“I was too busy
boning my kipper to notice what he said!”
That was the imaginative reply, given by one of my fellow Dominican
students. The prior had just asked him to
comment on the sermon I’d preached.
Once a year each of
us we students had to preach a sermon during the community’s supper. That was an excruciating experience for us
trainee preachers. We had to compete
with the clatter of cutlery and crockery, the squeaks and rattles from the food
trolley. Worse still, we had to imagine
that we were preaching to the typical ‘person in the pew,’ not to our Dominican
brethren.
Our fellow students went
through a different kind of ordeal. They had to listen to the preacher, knowing
full well that the prior would randomly select one of them to comment on the
sermon. While eating his supper –perhaps
boning his kipper - he had to be thinking of something intelligent to say. After his comments the prior would then ask
one of the priests in the community what he thought of the sermon. Finally the prior himself would have his say.
Three critics had a peck at the poor student preacher!
These refectory
sermons were an ordeal for all of us.
The preacher would never expect to have to
face such a critical congregation again, which was there to criticise rather
than to be inspired. Never would we have
to preach to an imaginary audience. Hopefully,
being thrown in at the deep-end so early in our Dominican life would toughen us
up for what would lie ahead. This training
exercise was probably good for us.
Sometimes the lessons
we learnt were very painful. There was
the student preacher who memorized his sermon, word
for word. Unfortunately when he opened
his mouth his mind went blank, paralysed with fear. All he could do was silently withdraw, followed
by the sympathy of just about everybody! That must have been a miserable for him! That taught me never to trust my sermons to
memory. I must always think on my feet
and at least have some notes to jog my memory, in case it should ever go blank.
As for the community
which had to listen to our first sermons –that was quite an ordeal. I’ve been both preacher and critic, so I know.
The meal was spoilt by our not knowing whether we would be asked to comment. Since each of us had to take his turn in
giving a refectory sermon our sympathies lay with the preacher of the moment.
We tended to give him encouragement. But
I do suspect that some critics were far too harsh and permanently scarred some
budding preachers. I know one who would never dare to preach in front of his
brethren, even though the congregation liked his sermons. I feel sure his critic would have been horrified
to learn of the devastating effects his comments had had.
This helped to make me
realize that I must place my preaching in God’s hands. I may have to accept that He may want lessons
to be drawn from my sermon, which I had not planned.
That can be hard to
take. The poor preacher who couldn’t
remember the sermon he’d carefully prepared had to accept the humiliation of
having to retire without having uttered a word. From this his listeners had to learn
compassionate understanding. That could
do them more good, and be more necessary, than the message the preacher had
planned to give.
And the preacher may
become ill and collapse during a sermon.
That’s happened to me. Although
everyone was so good in rushing to my assistance I hated all the fuss. But perhaps God wanted both the congregation
and me to appreciate and respond in a positive way to the vulnerability of us
preachers. For all of us that lesson
could have been more valuable than anything I’d planned to say.
Certainly it’s good
that I never take my preaching for granted.
Because I’m prone to blackouts I can never presume that I will be able
to finish a sermon. But more general
than that, preaching can be a frightening experience.
This sense of
inconsistency, if not hypocrisy, a sense of unworthiness can be terrifying,
even paralyzing. I’ve known preachers who have had sleepless nights, with upset
stomachs, before preaching a difficult sermon.
Another used to be physically sick in the sacristy before his sermons.
But I’ve found that in spite of my stage-fright the nerves disappear once I
start my sermon. People simply don’t believe me when I say I’m nervous before
every sermon. A bit of anxiety keeps me
on my toes and prevents me become complacent or casual in preaching.
My way of coping with
my sense of inadequacy is to remind myself that God chose the foolish of this
world to confound the self-styled wise. I readily number myself among the
foolish! In fact the people Jesus chose
to preach the kingdom were all flawed characters. If the preacher needed to wait till he was a perfect Christian before he dared to
open his mouth the Gospel would never be heard.
It’s good for all of
us to recognize that we’re not fit to preach the Good News. Not one of us practises what he
preaches. The only way I can continue is
to remind myself that I’m not holding up myself as an example of Christian
living. I’m recommending Christ, His way
of life, not mine. The world needs to
hear about Jesus and how to follow Him to the Kingdom of Heaven. I need to hear the Good News as much as
anybody else.
So in every sermon
I’m first of all preaching to myself –telling myself how I should be following
Christ. With every sermon I hold a
mirror up to my life and see how I distort the image of Christ, which I should
reflect. Hopefully I listen to what I’ve
said to the congregation and heed my own words.
So, I meet God
through heeding my own sermons, and trying to practice what I preach. I place the fears, the difficulties, my
limitations and failures in God’s hands.
He can turn everything to His purpose and draw goodness from it. But most importantly, we all meet God through
His word, sharing it and doing it.
I bet every teacher and
parent feels the same sense of inadequacy as I do in sharing my faith. If so,
let’s all remember that God has given us this task. He is with us as we do His work. He is Lord of the harvest and has guaranteed
a bumper crop, despite all the obstacles that make it difficult for us to hear
the Word of God. That certainly includes
the concentration required for boning a kipper!
