_PREACHING_ (i.).
_Earthen vessels, frail and slight,
Yet the golden Lamp we bear;
Master, break us, that the light
So may fire the murky air;
Skill and wisdom none we claim,
Only seek to lift Thy Name._
I have on purpose reserved the subject of Preaching for our closing
pages. Preaching is, from many points of view, the goal and summing up
of all other parts and works of the Ministry. What we have said already
about the Clergyman's life and labour, in secret, in society, in the
parish; what we have said about his study and use of the Book of Common
Prayer; all, so far as it has been true, ought to contribute its
suggestions as we approach this great theme.
THE PULPIT THE CENTRAL POINT.
For, indeed, "the Pulpit" (I use the word in its widest application,
wide enough to cover the mission-room desk, or the preaching place in
the open air) is no mere isolated item in the midst of other matters
which call for a Clergyman's attention. If the man is working, and
ordering his work, aright, the Pulpit will not be a something which has
to be taken by the way, a link in a long chain in which committees,
clubs, and social gatherings, and the like, are other and co-ordinate
links. It will be a sacred central point, the living heart of the busy
life, to which everything will bear relation. To the Pulpit everything
will somehow converge, and from the Pulpit everything will be
influenced. As the Pastor moves about amongst his people, he will be
gathering incessantly, from all parochial places and seasons, material
which will tell upon his sermons; he will be getting to know his
people's minds and lives with an intimacy which will give his preaching
to them a point which otherwise it could not have. And when he stands in
the Pulpit, this continually accumulating knowledge will come out, not
indeed in the way of diluting or distorting his Gospel, but so as to
give its eternal and holy message a point and closeness of application
which will ensure its "coming home," as God gives the blessing.
TEMPTATIONS TO FORGET THIS.
It needs thought and care to keep the parish and the sermon thus _en
rapport_. But such thought and care is infinitely well worth taking.
The Clergyman who longs to be useful for his Lord in the highest degree
he can be, cannot possibly think lightly of his sermons. Yet he may be
tempted, half unconsciously, to treat them too lightly in practices,
particularly if he is beset with a consciousness that he is not "a born
preacher," or if he stands in the opposite danger of having a "fatal"
facility of speech. Let the Clergyman only remember that his sermon, his
public delivery of instruction, of exhortation, in the Lord's name, is
not to be an exhibition of his own powers of thought or utterance, but a
faithful message-bearing to his own flock, in the light of what he knows
of Christ and the Word on the one side, and of the needs of the flock on
the other, and he will find a most useful encouragement, or a most
useful corrective, as the need may be. "O my Lord, I am not eloquent,"
[Exod. iv. 10.] will be no disheartening thought, as he carries to the
pulpit the ever-growing weight of pastoral experience, all giving point
and freshness to the unalterable message. And the secret temptation to
think the sermon a light thing because mere words come easy, will be
powerfully counteracted in the other case not only by contact with the
realities of life in the daily work, but by remembering that the sermon
will have to do with not an abstract audience but _these particular_
souls and lives thus laid on the man's conscience and affections.
THE PASTOR PREACHES TO THOSE PARTICULAR HEARERS.
Let me repeat it as earnestly as I can. The sermon, if it is to be what
it should be, should be affected at every point by the facts of the
preacher's own inner life, and by those of his intercourse with his
people. Those facts must, of course, be thoughtfully weighed and
handled. The tact which is so important in a Pastor, and which is best
learned and developed in the school of Christ's love, will see
instinctively how to apply in preaching the experience gained in prayer,
in conversation, in every branch of ministering life. We shall remember
that indefinite harm, not good, may be done when a man, particularly a
young man, unwisely preaches what may fairly seem to be personalities; I
have known some sad instances in point here. But taking that for
granted, assuming the good sense and sympathy of the preacher, I am
quite sure that the most eloquent sermon, adapted to _any_ audience, is
far less likely to be blessed and used by our Lord than the sermon which
is penetrated with the Pastor's personal intimacy with _that particular_
audience, and which goes therefore straight from him to them.
