If you were ever to examine the contents of a formal library in an English stately home, you might find that a high proportion of the volumes are leather-bound collections of sermons by Anglican clergy. Many of these published works were what we would now call vanity projects. The cost of printing and publishing was extraordinarily high, and it is hard to imagine that the reading public had an appetite for the 45-minute reflections by learned clerics. The people who were interested in reading these volumes were perhaps the authors themselves and those in their circle. I may be wrong in my surmise. Certainly, few people today have the patience or the stamina to read volumes of sermons of the 18th and 19th centuries.
Since retirement I have become a ‘consumer’ of other people’s sermons. This experience has made me become a critic of my own offerings in the past. Discovering the things that you like and dislike in other people’s preaching helps one to become retrospectively much more aware of personal failures in the past. I want to start with naming two things that I find irritating in the sermons I hear today. The first is the attempt by a preacher to be clever. One particular trick that is sometimes played by preachers are the lengthy quotes. A sermon of ten to twelve minutes can take one or possibly two quotations from a non-biblical source, but when there are seven or eight quotations from learned books or poems, the thread (if there is one!) is destroyed. All that is left is a preacher trying to be wise, and a congregation which is left confused by the way the argument of the sermon went over their heads.
The second great source of angst for me, at any rate, is the repeated use of biblical words or phrases without saying anything fresh about their meaning. Sometimes a single word with a strong biblical provenance like love, faith or salvation is repeated over and over again. Just because certain words are common in Scripture, it does not mean that they have a clear meaning that is current today. A preacher should pay close attention to the likelihood (even probability) that members of a congregation are carrying a degree of misunderstanding in their interpretation of biblical words and ideas. Biblical words or phrases have a variety of potential meanings. A preacher is permitted to suggest that our living in the 21st century affects the way we use words and it is important to realise that there are indeed areas of potential confusion in the way we use words now which does not help us understand scripture.
After listening to a sermon, I sometimes emerge from listening with one of these two complaints. The first is that I lost the plot somewhere about a third of the way through because I was trying to see the connection of the quotations mentioned and failing in the effort. The second complaint is that the preacher has been battering the congregation with his/favourite biblical words and phrases without giving a single new insight as to their meaning. To be told, for example, that the Christian command to love is central, is hardly edifying. The nuance of meaning in the word itself is enormous. In addition to using the word love, we need to engage with all the ways of understanding it in contemporary thought. What is the status of love in race relations for example? -or immigration? -or same sex partnerships? Every single biblical word which has currency in ordinary parlance needs to be used with extraordinary care. The potential for a congregation to lapse into their existing tramlines of thought, when presented with certain words, needs to be constantly challenged. A listener to our sermon about love, for example, must not be allowed to think only in terms of a Mills and Boon romance. Words like forgiveness and reconciliation all need to come over in a sermon context as words containing a challenge. We need to feel that sense of challenge, particularly if the word had that character when they were first used within Scripture or when coming from the mouth of Jesus himself.
In my final Lent as a parish priest in Scotland, I led a group on the meaning of certain common Bible words which were either easily misunderstood or allowed to have meanings that did not do justice to the ones in the Bible itself. On one evening I spent 35-40 minutes exploring in both testaments the word ‘Word’. On another evening I gave the same treatment to the word ‘memorial’. Without getting into the detail of these Lenten sessions, it has to be said that I allowed my commentary study and my linguistic understanding gained from both Hebrew and Greek, to come into play. Even if my small group might not remember all the detail, the main message was to say ‘never assume that because a word in the Bible sounds like one we use in day-to-day speech, that its meaning is exhausted by the common use today. Expect a deeper, even unexpected, meaning in these words’. Bible study will always go deeper than knowing the surface words of a modern translation. Perhaps one should also add: ‘Be very wary of a preacher who presumes to understand completely any text in Scripture. There is always more to be said!’
