Review: Arts and Preaching: An Aesthetic Homiletic for the Twenty-First Century by Sunggu A. Yang

(Wipf and Stock, 2021)

Arts and Preaching: An Aesthetic Homiletic for the Twenty-First Century showcases Sunggu A. Yang’s exploration of the interplay between preaching and the contemporary arts that capture our imagination and so often shape how we see the world.

Last year, I read Yang’s Digital Homiletics, where he focused on our post-COVID culture and the rise of online preaching. This earlier work broadens his perspective to the entire spectrum of the arts, weaving them into the craft of preaching so that the art forms captivating our culture become the canvas upon which sermons are painted. In both books, Yang devotes considerable thought to how preaching both shapes—and is shaped by—the culture around us.

“In our highly sensory and interactive age, how might preaching draw upon various arts to expand the aesthetic experience and mode of preaching?” (p. xvii)

To answer this, he calls for “the recovery of the ‘who’ and ‘why’ of preaching in homiletical training specifically by implementing a numen-participatory, holistic-aesthetic pedagogy of preaching in the classroom” (pp. 2–3).

In plain English, he’s talking about teaching and practicing preaching in a way that’s spiritual, hands-on, and filled with creativity and art. It’s an excellent idea, but buried under a mountain of jargon. Yang seems to write primarily for a shrinking audience of homiletics professors willing to wade through such dense prose.

Yang positions his work as a corrective to the previous generation’s focus on inductive preaching. He points to Fred Craddock’s As One Without Authority as the start of an era centered on the “how” and “what” of preaching. In contrast, Yang argues that modern culture needs preaching that focuses more on the “why” and the “who.” Like much in Arts and Preaching, this idea isn’t entirely new—he cites many others proposing the same shift—but he frames it specifically around the notion that the arts speak to our generation more loudly than preachers do.

But honestly, haven’t they always?

I Don’t Know If It’s Art, But I Know What I Like

Most of the book consists of five chapters exploring how preaching might draw from and emulate various art forms. Yang opens with Picasso and Preaching, where he proposes a cubist approach to sermon development.

Starting the book here is a bold choice that certainly sets the tone for what follows, though in many ways it creates more confusion than clarity.

Yang defines cubist preaching as:

“The generative act of an aesthetic matrix of ultimate spiritual meaning via transcendental deconstruction and multiperspectival reconstruction.” (p. 7)

I’ll admit, I had to read that several times.

As best I understand it, cubist preaching breaks ideas into pieces, examines them from multiple angles, and then reassembles them to help listeners see spiritual truth in new ways. Hey! That actually sounds like a great idea! It might even be fun to write a sermon like that.

However, while Yang’s artistic metaphors are creative, the core concept isn’t groundbreaking. His discussion reminded me of something Thomas Long writes in The Witness of Preaching:

“Luccock called this form the ‘jewel sermon,’ and Sangster called it the ‘facet sermon’ because the preacher presents the central claim of the sermon and then turns it in the light so that its various facets can be seen.” (p. 189)

In other words, what Yang describes as cubist preaching—breaking apart spiritual ideas and examining them from different angles before reconstructing them—is essentially a modern reframing of a longstanding concept expressed through the vocabulary of the art world. That’s not a criticism, but it does suggest Yang’s contribution leans more toward metaphor than toward entirely new homiletical methods.

Look! I’m Picasso!

Preaching and the Arts

In the next chapter, Yang shifts focus to architecture and preaching. He urges preachers to adopt a blueprint-like approach when crafting sermons on passages rich in architectural detail, such as descriptions of the Temple or Tabernacle. As I read this chapter, I gave myself a small pat on the back, recalling my own sermon on the Throne Room in Revelation 4.

Yang then turns to fashion and preaching. Here, he encourages preachers to consider what the clothing, decorations, or even scents described in biblical passages might evoke for listeners. I see both this chapter and the one on architecture as reminders of genre-sensitive preaching—a long-established and valuable approach.

Next, in A Cinematic Homiletic, Yang discusses film. He argues:

“film seems to be doing a better job these days of attracting and transforming people with its own messages and agendas than the church’s preaching.”