It has been well said that preaching may be described as "truth through
personality"; not merely the presentation somehow of so many facts and
thoughts, but the presentation of them through the medium of a living
man, who brings into the pulpit his heart, his character, his
experience, and so gives out his message. We may add to this suggestive
dictum that the true pastoral sermon is also "truth _to_ personalities";
the living man's delivery of the message to living men and women whose
life, more or less, he knows. And so it presupposes some real amount of
pastoral intercourse, intelligently brought to bear on pulpit work.
PREPARE SERMON IN THE PARISH.
I linger a little over these thoughts, though they are little more than
introductory. For experience tells me how easily, in these days, the
Clergyman is tempted to dislocate his "parish work" from his sermons, to
the great loss of one or both parts of his duty. And if once he begins
to think of his sermons as a thing really apart, which must be got
through somehow, but rather as a mere duty than as a vital ministerial
function, the results will be sad for the sermons. So I lay stress on
the thought that the sermon-preparation ought to go on not only in the
study, over the Word, but in the parish, over the hearers of it. The
more constantly this is recollected, and put in practice, the less fear
will there be that the sermon will be a weariness either to people or to
preacher.
"LABOUR IN THE WORD."
But let me, however, entreat my younger Brother, by any and every means,
to watch and pray against a slack or low view of his function as a
preacher. From very many quarters at the present day we are invited to
slight our sermon-labour. Sometimes it is "work," organization,
committees, which is set against the sermon; sometimes it is the
reading-desk and the Communion Table--the liturgical functions of the
Ministry. Let pastoral activities and holy rites alike have ample place
in our thoughts and work; but for Christ's sake, my Brother in the
ministry of the Word and Sacraments, do not forget the Word. A Christian
Church where preaching sinks to a low ebb, where the labour of public
teaching and exhortation is neglected, in favour either of machinery or
ritual, cannot possibly--I dare to say it deliberately--be in a truly
healthy state now, and most assuredly is not laying up health and
strength for years to come. For the very life of our flocks, and of our
Church, and for the dear glory of our Master, let us "labour in the Word
and teaching." [1 Tim. v. 17.]
"LITHO SERMONS."
Is it necessary, in the case of any reader of these pages, that I should
not only appeal thus in general, but add one special entreaty--always to
preach _your own_ sermons? Probably it is not necessary; but it may be
"safe" [Phil. iii. 2.] nevertheless. Not long ago I was distressed to
read, in the advertisement columns of an excellent Church newspaper, a
conspicuous announcement of a series of "_litho sermons_," that is, I
suppose, sermons so printed as to look like manuscript. If such
literature has a sale, it is a miserable fact. Can these discourses
possibly be either written by a "man of the Spirit," or used by such a
man? I say, No. The production of them (in order to be lithographed),
and the use of them in their "litho" state, are untruthful acts,
untruthful in the very sanctuary of truth. The Lord pardon--and the Lord
forbid!
Better the most stammering and incoherent utterances of a man who loves
the Lord, and the Word, and the flock, and who in Christ's Name does his
best, than the unhallowed, and usually, I think, vapid glibness of such
acted as well as spoken falsehoods.[27] And surely, the more the
Clergyman keeps his pulpit and his parish in living relation, the less
will he be tempted, be it ever so remotely, by any exigencies, to dream
of expedients such as these.
[27] I am far from saying that the preacher should never get help from
other men's sermons. This may be done honestly and usefully, in many
ways. But to let another man's sermon pass as one's own is a sin.
"DR SOUTH IN THE AFTERNOON."
Quite conceivably, there may be rare occasions when another man's sermon
may be rightly used by you. But then, of course, you will do it
honestly and above-board, telling your people whose it is. In Addison's
_Sir Roger de Coverley_ there is a pleasant scene, where the venerable
Knight asks the Parson who the preacher for next Sunday is to be. "The
Bishop of St Asaph in the morning," replies the good man, "and Dr South
in the afternoon."[28] That is, he was about to read, openly and
honestly, a sermon of Beveridge's, and then a sermon of South's;
neither, certainly, in lithograph. I do not say he did the best for his
people in so doing; most certainly he could not "speak home" to the
details of their village life, and its temptations, if he spoke only in
the phrase of the two classical pulpit-masters. That _rapport_ of parish
and pulpit of which I have spoken could not have been much felt, at
least on that coming Sunday. But the good Parson was honest, however.