In writing the above I am not suggesting that deep linguistic analysis should be part of a sermon. Such exploration may need to be part of organised study groups or even through formal study. I would, however, want a listener to any of my sermons to have a sense that whatever I say is never the last word. There is always more to be discovered. If the presentation can be made sufficiently interesting that that the listener wants to hear more, then so much the better. Whatever is said in a sermon, I would always aim to ensure that there was always something to be taken away and remembered. It probably does not matter if the main thread of an argument is forgotten. It is more important if the preacher leaves behind a word, a picture or a story. The carefully placed anecdote/picture raises a sermon from an easily forgotten sequence of words to something to be mulled over and remembered. My own preference is for a vividly described visual image. I probably tend towards the picture or image as this is my preferred way of dealing with abstract ideas. If, by dwelling on an idea, it presents itself to me in a pictorial form, then I will share that image with a congregation. If the image is told well, it is likely to be remembered long after the rest of the sermon is forgotten. Better still, we may find that the remembered image links back to the main topic of the sermon.
The spiritual tradition of Ignatius of Loyola has given to Christian practice a legacy of image making. The encouragement, in that tradition, to create vivid representations of gospel events within the mind is a style of spirituality that used to be much spoken about. Having never been on an Ignatian retreat, I am not aware of whether this practice is much in evidence today. Nevertheless, I am instinctively drawn to this method as it makes the truth of the gospel encounter with Jesus an exercise of the imagination as much as of the mind. My exposure to the Orthodox traditions of visual encounters with pictures and icons also makes me want to explore the idea of ‘seeing’ the truth rather than understanding it. In the talk on icons that I used to offer to church groups, I would make great play of the idea in Orthodox spirituality that it is the job of the Christian to contemplate through seeing the mystery of God. It takes some adjustment to grasp this idea but once it is understood, people are grateful to have this special insight into another Christian culture. Perhaps in another blog I will say more on this topic.
In our final summary we have moved from the intellectualised habits of understanding to a simpler method which uses the capacity to see or visualise and to enjoy stories as a method of connecting with truth. If I am in any way correct that this method comes naturally to most human beings, then that should alter the way we engage with and present truth. It also perhaps indicates that our styles of sermon giving should adjust. Although I do not preach any more, I would always in theory want to enlist such tools for understanding in every sermon I preached. Perhaps I am hinting that this method is one worth following for others who exercise this sacred task of preaching. Everyone can see, or at least visualise in the mind, and everyone can follow a story. If truth is potentially found in such pictures or stories, then perhaps we should be offering far more of such preaching fare. Congregations may also be learning in this process to receive better something which is edifying, inspiring and life-changing.
The sermon was the best-selling form of all literature in the eighteenth century. It’s difficult to imagine why they would be published if people didn’t want to buy them, why they would buy them if they didn’t want to read them.
Indeed. It seems remarkable from the vantage point of today, but sermons would be required Sunday reading for many households (and were commonly read at other times, such as fast days). Secular literature was not generally consumed on the Lord’s Day (the eighteenth century was not the ‘age of negligence’ it is commonly characterized as being, and church attendance was vastly higher, in both relative and absolute terms, than today); sermons prevailed: reading ‘profane’ literature on the Sabbath would often be frowned upon, even in relatively impious homes. Moreover, there was no meaningful body of ‘self-help’ literature, as there is today: sermons filled that gap, and even that self-help literature which then existed was often written by clergy (think of John Earle’s ‘Microcosmographie’ or Robert Burton’s ‘Anatomie of Melancholie’) or by those laymen who aped clerical norms (such as Thomas Browne).
Sermons were often far longer than now, and often contained many marginal notes (often references to patristic or even heathen authors). Style was accorded a very high premium, and preachers with very fine styles – the ‘ever-memorable’ John Hales of Eton, Isaac Barrow, John Tillotson – were widely read more than a century after their deaths. The sermon would often follow the literary styles of the time: so there was, for instance, the phenomenon of the ‘macaronic sermon’ in the days when macaronic literature was in vogue (in the middle of the eighteenth century). They were also replete with scriptural allusions; congregations were invariably steeped in Bible-lore to a degree we would now consider incredible, and would usually recognize the references without prompting.
