What kind of preaching do we need to mark the milestones of our faith—Baptism, Confirmation, marriage and funerals? In its third season, “Preach” steps beyond its usual Sunday lectionary focus to present a new series on how preaching shapes us through these pivotal passages of faith.
But before turning to the sacraments, the season begins with a fundamental reminder: What is preaching, and what is it for? To explore that question, host Ricardo da Silva, S.J., invites the Rev. Lynn Barger Elliott—a preacher who has inspired him to think about this question in recent months. As a fourth-generation Presbyterian pastor and consultant for the Compelling Preaching Initiative—the Lilly Endowment project that supports this podcast—Lynn brings the wisdom of that legacy to remind us that preaching takes root in lived experience.
“I personally needed a story to help interpret [Scripture] so that I could make [it] meaningful in my own life,” Lynn says, explaining her approach to good preaching. In this episode Lynn recalls how witnessing her mom undergo back surgery gave her new insight into a passage from Hebrews, where the word of God is likened to a two-edged sword, “piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow” (Hebrews 4:12). “It gave me a new way to interpret words of Scripture,” Lynn says, “that are double-edged and sharp in every direction.”
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A reflection on the Letter to the Hebrews 1:1-2 and 4:12-13 by the Rev. Lynn Barger Elliott
I wonder what a Logos dinner party might look like. I had that thought after fussing with the inner linear for our passage, because Logos is translated very differently throughout the New Testament. It could mean a word, a speech, a report, an account, a collection of wisdom, an incarnation.
You see Logos, which is often translated as word, is used by biblical authors in different ways, 69 different ways to be exact. In very distinct ways. Which made me imagine a Logos dinner party.
In my mind’s eye, I saw the guests gathered around an Aleppo pine table as appetizers are served. Freshly baked flatbread with a nice olive tapenada. Plums with roasted vegetables.
At this Logos party, John 1 Logos is seated at the head of the table. He wears a stylish toga with his favorite Socrates belt buckle. A nod to his affinity to all things Greek. He’s known to elevate any conversation with philosophical wisdom inserted at pivotal turns in the dialogue. Most frequently, he clears his throat and quotes evenly and confidently, In the begin was the word, the Logos, And the Logos was with God, And the word was God.
And then I imagine Luke 7 Logos at the other end of the table. And she shares a report, as Logos is translated in this passage. A report of Jesus raising a widow’s son. Luke 7 Logos is always keen to share the latest news, reports, word on the street. Logos about the life of Jesus.
Acts 13 Logos, he’ll be seated towards the middle of the table. He never lets anything go. He always wants one more clarification. He might pull you aside as others are making their way from the terrace to the dining room and say, “I’d like a word.” During dinner, he interrupts the flow of conversations with his elbows on the table, a finger in the air, and says, “I have a word to say about that, a Logos.”
And then there’s Hebrews 4 Logos. Now, some have said this is the preacher’s Logos. It’s translated as an account, a statement and often a reckoning. The other guests think of Hebrews 4 Logos as energetic, a bit prickly, to be honest, but always curious. Our passage describes this Logos as active, sharp in all directions and attaining to the point of uncovering and revealing the truth. Can you see this Logos dinner party?
The Greek philosopher, the breaking news reporter, the tenacious clarifier, the exacting preacher, all gathered around a table, reaching for the bread.
Well the truth is, most 87-year-olds are advised not to undergo intensive spinal surgery. Then there’s my mom. She celebrated her 80th birthday kayaking in Antarctica. But in her 86th year, she started to feel intense back pain. She began to hunch over, finding it hard to stand up straight. She started to use a cane and then wouldn’t go anywhere without a walker.
She saw doctors getting second and third opinions. She went to physical therapy, had x-rays, MRIs and cortisone shots. Everyone said there’s nothing they could do. Then she heard about a surgeon in Philadelphia. Some called him the spine whisperer. Others called him a miracle worker. We called him Dr. Welsh. He explained that he does over 500 of these surgeries a year and was confident that within a two-hour surgery, he would be able to reduce her pain and get her standing straight up again. And so this past January 7th, at Pennsylvania Hospital, after almost five hours in the operating room, it was announced in the waiting room that there was a call from me.
Dr. Welsh was on the line. And in those moments, your stomach drops as you reach for the phone on the wall. I perhaps too eagerly asked, “How did it go?”
Dr. Welch paused two seconds. And when a doctor pauses two seconds, that’s a long two hours.
He said, “Okay. It went okay. I’m exhausted.”
Now, in a waiting room, after five hours in surgery, “okay “is not what you want to hear. “Great” would be the appropriate response. As he described it, Dr. Welsh, in the words of Hebrews 4, divided joint from marrow.
Under the edge of his scalpel, he uncovered what no one else could see. Scar tissue, which had built up, he estimated for over 30 years. He explained that before he could address my mother’s spine, he needed to remove that scar tissue. That’s what took the extra time. Dealing with what was uncovered.
Scholars have debated over this, but what we know as the Letter to the Hebrews was likely less of a letter written to the congregation and more of a sermon. And when you read this chapter in the New Testament, you’ll recognize that it’s written for the ear. You’ll pick up on the attention to cadence and the intention for a sound bite. You’ll also sense a pastoral urgency. As best we know, something had gone awry. As I thought about this congregation, it felt like, as with my mother, they were starting to hunch over, to not move so well.
They were tired, maybe tired of serving others, tired of recruiting new leaders, tired of the spiritual struggle. As one scholar pointed out, members were starting to drift away, and not just from their community, but from their face. The community was in need of attention, a remedy, a healing.
And it is into that situation that Hebrews Logos offers a path forward. And what did it look like? Logos.
Hebrews Logos prescribes surgery. And who is the surgeon? And you guess?
Indeed, the Logos of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow. This Logos is able to judge the thoughts, the intentions of the heart and before him no creature is hidden. But all are naked and laid bare, for the eyes of the one, to whom we must render our own account, our Logos, our Word.
I suspect we know people, or perhaps we are the people in the Hebrews community. Some of our members are tired. Others are drifting away. Maybe we are tired. Our commitment is fading. I think it can be said that the author of Hebrews gets us.
My mother’s three-day hospital stay turned into eight days. The recovery was longer and harder than anyone expected. But I’m happy to share, just a few weeks later, she stood up straight. She walked down her hallway and returned the walker to its rightful owner.
Friends, like the authors of our Holy Scriptures, we too will have a choice of words. As preachers and teachers, we will discern the appropriate logos for such a time as this. Within our congregations, our communities, even our nation, may it be a living, active word, one that uncovers and reveals, one that allows the listener to stand up straight and to render, to offer logos, their own word.