The practice of which I speak is not honest.
[28] "He then shewed us his list of preachers for the whole year, where
I saw with a great deal of pleasure Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop
Sanderson, Dr Barrow, Dr Calamy, with several living authors."
(_Spectator_, No. 106, July 2nd, 1711.) Calamy by the way was a
Presbyterian, made one of the King's chaplains at the Restoration.
WE MUST PREACH ATTRACTIVELY.
Let me come now to a closer view of the preacher's work, and I will be
as practical as possible. I have besought my Brother to let nothing
tempt him to push his preaching into a neglectful corner. Let me now
beseech him to remember that he must not only be a diligent preacher,
but do his very best to commend his preaching to his people,--to be, in
a right sense, _attractive_.
I deliberately say, attractive. That word, of course, suggests some very
undesirable applications. It is only too possible to aim at
attractiveness by bad methods. We may tone down the Gospel-message,
leaving out unpopular and man-humbling truths, and try to "attract"
people so. We may strive to "attract" them to hear us by doubtful
external accessories (of very different kinds), which, after all, will
rather attract attention--for a season--to themselves, than to the
message, and the Lord. But none the less it is every Clergyman's plain
duty to make his preaching, so far as he can, lawfully attractive. It is
his duty to see that he preaches Christ Crucified; and "the offence of
the Cross" [Gal. v. 11.] will always occur, sooner or later, in such
preaching; but it is his duty to see that there is no other "offence" in
it, so far as he can help it. If he so speaks of sin, and righteousness,
and judgment, that the unregenerate heart does not like it, though the
preacher has spoken wisely and in love, that is not the preacher's
fault. If he has so magnified Christ, and the glory and fulness of His
salvation, that it sounds like exaggeration to the unspiritual hearer,
though the words have been said in all reverent reality, that is not the
preacher's fault. But it _is_ his fault if he has repelled his hearers
from his message by what is not the message, but his own setting of it;
his spirit, manner, his delivery, his neglect of some plain precautions
against prejudice and weariness. Of a few such precautions I come now to
speak; and first, of what I may call the most external amongst them.
NEEDFUL AND NEEDLESS OFFENCES.
Beginning, then, with physical precautions against needless "offences,"
[Greek: skandala], in our preaching I say first, let us do our best to
be _audible_.
AUDIBILITY: MEANS TO IT.
The word sounds almost amusingly commonplace. But it must be said. Many
more of us Clergymen than know it, or think about it, are not audible.
The lack of training for the bodily work of the pulpit, in our Church,
is serious; far more is done in this way among our Nonconformist
brethren.[29] And accordingly there are numbers of young English
Clergymen who read and speak without a thought of methodical audibility.
They do not articulate distinctly. They do not remember that the _pace_
and _force_ of utterance, fit for a private room, are quite unfit for a
large building. They do not know, perhaps, how extremely important is
the articulation of consonants, and of final syllables of words, and of
closing words in a sentence. They do not know that a certain equability
(not monotony) of voice is necessary, if the utterance is to "carry" to
the end of a long church, or a church of many pillars.
[29] Let me cordially commend the Rev. J.P. Sandlands' book, _The Voice
and Public Speaking_. Mr Sandlands has done, and is doing, admirable
work as an oral teacher of clerical elocution, in the intervals of his
parochial labours.
PLEASANT AUDIBILITY.
Or again, they do not know, or do not remember, that audibility is not
secured by mere loudness and bigness of voice, nor again by raising the
voice to a high pitch. "People tell you to speak up," said that
excellent elocutionist, Mr Simeon; "but I say, speak down," down as
regards the musical scale. Again, the larger the building the more
accentuated must be the articulation, and the more limited the variation
of pitch; but too often this is not thought of by the preacher.
Further, it has to be remembered, but it is frequently forgotten, that
the audibility we should aim at is a pleasant and attractive audibility.