That may have been true when the book appeared in 2021, but even then, cinema was facing significant downturns. Today, studios are hemorrhaging money, theaters are closing, and fewer people go to the movies. Many lack the attention span for a full-length drama, at least not without their phones in hand.

As I read this chapter, I wondered, “Why didn’t he propose a doomscrolling homiletic, where a sermon would unfold in short, seemingly unrelated snippets to connect with our obsession with short-form video like TikTok?” It’s possible such practices were still a year or two away from cultural prominence, and likely lack definition as an art form (I would beg to differ). Perhaps it will be tackled in Yang (and company’s) follow-up, “Arts and Preaching: A Handbook for Practice, Volume 1” or “Volume 2.”

Episodic Illustrations

I found great value in Yang’s chapter on drama, titled Preaching to Episodic Ears. In it, he introduces the idea of episodic illustrations—instead of telling a quick story and moving on, the preacher allows the illustration to unfold in pieces throughout the sermon. It’s similar to a TV show revealing its plot bit by bit, keeping listeners engaged and curious about how it will conclude.

This is a brilliant way to sustain interest and create narrative tension. Practically speaking, it can help listeners—whose attention spans have been shaped by episodic storytelling—follow the sermon’s structure and remember the message more vividly.

The Final Chapter: Womanist Preaching

One critique: the final chapter takes a significant turn, focusing on womanist preaching. Yang describes it as:

“a succinct report and critical analysis of the currents in womanist homiletics and preaching. In particular, it explores the novel developments in womanist preaching presented by Norton through Beyoncé Mass.“ (p. 155)

Yang uses the Beyoncé Mass as a case study—a worship service blending Beyoncé’s music and persona with Christian liturgy to explore faith, justice, and Black womanhood.
To be clear, the Beyoncé Mass isn’t about worshiping Beyoncé but about using her cultural influence as a lens for theological reflection.

To be clear, the Beyoncé Mass isn’t about worshiping Beyoncé but about using her cultural influence as a lens for theological reflection.

However, Yang waits nine pages into the chapter to explain what the Beyoncé Mass is, leaving at least one old white guy (me) very confused.

More importantly, while I admire Yang’s attention to the preaching of Black women, womanist preaching deserves its own focused treatment rather than being squeezed into a single closing chapter of a book otherwise devoted to preaching and the arts. It feels tacked on rather than fully integrated into the book’s overall thesis.

The Preacher’s Spiritual Formation

For Yang, this sense of divine mystery shapes how preachers view the world, engage the arts, and approach preaching itself. There’s a deep connection here: Yang doesn’t simply want to teach preaching techniques; he wants to help preachers grow in their relationship with a holy God and develop a richer appreciation for the beauty and complexity of God’s world.

One of Yang’s most admirable concerns throughout the book is the preacher’s own spiritual formation. He opens with Isaiah 6:1–8, describing it as “the would-be preacher experiencing the word of God coming to him.“ This moment becomes the basis for what he calls the mysterium tremendum—a Latin phrase meaning “an overwhelming encounter with God’s holiness and mystery.”

Even when his language grows dense, that desire for spiritual depth and wonder stands out as one of the book’s greatest strengths.

Appendices

Yang concludes the book with two helpful appendices: a sample syllabus and a course schedule for a class on Arts, Creativity, and Preaching. Both include excellent reading recommendations and curated YouTube links offering valuable material for exploring how the arts intersect with preaching. Although designed with the classroom in mind, these lists contain resources any preacher could find helpful, making them among the book’s most practical and immediately useful parts.

Conclusion

Arts and Preaching raises vital questions about how preaching must evolve in a culture driven by visual media, sensory engagement, and fragmented attention spans. Yang’s creative metaphors—Picasso, architecture, fashion, drama—offer intriguing entry points for reimagining how we approach sermons.

However, the book’s academic style, dense language, and narrow target audience limit its usefulness for practicing preachers. There’s real value here for scholars or anyone deeply invested in homiletic theory—but it’s not an easy read for the typical pastor preparing next Sunday’s sermon.

Bottom Line

I’m glad I read it—it’s given me much to think about and has sparked some new sermon ideas. The language can be challenging at times, but the ideas are worth hearing out. Volume two is already in the works, and I’m looking forward to seeing where Yang will go next.