Many clergy submitted volumes of sermons to obtain DD degrees, and to generate income. Parish clergy of the eighteenth century often preached twice on Sundays, and services were far longer than today (three or four hours would be quite normal); the vast majority of parish churches had two services each Sunday (or three if there was communion); most of the time was taken up by the sermon, yet many clergy would not have the wherewithal or stamina to write two length sermons: hence the book of sermons by a distinguished preacher would be used, and there was a significant market for such volumes. There was little or no shame in reading a long sermon written by someone else from the pulpit. A community of farm labourers would therefore often be treated to very polished, erudite and subtle expositions of sacred subjects written by authors resident in London or the universities; naturally, such literature often went well over their heads. However, parts of the country would devour the messaging, since it was not uncommon for even modest crofts in lowland Scotland (for example) to have hundreds of volumes of heavy duty literature, especially during the nineteenth century, as the book market expanded and prices fell.
Thanks Froghole, I knew nothing of this background and your comment is an education in itself!
Do you know if sermons have always been delivered as speeches, or has there been congregational participation in the history of them? I get frustrated by having to sit and listen without asking questions or clarification (at university no lecture went by without someone engaging the lecturer) and yet it seems the way it has always done. I wonder how much more engaged the congregation would be if they join the preacher to think and puzzle through the sermon as it’s delivered.
Interestingly, there is more likely to be congregational participation (sometimes in the form of interruptions) in ‘working class’ churches. That was something I found refreshing when I had a parish on a tough estate.
In black churches in southern USA, of course, there is a long tradition of audience participation and dialogue between preacher and congregation. I don’t know if this is also true of black churches in the UK, or of other ethnic groups anywhere.
I do think the ‘preacher six foot above contradiction’ model is cultural, rather than universal; I don’t know how historical it may be. Froghole might!
In response to you and Peter B, it may have been the case that homilies took the form of dialogues between the homilist and the audience in the early patristic period; see 23-24 here: https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=iekKzqmqC7cC&pg=PA21&source=gbs_toc_r&cad=4#v=onepage&q&f=false
However, context is all. I suspect that many sermons preached outside, at preaching crosses (there are so many in churchyards) or wayside shrines and in market places, did take the form of dialogues. Unfortunately, there are relatively few records, so evidence is a problem. Where there are records, the evidence can be ambiguous, the Franco Cardini’s study of medieval Franciscan exempla showed how preachers would deal with objections raised by the audience, which suggests that they were more than merely passive. Yet the great studies of medieval Parisian reportationes by Roberto Rusconi, Louis-Jacques Battaillon and others (of sermons preached in the great churches of the city when the university was at or near its zenith) do not evidence such interventions; it suggests that scholastic preachers were simply listened to attentively, by audiences consisting as much of students and graduates, many of whom would have been in orders, as layfolk. A classic study, like that of Leith Spencer, does not indicate that preachers were interrupted or questioned, even if there is evidence of the quality of sermons preached; see chs. 2 (iv) and 3 (iii) here: https://archive.org/details/englishpreaching0000spen/page/n13/mode/2up?view=theater.
On the whole, therefore, I would suggest (very tentatively) that the sermon/homily as dialogue is a function of liminal Christianity: of the early years of the church, of dissenting conventicles in the early and fluid years of the Reformation, of the quasi-house churches of persecuted sects like the Waldensians, and of wayside preaching, but perhaps not even then. Let us say that it has generally been the exception, rather than the rule, at least from a relatively early point in time, and more definitely after the sub-apostolic/early patristic era. However, there may be others who know much more about this who might have a different view.
