The Sermon Should Be Short.
The Discourses of the Fathers were short.
The French Mind is quick to apprehend.
Sermons are generally too long.
Sermons of Ten, Seven, and of Five Minutes.
"Long sermons bore us," [Footnote 16] says M. de Cormenin; "and
when a Frenchman is bored, he leaves the place and goes away. If
he cannot so retire, he remains and talks. If he cannot talk, he
yawns and falls asleep. Anyhow, he declares that he will not come
again. ..."
[Footnote 16: "_Nous ennuient._" It is useless to attempt
giving the full force of the French _ennui_ in any one
English word. That above adopted appears to me the nearest
approach to it which our language affords; still it comes far
short of the expressive original. Translator.]
The sermon should be short. At all events, it must not bore. Bore
or ennui is fatal in France, and is never pardoned. It has been
said, there are two things which are not permitted in France,
namely, to ridicule and to bore.
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Unhappily the former is allowed nowadays, for there are many who
use it, and many who abuse it; but on the article of bore society
is still inflexible and implacable. The man who is deemed a bore
is shunned and detested. We, the clergy, must beware of exciting
this antipathy on the score of religion; the more so, because
most minds secrete a stock of the sentiment, which is readily
called forth when they are brought in contact with any thing
serious.
On the other hand, why preach so long? I know not how we have
allowed ourselves to be led into these lengthy discourses. What
is the good of it? What is the object? We speak in God's name.
Now, power and majesty are always chary of words; yet such words
are not the less efficacious for being few. The instructions of
our blessed Lord, who is the Divine Master of us all, were
uniformly short. Even the Sermon on the Mount, which has
revolutionized the world, does not appear to have lasted more
than half an hour. The homilies of the Fathers also were short,
and Saint Ambrose says:--"_Nec nimium prolixus sit sermo ne
fastidium pariat; semihorae tempus communiter non excedat._"
Saint François de Sales, too, recommends short sermons, and
remarks that excessive length was the general fault in the
preachers of his time.
He says:--"The good Saint François, in his rules to the
preachers of his Order, directs that their sermons should be
short.
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"Believe me, and I speak from experience, the more you say, the
less will the hearers retain; the less you say, the more they
will profit. By dint of burdening their memory, you will
overwhelm it; just as a lamp is extinguished by feeding it with
too much oil, and plants are choked by immoderate irrigation.
"When a sermon is too long, the end erases the middle from the
memory, and the middle the beginning.
"Even mediocre preachers are acceptable, provided their
discourses are short; whereas even the best preachers are a
burden when they speak too long."
Is not long preaching very much like an attempt to surpass these
men, who were so highly imbued with the spirit of Christianity?
On the other hand, we have to deal with the most intelligent,
keen, and sensible people in the world. They understand a thing
when only half stated, and very often divine it. You hardly speak
before they are moved to accept or to reject; and yet we
overcharge them with long and heavy dissertations. To act in this
way, is to evince an utter unacquaintance with one's people, and
to display our own ignorance, in spite of all the learning which
we may possess. Moreover, it tends to excite antipathy.
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The Frenchman does not care to be treated like a German: he does
not wish to be told every thing, thereby depriving him of the
pleasure of working out the truth for himself. Open the vein,
lance his imagination and feelings, let them flow on the road to
truth, and he will pursue it alone; perchance more quickly and
further than you. Nothing impairs intelligence, sentiment, and
the effusion of thought so much as redundancy of words and even
of ideas.
A sharp working man, who had been listening to a sermon, was once
asked--
"What did the preacher say? What do you remember of his
sermon?"
"Nothing at all."
"How's that? Surely you heard him?"
"Perfectly."
"How is it, then, that you did not understand any thing?"
"Ah," replied he, in an original language, which only the
people can command, "because all he had to say was hid behind a
mass of words."
There is too much reminiscence of our philosophical and
scholastic studies in our sermons. It often appears as if we were
speaking to a meeting of young bachelors in theology. We seem to
believe--and the notion is generally taken for granted--that we
have not adequately developed an idea unless we discuss it for an
hour or for three-quarters of an hour at the least.
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Thus the audience is overwhelmed under the weight of a ponderous
erudition. It is not sufficient that they should have one proof
set before them, they must submit to any conceivable number on
the same subject. Or, to use M. de Cormenin's language, preachers
keep on using the flat side of their sword with weak proofs,
after they have given a decisive thrust with the weapon's point.
What has been said a thousand times before is repeated, and what
everybody knows, or what nobody needs to know, is dilated upon to
no purpose.
A man must be endowed with extraordinary genius who can bring
forcible thoughts to bear upon one and the same subject for the
space of a whole hour. But this consideration does not appear to
occasion the least embarrassment. The vacuities of thought are
filled up with words, and that is called developing an idea.
