• Six Points for Preachers

    I’m scheduled to attend a conference on preaching soon so inevitably I’m thinking about how preaching works and about how to extend my homiletic repertoire.

    Someone asked me a good question yesterday – “How did you improve as a preacher”. It is a good question because it is affirming and something that all preachers should be able to have a go at answering. (It was asked of me incidentaly by someone who has never heard me).

    I remember long ago during my curacy, one of my training rectors (I got through more than most) saying after one of my sermons “That was good, you’re going to be an excellent preacher one day”. What was intended to be a compliment made me fizzing mad. I wanted to be excellent than (and maybe even thought I was).

    I wasn’t, but I know I’ve got better.

    Which leads me to six things that I think have helped me:

    1 – Accepting that there is always more to learn. When you think you’ve got preaching sussed, you are a long way from even beginning to get better. Everyone can improve. Learning to learn is a learnable skill.

    2 – Putting it online. I’ve got better as a preacher since I started putting sermons online. Why? Well, for two reasons – firstly, because I listen to myself preach when I’ve made a recording and that allows me to reflect on what worked and what didn’t. Secondly because I know who might listen – people who taught me; people who are close enough to me to be honest with me; people who are apt to criticise me. I preach not only for those sitting in church but for all the rest who might be listening along – including the angels. It may be that those who are most help in learning how to preach are those whose opinions you value the most and those whose opinions you value the least. Listen to both.

    3 – Learning to fail boldly. To preach is to risk. Accept it and know that sometimes what you hoped for won’t work. Experiment. Play.You don’t have to fit it all into one sermon and you are not going to be 100% right all of the time so why pretend?

    4 – Trying to learn what makes people smile. That is different in different places. People usually like it when you tell stories about yourself. But be careful for local variations. I was recently in a place where someone said “Don’t try self deprecatory humour here. if you do they’ll say, ‘Oh, you’re not that bad’ and give you a self-help book.”

    5 – Knowing that people like it when you give something of yourself. Yes, preaching, like blogging, is a striptease. Don’t show them everything. But know that if you don’t show them anything they may go away disappointed. Reveal yourself. That’s what God has given you and in the bizarre economy of the Kingdom of God your own feeble experience of God may be the pearl of great price. But only if you keep sharing.

    6 – Realising that people need to be told that God loves them. And told again. And told again.

9 responses to “The Lament Question”

  1. kimberly Avatar

    ask it in the singular, and the answer is: because you’re a four.

    you’ll have me playing the funeral ikos next.

  2. kimberly Avatar

    the other answer is about possibility being revealed in limits.

  3. kelvin Avatar

    Its not just me though, and not just fours.

  4. Aaron Orear Avatar

    I think because sorrow touches the core of the human condition – we are mortal but can perceive immortality. “He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” (Eccl. 3:11)

  5. Erp Avatar
    Erp

    I understand Aristotle talks about catharsis and various philosophers have followed up on that idea.

    Perhaps it arouses sadness both from the art itself but also from our own sources festering within and allows us to let go. We feel better for the letting go, the lessening of our own internal sadness, and so perceive the art as beautiful.

  6. RosemaryHannah Avatar
    RosemaryHannah

    Kimberly was there before me. However, even I, a nine, can sometimes see the beauty in sad things. For me they do two things (may be more but two are most obvious). The first is the catharsis thing. The second is to make me less lonely. Look, here am I weeping, but all around me people sit in the same sorrow. It is not just my sorrow – I am not alone.

    I have long thought there is another answer, one I do not properly understand but I have (I think – and who am I to think it). Deep in God there is a huge well of sorrow. Unless we experience sorrow we cannot understand God. When we sorrow we tap into that well, and become closer to him.

    And being a nice cheerful nine, I will now add that I live in hope that having sorrowed with him, we will share also and even more fully in the joy which swallows the sorrow. Delete this last paragraph from your mind on reading, it will only spoil the joy of the sorrow.

  7. Elizabeth Avatar
    Elizabeth

    Edgar Allan Poe said the most beautiful thing in the world is a beautiful, dead woman. Nice, eh?

  8. Ritualist Robert Avatar
    Ritualist Robert

    Surely it’s because the concept of beauty is independent from concepts such as ‘sadness’ and ‘happiness’ – just as a G major chord might be loud or soft, but that volume has no effect on its G major-ness.

  9. Steve Avatar
    Steve

    I remember Augustine saying (don’t ask me where) that for a picture to be beautiful it requires dark colours as well as bright.

    There is also a hint of an answer in this poem by Edwin Muir:

    Yet still from Eden springs the root
    As clean as on the starting day.
    Time takes the foliage and the fruit
    And burns the archetypal leaf
    To shapes of terror and of grief
    Scattered along the winter way.
    But famished field and blackened tree
    Bear flowers in Eden never known.

    Blossoms of grief and charity
    Bloom in these darkened fields alone.
    What had Eden ever to say
    Of hope and faith and pity and love
    Until was buried all its day
    And memory found its treasure trove?
    Strange blessings never in Paradise
    Fall from these beclouded skies.

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