Office of Communications> Weekly Reflection > Feb. 22, 2008
Walter Burghardt, SJ
He died quietly the other night in his community’s infirmary. Ninety-three and nearly blind, he graciously accepted the call, but I’m sure he was disappointed too. At 80, he was asking for “another decade or two” and you know he really wanted the full 20.
If you ever heard a sermon that knocked your socks off and then helped you put them back on, you’ve experienced him. A Jesuit theologian by make and model, he was, in every fiber of his being, a preacher. At 75 he founded Preaching the Just Word and, in his 80s, was twice selected as one of the great preachers in America.
He didn’t have that Jovian thunder or brimstone text, just a love for the Word and a blue-collar way of explaining it. Evaluating the state of the homily today, he wasn’t as poetic as Rahner’s “terrifying sterility,” but his “dull as dishwater” made his position clear.
He believed that those ordained to mine the rich veins of scripture did not have foremost a faculty or right, but a judgment-worthy obligation to affect people’s lives. The pulpit was a trust and the faithful deserved to be moved and inspired, ignited and affirmed.
He was intrigued by Charden’s cosmic vision, empathetic with Kierkegaard’s trembling freedom, and a firm believer in Buber and his relationship with the Eternal Thou. Still, he thought the homily too much head and not enough heart. He wanted more of the senses, more of the emotions and feelings that give life its momentum and thrill.
He thought preaching merited long hours of preparation. “Never settle for a good word when the best word is better.” And his pondered words could be sharp and uncomfortable. He railed against the corruption, arrogance and the at times idiocy of the institution. “And yet,” he wrote, “I joy in this Church, this living, pulsing, sinning people of God; love it with a crucifying passion.”