It is a great thing to be easily heard; which of us does not know the
combined physical and mental labour of listening to a sermon, or a
speech, which only reaches us indistinctly? But it is a greater thing to
be pleasantly heard; heard so that the listener finds nothing to tire
and repel in the utterance. Here, of course, different voices give very
different advantages; but there are some common secrets, so to speak,
which all--who will make a sacred business of it--may profitably and
effectively use. Above all, there is the secret of quiet naturalness;
the watchful avoidance (do not forget this) of tricks and mannerisms in
delivery;[30] the watchful cultivation of the sort of utterance which we
should use in an earnest conversation on grave subjects, with only such
differences as are suggested by _the size_ of the place in which we
speak. Of some other "common secrets" I shall speak when I come to the
question of style and phrase.
[30] I have known a sermon which in matter and style were really
excellent made, to some hearers at least, almost unendurable by the
accident that the preacher had got the habit of (needlessly) _clearing
his throat_ at the end of almost every sentence.
FIND A CANDID FRIEND.
How shall we best work upon such hints? Very largely, by the use of the
plainest common-sense and every-day observation on our own part. But
largely also by trying to find some friend, equally kind and candid, who
will help us "to hear ourselves as others hear us." For myself, after
twenty-five years, I welcome more and more gratefully every such
criticism as the occasion presents itself. Let the Curate ask his Vicar
to tell him without mercy if his utterance, his articulation, is clear;
if his manner is natural; if his preaching is or is not easy to listen
to in these respects. And let friend ask friend; let pastor ask
parishioner; let husband ask wife!
GOOD ENGLISH.
There are other directions in which we must cultivate attractiveness.
There is English style. Here, again, gifts differ widely in detail, yet
there are common secrets open to common use. It is open to every one to
avoid, on the one hand, an ambitious, long-worded style; on the other, a
style which many young men of our time are in more danger of
patronizing--the slovenly, shapeless style, in which the Queen's English
is very "freely handled," and into which the broken English of an
ever-growing _slang_ not seldom makes its way. These defects have only
to be recognized, surely, to be avoided, by keeping our eyes open as we
read and our ears as we hear, and by remembering that the sacred message
of the King, while it is too great to be tricked out with false
rhetoric, is also too great to be slighted, not to say insulted, by a
really careless phraseology.
A GOOD STYLE IS A PRACTICAL POWER.
Pains will be needed, of course, as we pursue the object of a good
style. We must watch and think. We must read and observe good models,
the written words of men who have proved themselves powerful preachers
to the people, and indeed of men generally who are known masters of
English. We shall have, again, to consult candid friends. But my point
is, that all this is abundantly worth our while. A neat, straight,
well-worded sentence is not a mere literary luxury. It is a practical
power. It is far easier to listen to than a careless, formless sentence
is, and it is far easier to remember. The truth which it conveys is much
more likely, therefore, to find its way securely into the mind, and to
lie there ready for the vivifying touch of the Spirit of God.
I emphasize this matter of style, for in many quarters it is much
neglected, and some of my younger Brethren do, if I mistake not,
entertain the thought that the simplicity of the Gospel is best set
forth, and God most honoured, where plans and methods of language are
neglected. To speak about "a good style" to those who think so, may seem
perhaps little else than a recommendation to bid for human applause in
the line of literature. But my intention is far enough from this. Mere
literary ambition, the quest of the glory of self in this as in every
other line, is a forbidden thing to the true bondservant of the Lord.
But it is by no means forbidden him, for his Lord's sake, to aim at
clearness, point, force of expression, that the message may be the
better taken in. God is as little glorified by a bad style as by a bad
voice, or bad handwriting, or bad reasoning. And by a good style I mean
not a style polished and elaborated to please fastidious tastes (the
best taste, by the way, is best pleased with correct simplicity), but a
style which shall be both pure and plain in word and phrase,
"understandable of the people" yet such as not to vex those who care for
their native tongue, and just enough formed and pointed to make
attention pleasant to the ear. For average audiences, I know no style
more perfectly answering my idea than that of Mr Spurgeon,[31] in his
printed sermons of recent years. And I happen to know that Mr Spurgeon
has always taken great and systematic pains with his English.
[31] Since these words were written this great Christian and preacher
has passed away to his Master's presence.