For the most part, we are all convinced that others speak too
long, but we are beguiled by the world's flattery.
We preach, and people are delighted, and send intimations to us
that we have acquitted ourselves to admiration; that they would
gladly have listened to us much longer, and so forth.
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But we know better than any one else that the world does not
always speak the truth, and that we ourselves have frequently
denounced its want of sincerity. How comes it, then, that we are
deluded by such fine speeches? In flattering us, the world simply
plies its trade; but it is our duty not to give heed to its
blandishments. Moreover, there prevails at present a strong and
universal conviction that, generally speaking, our sermons are
too long.
Ask whom you please, enemies and friends, ask even the most
fervent Christians--thanks be to God there are intelligent men,
and men renowned for their charity among the sincerely
religious--ask them, I say, and they will tell you that our
sermons and services are too long. And if pious and intelligent
men are of that opinion, what must the masses think?
Undoubtedly, the intention is praiseworthy. ... We aim at
securing a greater good by lengthening out the services and
sermon. Still, it is equally certain that in so doing we discard
both prudence and charity. It resembles the ordinary treatment of
wives, who insist on giving their sick husbands good strong
broth, on the plea that it will do them more good than all the
chemist's medicines. The intention is unquestionably a kind one;
but it is no less true that the regimen, instead of benefiting
the patients, is most likely to kill them outright. Alas! the
same result has followed a similar injudicious treatment of men's
souls.
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A man of high intellectual attainments, recently converted,
declared that the manner in which he was bored by sermons during
his youth, had kept him from listening to them for twenty years.
We complain, and with reason, that the masses have ceased to
frequent the church, and that sermons nowadays are not popular.
But do not we assist in driving them away? The services are
longer now than they were in the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, when there was more faith abroad among the people
generally.
Religion would most probably be greatly promoted if the sermon
and the services also were abridged. This might readily be
affected as regards the latter. Pitch your music out of the
window, or rather out of the door, as the former might not be
considered parliamentary. Or, take care at least that the polkas
with which your organist embellishes the _Magnificat_ shall not
occupy more than a quarter of an hour. With respect to the
sermons, they might easily be shortened without injuring them in
the least. Lop off all commonplace considerations from the
exordium, all useless discussions from the body of the discourse,
and all vague phrases from the peroration. Prune away all
redundant words, all parasitical epithets, using only those that
triple the force of the substantive. Be chary of words and
phrases; economize them as a miser does his crown-pieces.
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The people affect those thoughts which are formulated in a single
word. They like such expressions as the following:--_vive! ... à
bas! ... mort! ... vengeance! ... liberté! ... justice!_ These
simple words often move men more than a long discourse.
In this respect, however, there has been a marked improvement in
many of our churches. There are parishes in Paris where a rule
prevails that no one shall preach more than forty minutes. In
some popular meetings, preachers are not allowed to speak beyond
fifteen minutes, and it is there that the most good is done.
Nowadays, brevity is one of the first conditions of success, and
of promoting the welfare of souls.
The preacher who was most frequented at Paris during the Lenten
season this year, hardly ever exceeded half-an-hour. There are,
undoubtedly, many other rules to be observed, but brevity will
not injuriously affect any of them.
The people are easily impressed: they like to be moved; but
nothing passes away so quickly as an emotion. In order to bring
them back to the church, we must have sermons of ten, seven, and
even of five minutes duration. The Mass and the sermon together
should not exceed half-an-hour.
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This plan has been attempted. The experiment was made, and
produced the most happy and unexpected results. Intelligent and
zealous pastors, distressed at seeing that the greater part of
their flock scarcely ever heard the word of God or went to
church, established a low Mass, announced as specially designed
for the men, with a lecture of from ten to five minutes duration
every Sunday. ... Crowds flocked to the church, which was
sometimes found too small to hold them. Nor was this all: many
attended high Mass also, and even went to the confessional; which
they had not done, some for twenty, some for thirty, and some for
forty years. This success was obtained in irreligious as well as
religious districts, and under the most unfavorable
circumstances; even in populous manufacturing towns. And the same
plan is practicable everywhere. Frequently, nothing more is
required than a man to take the initiative with a right good
will, in order to attract crowds to the church and to religion.
But it will be objected: What can be said in ten or seven
minutes? Much, much more than is generally thought, when due
preparation is made, when we have a good knowledge of mankind,
and are well versed in religious matters. ... Have not a few
words often sufficed to revolutionize multitudes, and to produce
an immense impression?
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The harangues of Napoleon only lasted a few minutes, yet they
electrified whole armies. The speech at Bourdeaux did not exceed
a quarter of an hour, and yet it resounded throughout the world.