Delivering sermons in the 2020s is an unenviable task. Not only is almost everything now visual, in the online broadcasts largely remaining after lockdown, but many sermons are recorded. Admittedly few will find their place in an exquisitely leather-bound library, but in the rather more accessible web archive.
It is quite possible to view or hear the back catalogue preaches of many ministers. So your words can be analysed and sifted in perpetuity. Unless of course they’ve been redacted, as in the case of Jonathan Fletcher at Emmanuel Wimbledon.
For many speakers a different challenge remains: will anyone bother to listen? From the comfort of the public’s armchair, it is quite possible to switch off or, as a friend of mine does, switch between services for something more interesting. Or surf the internet at the same time, perhaps watching sport or doing online shopping. The days of being reprimanded from the pulpit for not sitting there with a physical bible open and, for brownie points, taking notes, are probably nearly over.
A good preacher will have listeners turning up, or tuning in, whenever they speak. That’s one reason I return to this version of Speaker’s Corner so frequently.
A poor speaker will soon see the voting feet. A dozen years ago or more, a church leader friend of mind was predicting simultaneous social media interaction as the sermon was progressing. He wasn’t far wrong as far as I can see. Like it or not that facility is now firmly embedded. Of course this can be resisted, but the people have learnt to expect to have a voice too, and the lack of this will limit the audience and likely reach of the sermon.
Thank you for this Stephen. I never managed to graft it into my preaching ministry but I do remember two American preachers who made it their regular habit to have a sermon talk back time where members of the congregation who wished could gather at the front at the end of the service to ask and talk with the preacher about what had been said. It has good biblical precedent after all and allows the preacher to expand or correct anything that needed it.
Four thoughts.
1. Thinking of the use (or misuse) of Christian words, I once preached a sermon in which the theme was “proleptic” – the idea of “now and not yet” salvation. But I never actually mentioned the word (although my wife guessed what I was up to!).
2. Thinking of published sermons: good sermons must, I contend, be more than abstract theological musings but relate specifically to the time and contexts in which they are preached. This, to me, means that they don’t “age” or “travel” well unless those contexts are made clear in the published versions.
3. Many churches now post video or recorded sermons on their websites – not just as a consequence of Covid! I’d much prefer to read a well-written script than listen to 20 minutes of talk on my computer, (Perhaps, though, some of the preachers use notes rather than a script – which, if used badly, can be stutifyingly dull!)
4. You talk about using striking illustrations – and of course there’s always the danger that listeners will remember them but not the point that’s being illustrated! However what dio you think about using real visual images (not headings but pictures), probably projected onto a screen, during a sermon? Are they helpful in a visual society or merely a distraction?
I began one of my sermons by apologising for moving around, because I’m waiting for hip replacements. Loads of people wished me luck with that, only one mentioned the sermon itself!
Thank you, Stephen, for as it were speaking up for the long-suffering laity. Your point about the employment of scriptural buzz words is especially well put. I would add that a particularly frustrating habit of preachers is to use the body of the sermon to set up some problem or pose some question and then produce, like a rabbit from a hat, a word such as Love as the solution, QED. Often in the form Godzluv, as a kind of portmanteau concept that solves everything. My experience is of feeling completely short-changed: the sermon ends precisely where the problems begin, e.g. how does ‘love’ work in office politics? (Too few priests have had enough of a secular career to be able to envisage such challenges!). I agree about the use of vivid imagery, and it would be good if that could replace another annoying feature of sermons, namely the extended story, either concerned with some incident in the preacher’s experience, or centred on some specialized area of interest such as football, opera, mountaineering, or the like. As regards Ignatian spirituality, it’s all the rage in the Oxford area: we have been involved with several clergy for whom it’s the main spiritual experience they have known.
Nice post. Thank you
Having sermon series pre-announced by topic can be a mixed blessing. Some years ago a single friend of mine would studiously avoid attending the regular repeats of the “marriage/singleness” talks. Her experience was that the message tended to be patronising.
Of course choice of content is often within our grip as “consumers”, like it or not.