FRENCH HEARERS OF ENGLISH.
Some preachers need much more than others a hint to keep their sentences
_straight_, and to avoid the tangle of parentheses, long or short. Here,
again, Mr Spurgeon gives me an admirable illustration. His sentences,
never thin or weak in matter, are always straight. If any of my younger
Brethren are tempted, as I confess I am, in the digressive direction, I
would recommend them (if they usually preach without writing) to _write_
a sermon now and then, and rigorously to exclude, or re-write, all
sentences which transgress. It occurred to me recently, when acting as a
summer chaplain in Switzerland, to find the benefit of a different
corrective. On one particular Sunday I had among my hearers in the
morning a French Presbyterian, in the afternoon a French Roman Catholic,
each understanding a little English; and in each case I had special
reasons for hope and longing that the sermon might bring some spiritual
help. Instinctively, I avoided every expression which could in the least
complicate my English and thus obscure the message to my foreign
friends. And so thankful was I for the pruning of periods that resulted,
that I am much disposed, in all future preaching, to put mentally
before me those same two hearers.
"WRITTEN OR EXTEMPORE?"
On that great question, Shall I preach from writing, or not? I say very
little. Speaking quite generally, and thinking now only of the regular
church congregation, not of the mission-room or open air, I would advise
my younger Brethren to write for some while, but usually with an
ultimate view to speech without writing. No hard rule can be laid down.
One man is so gifted that from the first he can express himself
correctly and well without any manuscript before him. Another finds, all
his life through, that he speaks best, and his people listen best, when
he reads (vividly and naturally) from his prayerfully-prepared
manuscript. But on the whole, I repeat it, writing is the best
discipline for a man in his early days of Ministry, while beyond doubt
the freely-spoken sermon, like the freely-spoken speech, (carefully
enough prepared as to matter and order,) is usually best to listen to,
and therefore should be the preacher's goal. Some men write their
sermons and then learn them by heart for delivery. For myself, I own
this would be a severe ordeal to nerve; and in very few cases, if I am
right, does it produce a perfectly natural effect. Not long ago, if not
now, it was a frequent custom in Scotland; and one amusing story comes
to my mind. A good minister, known to a near relative of mine, always
thus "mandated" his sermon, and punctually delivered it word for word.
One day a tremendous hailstorm assailed the church windows, and not only
did his parishioners fail to hear him, but literally he lost the sound
of his own voice. Yet he _dared not stop_, lest memory should play him
false; and when the storm ceased, "I found myself," he said, "with some
surprise, in a quite distant part of the sermon."
ORDER AND DIVISION.
Another important aid to attractiveness is order and division, simply
and sensibly managed. Nothing is much more repellent, at least to modern
hearers, than an excess of arrangement; headings and subdivisions
overdone. But nothing is more helpful to attention than a simple,
natural, luminous division, present in the preacher's mind, announced to
the audience, and faithfully carried out. Remember this, among many
other things, in the choosing of the text; _ceteris paribus_, that text
is best which best lends itself to natural division.
PAINS AND FAITH.
There are many other points, more or less of the exterior kind, so to
speak, which concern the attractiveness of our preaching. There is the
question of length, which can only be settled by careful and prayerful
consideration of special circumstances, with recollection of the general
principles that the morning sermon should be short compared with that of
the evening, and that he who would reach the hearts of the poor must not
give them "sermonettes," but sermons. There is the question of action, a
large subject. All that I can say is, that _some_ action is almost
always a help to attention, but that it proves the very opposite as soon
as it seems uneasy, or a mannerism.
I have yet to deal with some thoughts about the preacher's message, and
the inmost secrets of his power. Meanwhile, may our Lord and Master
enable us so to "labour in the Word" that we shall think no means too
humble which will really help us to make His message plain, and no
dependence on Him too absolute for the longed-for spiritual results.
"_Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul,
Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own,
Paul should himself direct me. I would trace
His master-strokes, and draw from his design.
I would express him simple, grave, sincere,
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain,
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
And natural in gesture; much impress'd
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge,
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too; affectionate in look,
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of grace to guilty men._"
COWPER.