Had it been longer, it would have been less effective. In fifteen
weeks, with a sermon of seven minutes every Sunday, one might
give a complete course of religious instruction, if the sermons
were well digested beforehand. [Footnote 17]
[Footnote 17: We have chosen the seven minutes sermon,
because experience has taught us that it attracts the
greatest numbers.]
If, then, you wish to be successful, in the first place fix the
length of your sermon, and never go beyond the time; be
inflexible on that score. Should you exceed it, apologize to your
audience for so doing, and prove in the pulpit of truth that you
can be faithful to your word.
In your course of instruction, do not follow the old method which
commences with metaphysical questions and principles; but adhere
to the plan which we have indicated: start from the known to the
unknown. ...
In the first place, disconnect religion from all prejudices and
passions, and from every thing uncongenial. Discard all
objections and antagonisms. Exhibit it as good and lovely, then
true, then divine, then as obligatory, proceeding onward from
thence to God's commandments and to the sacraments. If you
apprehend that the term "God's commandments" does not
sufficiently strike your hearers, you may call them the duties of
an upright man.
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When about to compose your sermon, study your subject thoroughly,
grasp the salient points, and then write. ...
But do not stop there; begin afresh. Supposing that you have
written four pages, reduce them to two, taking care that all the
strong thoughts and sentiments remain. ... Use those terms which
belong to a single thought, those expressions which imprint
themselves--or, as the Scripture says, engrave the truth as with
a pen of steel--on the hearts of men, and which scatter it abroad
full of life and exultation. Nothing is so profitable as this
exercise: it cultivates and supplies the intellect, gives us a
deeper insight into Christianity and mankind, and it teaches us
how to think, and how to write. ...
During the reading of the Gospel, ascend the pulpit and be quite
ready. Place your watch by your side and begin thus:--"Last
Sunday we said so and so. To-day we continue." ... Then enter
fully into your subject, enlightening the minds of your hearers
or stirring up their hearts as may be suitable, during the
discourse. When the allotted time arrives, stop short and
conclude.
"But do speak more at length ... you are wrong in being so brief
... you only tantalize your audience ... you deprive them of a
real pleasure." Expostulations like these will pour in upon you;
but don't listen to them: be inflexible, for those who urge them
are enemies without knowing it.
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Be more rigid than ever in observing the rule which you have
prescribed for yourself. Then your sermon will be talked of--it
will be a phenomenon--every body will come to _see_ a sermon of
seven minutes duration. The people will come; the rich will
follow. Faith will bring the one, and curiosity will attract the
other, and thus the Divine word will have freer course and be
glorified. ...
If the men do not come, appeal to the women, and ask them to help
you. If you want to attract the women, announce that you intend
preaching specially for the men. You will find this method
infallible; the men will follow.
Moreover, go yourself and find them out: visit the workshops,
factories, and wharves. Be particularly attentive to those who
are shabbily dressed and ill-favored. On taking your departure,
tell them with a smile that French politeness--in which you feel
quite sure they are not deficient--demands that visits received
should be returned: that you will dispense with their coming to
you personally, but will expect to see them at the seven minutes
sermon. The result will not disappoint you.
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When you have many male hearers, you should reserve a space for
them. The women will complain that thereby they are placed
further away; but you must appease them with a compliment. Tell
them that you know their charity, and are persuaded that they
would not certainly wish to hinder the word of God from being
heard by those who need it most.
When you have well cultivated your congregation, when a strong
current of sympathy and charity has set in from them to you and
from you to them, when a number of conversions shall have been
made, then you may think of sending some of them to high Mass and
to Vespers. Don't fail to felicitate such:--"You have come hither
to hear me. So far well, and I am greatly rejoiced at it. Still
you may do something better: you may attend high Mass," adding
your reasons, and then conclude somewhat in this style:--"Now, I
hope that those who are rightly disposed will attend high Mass. I
only want the badly disposed, poor downright sinners, at my
sermons." You will be obeyed by some, and you will thereby do
much toward repopularizing religion; and when those who are not
converted fall sick they will say:--"Send for the man who
preaches the seven minutes sermon; I don't want any other." Thus
God will be blessed and glorified. ...
Here, then, you have a very simple and cheap means of restoring
the people to religion. It may be put into practice everywhere:
in great cities, in small towns, and even in hamlets. The subject
is one for serious reflection.
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Even in our most religiously disposed towns, hardly a third of
the inhabitants habitually hear the word of God. Elsewhere,
matters are still worse; and yet all are sheep of the same Divine
pastor, all have a soul to save. Moreover, according to all
theologians, every parish priest of a cure is required, _sub
gravi_, to preach at low Mass, whenever the faithful generally do
not attend high Mass. Hence, by pursuing the course above
indicated, we may not only save others but shall also exonerate
ourselves.
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