In the case of your single friend the pre-announced topic was certainly a blessing! It enabled her to avoid unhelpful, and possibly hurtful, sermons.
I don’t preach now, but I used to find that telling a story was a useful way of bringing a Bible narrative to life for people, especially all-age congregations. Usually this involved thinking myself into one of the characters who was present, or might have been present, such as a servant woman in the house of Simon the Pharisee when Jesus came to dinner (this was when a woman washed Jesus’ feet with expensive ointment).
Story-telling enabled me to bring in explanatory detail without sounding like a history lesson. More importantly, it enabled the listeners to draw their own conclusions from the narrative – which is why Jesus used his stories (parables) to such good effect.
Trevor Dennis published several volumes of his stories on Bible texts, and they are well worth reading. His technique is rather different to mine and I find them very refreshing. I particularly like ‘At Heaven’s Gate’, which opens up a new perspective on the Prodigal Son/Elder Brother.
I think probably everyone in our congregation still remembers the sermon which began, “Oh, I hate Jesus!” It was a moment before we twigged the preacher was one of the following crowd! He finished up by describing how challenging he found Jesus’ message , and saying, “No, I don’t hate him really” , and left the pulpit still in character. Powerful stuff.
I still remember a sermon where a friend’s mother stormed out and slammed the doors. To be honest I hadn’t really being paying attention to what the speaker was saying to upset her so much. I have vague recollections of an attack on “woosy” people. It woke me up though!
I think you’re right Janet
It’s one thing to sit here and critique sermons, but quite another to deliver one. Some never find public speaking easy, some thrive on it. Within the second category are a few who overestimate their own abilities. I do feel it’s sad when a significant part of ministry is not naturally within the gifting of the speaker. There are also those with a natural flair who abuse the indulgence of their regular audience with ill-prepared ramblings.
As a listener, I do find myself giving a lot more attention to a speaker who I respect, particularly one who has bothered to engage with me personally. It doesn’t need to be much by the way. Looking back over the years I’m indebted to a few clergy who cared for me personally. I’ll always listen to them, even when our churchmanship may have diverged a little.
An excellent post Stephen.
One irritation of mine is preachers making illustrations about them, and telling stores that they come out of well.
I’ve recently been visiting new churches. A couple of weeks ago the preacher talked about how God led people to gift him and his family bicycles, and someone had recently given his son a £1000 bicycle.
As he spoke I sat there thinking about my 20 year old bike with bent wheels, wondering what I have to do to have God lead people to give me expensive things. Or why he won’t.
The preacher went on to say how he’d felt God prompting him to give someone a bicycle he was selling (that he’d been given) but he didn’t want to because he wanted the money. Of course it ended up he did give it away and there was something about blessing, but I had stopped concentrating by then because I’d worked out where this was going.
Personal aggrandisement has no place in preaching.
The most striking opposite to this I’ve experienced was preaching by Malcolm Duncan at this year’s Spring Harvest. I had no idea who he is and not much more now. In contrast to preachers on surrounding nights, he got up on stage, put the focus on Jesus, talked about the good news for 30 minutes and sat down. I don’t recall one mention of himself throughout.
There is a place for personal illustrations, to highlight redemption, sinfulness and humanity. I wonder if they are better placed in small group or one-to-one settings though, as when used properly make you vulnerable.
The example you give is particularly egregious – it smacks of prosperity theology as well as ego.
A lot of people do respond to personal illustrations, however – when I gave a series of Radio 4 Prayer for the Day slots recently, they actually asked me to put something about myself in each one. That surprised me, but I think the idea is that it makes the talks and themes relatable.
Personal “stuff” can be helpful as Janet says (and does) or it can be inane or as in this case downright greedy and manipulative.
My particular dislike is for the inane stuff, like one bloke talking about his cat or his weeds. Fatuous. One thing to note is that whenever we speak, whether we say little or a lot about our lives we universally reveal a great deal to the observant.