension, this alternative understanding of the nature of preaching—one which centers voices of the whole rather than the voice of an individual—can be an antidote to anxiety for both the preacher and the congregation. Likewise, when the preacher feels at odds with the congregation, it can be a relief to let go of needing to “persuade” or “convince,” and to offer instead stories, ideas, and viewpoints from the gathered body as siblings in Christ. Rather than avoiding conflict to keep an uneasy peace, the preacher can help give expression to the deep convictions of the people. Preachers might gather personal stories from members of the congregation with differing views (again, with their permission) and incorporate them into the sermon. The intention here would not be to craft a sermon-as-two-sided-debate, but to demonstrate that well-meaning people of deep faith can disagree, and may have good, important, and even biblical reasons for the positions they hold. Together, then, we practice listening to the experiences of others to better hear how God might be speaking in ways we’ve missed or misunderstood. It is also a spiritual exercise of remaining open and vulnerable to the possibility of being changed by another person who is also made in the image of God. Together, as a body of many parts, the community listens more comprehensively and prayerfully to one another during times of tension in order to hear the voice of God as it moves among them.

Conflict itself is neither bad nor good, but how we respond to conflict can be constructive or destructive. Constructive conflict opens us to new possibilities, encourages us to pause and listen to each other, grows our humility and patience, points toward needed change, and reminds us of our interdependence. Destructive conflict, by contrast, is marked by rigidity, defensiveness, hostility, entrenchment, and increased distance from one another. Not all moments are ripe for constructive conflict, and sometimes boundaries need to be set if participants move toward destructive responses. We do not need to extend the hospitality of listening to those who cause harm by, for example, proclaiming the superiority of any race, culture, gender, or other form of identity; insulting or demeaning others; or inciting malice, demonization, or violence. It is always appropriate to protect people from harm, especially if they are part of vulnerable groups. Simultaneously, harm is different from discomfort. It is normal to feel uncomfortable around conflict, and to feel a wide range of other emotions—fear, anxiety, anger, embarrassment, shame, for instance—as well. Feeling uncomfortable emotions is one of the reasons we often seek to shut down conflict before addressing it. However, we can choose to stay present to the situation even if we are uncomfortable, and to cultivate practices that help us listen well and remain patient and vulnerable in those situations. Responding to conflict constructively requires willing participants who seek new understanding of and deepened compassion for others. 

When conflict emerges in a community—and it always will, whenever people gather—we have the choice to engage with it constructively or destructively. We can choose to build healthier relationships together, or to shove conflict under the rug, or to become defensive and hostile. Preaching offers one way to demonstrate, illustrate, and normalize constructive approaches to conflict, especially when we make a habit of presenting different viewpoints without feeling compelled to resolve them, or by pointing out the ways in which our conflicts have led to growth and change. As we interpret Scripture together, our diverse perspectives can enrich the whole of our understanding and help us see God in new and surprising ways. 

More importantly, recognizing that conflict is normal, natural, and simply an experience of differences that cause tension allows the preacher to approach conflict in healthy and open-minded ways. Conflict is often the means by which necessary change is made known—for instance, when situations of inadequate access, hospitality, justice, or equity are brought to light. Social change often emerges out of differences that have brought tensions to the foreground. Instead of fearing conflict, Schrock-Shenk writes, the church can choose to consider conflict an opportunity to listen more carefully for God’s leading:

We can begin to understand conflict settings as holy ground, as places where God is present in powerful ways, as opportunities to gain new insight and understanding. Imagine how different our conflicts would be if we could move from an “Oh dear, how terrible” to “What is God trying to say to us?”¹²

What might it look like for preachers to put before the congregations the diverse concerns, hopes, viewpoints, and faithful actions of the congregation, and to ask the gathered community to reflect on what they’ve heard together by asking, “What is God trying to say to us?”

Preaching in a Long-Distance Relationship

Dealing with conflict or controversial issues from the pulpit is complicated in the best of times. But experts in conflict and peacemaking point out that when conflict becomes polarized (as in public life in the United States in 2025), we are no longer dealing with just “differences in tension.” What was once mere disagreement or diverging opinions slides into fundamental incompatibility. Language within the conflict changes from addressing issues or ideas to making generalizations and speaking in stereotypes about the people with whom we disagree: people like “them” versus people like “us.” As opposition hardens, common ground between groups is harder to find, and those who seek it are considered untrustworthy or disloyal to the group to which they belong. Ideologies become rigid and absolute, and those who don’t yet hold strong opinions are pressured to join a side. Compromise is no longer a viable option but a betrayal of the “cause.” As the conflict becomes more and more about dehumanized “enemies,” the only possible solutions require getting away from—or getting rid of—those “others.”¹³

When polarization has gripped a community, it may be impossible for a sermon addressing controversy to be received well, no matter how pastoral its approach. Addressing conflict through a sermon requires willing participants in the pulpit and the pews. As participants become estranged from each other to the point of hostility, attempting to address conflict through public speech may only exacerbate antagonism. This is the scenario in which Bishop Budde found herself; though she tried to name the issues facing the nation and encourage people toward unity, the divisions were already too strained to allow even a reasonable hearing.

International conflict experts point out that top-down approaches to conflict rarely lead to lasting peace unless those who have been affected by the conflict—down to the grassroots—have ownership in the process.¹⁴ Similarly, preaching cannot solve significant congregational polarization. Addressing entrenched conflict within a congregation requires a more comprehensive approach in which the parties are empowered to work toward transformation together, to establish the means and processes of that transformation, and to find their way back to shared and mutual relationship. 

When groups are so polarized that even compromise on divisive issues becomes difficult or impossible, one possibility for preaching is to focus on the nature of Christian community and how we want to be together in our divisions. Preaching shifts from “How do we deal with the conflict through the sermon?” to “What kind of relationships are we called to in this time and place?” Preachers again become encouragers—not toward imposed resolution or false unity, but toward reimagining what it means to be the body of Christ together. When we cannot agree on an issue, can we still promise to speak to each other with kindness and openness? When we cannot agree on which news source is telling the truth, can we still commit to being honest with each other about how we feel? When we cannot agree on how a Scripture should be interpreted, can we still agree that we should discern God’s will together in community? 

This orientation toward preaching is equally important whether the congregation is internally divided or the congregation is of the same mind but divided from external communities. As polarization reinforces who is “in” and who is “out” of a particular group, the temptation in like-minded communities is to double down on existing beliefs that reinforce the group’s identity. Prophetic preaching in such contexts requires a relational focus in order to resist demonizing others or venerating ourselves. Maintaining a sense of humility and an openness to admitting our limitations even as we speak powerfully about injustice can help temper the impulse to make “others” the problem. Preachers need to take special care to resist using tropes and straw-man arguments to make points, and to avoid speaking in generalities and abstractions. The most powerful and meaningful elements for the hearer will be specifics: stories about a real person or a particular situation rather than a large, generic population, visuals that bring big ideas like “liberation” or “fellowship” into a concrete and tangible reality, local and familiar experiences that can be connected to a larger or more global situation to remind us of our interdependence. In the end, maintaining our relational connection with others, who are all made in the image of God, is the only way toward long-term healing of broken communities and societies. 

The writer of Ephesians encourages hearers to “put away falsehood” and “speak the truth with your neighbor” (4:25). When we are polarized from each other, it can seem like we must shout toward each other across a great chasm to try to get those on the other side to finally hear what is “true.” But the verse goes on to say why truth is so important: “for we are members of one another.” We tell the truth because we are in this together. We belong to each other. When we cannot agree, or even when we are divided for a time, we strive to hold the conviction that somehow, in the bonds of Christ, we remain connected. From this foundation, we live in hope of a healed and reconciled future for all who share this world together.

Notes

1. “A Pastor’s Sermons on Social Justice Causes Conflict among Congregation,” Consider This from NPR, directed by Sacha Pfeiffer, National Public Radio, January 31, 2025, https://www.npr.org/2025/01/31/1228085807/a-pastors-sermons-on-social-justice-causes-conflict-among-congregation/.

2. Leah D. Schade and EcoPreacher, “11 Lessons For Preachers From Bishop Budde’s Sermon,” EcoPreacher, January 25, 2025, https://www.patheos.com/blogs/ecopreacher/2025/01/11-lessons-for-preachers-from-bishop-buddes-sermon/.

3. Brian Kaylor, “John Danforth, Former GOP Senator and Episcopal Priest, Calls Bishop Budde ‘Prophetic,’” Word&Way, January 30, 2025, https://wordandway.org/2025/01/30/john-danforth-former-gop-senator-and-episcopal-priest-calls-bishop-budde-prophetic/.

4. Mark Wingfield, “Bishop Budde’s Sermon, One Month Later,” Opinion, Baptist News Global, February 18, 2025, https://baptistnews.com/article/bishop-buddes-sermon-one-month-later/.

5. Mariann Budde, “Hello, I’m Bishop Mariann,” Substack newsletter, Reflections on Courage, Faith, and the Work of Love, July 9, 2025, https://mariannbudde.substack.com/p/hello-im-bishop-mariann/.

6. See for example Eugene L. Lowry, Homiletical Plot, Expanded Edition: The Sermon as Narrative Art Form (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000); Fred B. Craddock, Preaching (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1985); Paul Scott Wilson, Four Pages of the Sermon: A Guide to Biblical Preaching (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1999).

7. See Leonora Tubbs Tisdale, Preaching as Local Theology and Folk Art (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1997).

8. See John S. McClure, The Roundtable Pulpit: Where Leadership and Preaching Meet (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995).

9. McClure, The Roundtable Pulpit.

10. Thomas W. Porter, The Spirit and Art of Conflict Transformation: Creating a Culture of JustPeace (Nashville, TN: Upper Room, 2010), 13.

11. Carolyn Schrock-Shenk, “Introducing Conflict and Conflict Transformation,” in Making Peace with Conflict: Practical Skills for Conflict Transformation, ed. Carolyn Schrock-Shenk and Lawrence Ressler (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1999), 34.

12. Schrock-Shenk, “Introducing Conflict,” 34. 

13. John Paul Lederach, “Spirituality and Religious Peacebuilding,” in The Oxford Handbook of Religion, Conflict, and Peacebuilding, ed. Atalia Omer, R. Scott Appleby, and David Little (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 547–48, https://drive.google.com/file/d/18ucmyjnfz_zb2kwgwJvldCv1dCykuWhv/view/.

14. Diana Francis, People, Peace and Power: Conflict Transformation in Action (Sterling, VA: Pluto Press, 2002), 8.