PART II.A SERMON.
CHAPTER I.THE FOUNDATION—SUBJECT—OBJECT—TEXT.
We have thus far discussed the subject of preliminary training, and have endeavored to show what natural qualities the preacher must possess, and how these can be improved by diligent cultivation. The importance of a wide scope of knowledge, and especially of that which bears upon oratory; of understanding and having some command of the powers of language; of having a personal experience of Christ’s pardoning love, and a heart filled with desire for the salvation of our fellow men; of believing that God has called us to the work of the ministry; has already been pointed out. When a man finds himself in possession of these, and is still a diligent student, growing daily in grace, he is prepared to preach the Gospel in “demonstration of the spirit and of power.” He is then ready to consider the methods by which all his gifts and acquirements may be made available, and wielded with mightiest effect in the service of his Master.
Some of the directions given in this and succeeding chapters are of universal application, while others are to be regarded only as suggestions, to be modified and changed according to individual taste, or particular circumstances.
A plan is necessary to every sermon. A rude mass of brick, lumber, mortar and iron, thrown together as the materials chance to be furnished, does not constitute a house, and is worthless until each is built into its appropriate place, in obedience to some intelligent design. A sermon must beconstructed in a similar manner. It may contain much that is good, or useful, or striking, and be replete with sparkling imagery, and full of ideas that will command the attention of the audience, and yet completely fail. The only safe method is to have a well-defined plan marked out from beginning to end, and to work according to it.
It is always better to have this plan previously constructed. Sometimes when we speak on a subject we have often thought over, its whole outline will flash upon us in a moment, and we will speak as well as if we had employed months in preparation. But such cases are rare exceptions. The man who attempts, on the spur of the moment, to arrange his facts, draw his inferences, and enforce his opinions, will find the task very difficult, even if his memory promptly furnishes all the necessary materials.
Every discourse, of whatever character, should have a subject and an object. A sermon requires a text also, and these three constitute the foundation upon which it is built. We will consider them separately.
A good plan cannot be constructed without an object in view. Why is it that at a particular time a congregation assembles, and sits silent while a man addresses them? What is his motive in standing up before them and asking their attention? Many of the people may have been drawn together by the lightest influences, but the minister, at least, should be actuated by a noble purpose. If he has a clear aim before him, it will tend powerfully to give unity and consistency to his discourse, and prevent him from falling into endless digressions. It will bind all detached parts together, and infuse a common life through the whole mass. We cannot be too careful in the selection of such a ruling object, for it will affect the whole superstructure.
Our purposes should not be too general. It is not enough that we should wish to do good. Probably no minister ever preaches without that general desire. But the important question is, “What special good do I hope to accomplish by this sermon?” When he has decided this, he will then beprepared to adapt his means to the end proposed, and the whole discourse will acquire a definiteness and precision that would never otherwise have belonged to it. The more we sub-divide our objects, the more will this precision be increased, although there is a limit beyond which it would be at the expense of other qualities. If we desire the salvation of souls, it is well, and most powerful sermons have been preached with that object in view. But if we narrow our immediate aim, and keep in view only one of the steps by which the soul advances to God, it will give our discourse a keener edge, and we can plead with those who have not yet taken that step with more prospect of immediate success, than if we at once placed the whole journey before them. For example, many sermons may be preached with “repentance” as the central object, and this duty enforced by various motives and innumerable arguments. We may show that it is a duty, that man is lost without it, that Jesus calls him to it, that God assists, that salvation follows it, etc.
Our objects usually have reference to the action of those who hear us, and the more fully that action is understood, and the more earnest our desire to produce it, the greater our persuasive power will be. If we do not exactly know what we wish to accomplish, there is very little probability that our audience will interpret our thoughts for us. We may, it is true, labor to convince the judgment of our hearers, and make them understand truth more clearly than before, but this is usually because of the influence thus exerted on their actions.
The objects that should govern our sermons are comparatively few, and ought to be selected with great care. Much of our success depends on having the right one of these before us at the right time; for if we aim at that which is unattainable, we lose our effort. If we preach sanctification to a congregation of unawakened sinners, no power of treatment can redeem the sermon from the cardinal defect of inappropriateness. If we preach against errors which no one of our hearers entertains, our logic is lost, even if thevery errors we battle against are not suggested. Let us carefully note the state of our audience, and select for our object that which ought to be accomplished.
There is a difference between the subject of a discourse and its object; the latter is the motive that impels us to speak, while the former is what we speak about. It is not uncommon for ministers to have a subject without any very distinct object. Their engagements require them to speak, and a subject is a necessity. That which can be treated most easily is taken, and all the ideas they possess, or can collect about it, are given forth, and the matter left. Until such persons grow in earnest, and really desire to accomplish something, they cannot advance the cause of God.
The object of a sermon is the soul, while the subject is only the body; or, we may say, the one is the end, and the other the means by which it is accomplished. After the object is fixed the subject can be chosen to much better advantage; for instance, if it be our object to lead the penitent to the Cross, we may select any of the themes connected with the crucifixion and dying love of Christ; we may show the sinner his inability to fulfill the requirements of the law, and that he needs an atoning sacrifice to save him from its penalty; we may show that the salvation purchased is full and free. Many other branches of the same great topic will be found suitable for the purpose in view.
This order of selection may sometimes be reversed to good advantage. When a minister is stationed with a certain congregation, there are many objects he wishes to accomplish, and often no strong reason for preferring one in the order of time to another. It will then be well for him to take that subject which may impress him, and bend his mind toward an object he can enforce most powerfully through it.
On other occasions there is a particular end to be attained, which is for the time all-important, and which thus furnishes the proper object. Nothing then remains but for the preacher to choose a subject through which he can work to the best advantage.
This is one great advantage the Methodists have in protracted meetings. An object is always in view, and the congregation expect it to be pressed home with power. No plea of general instruction will then save a sermon from being thought worthless, if it does not produce an immediate result. And even the much calumniated “mourners’ bench” contributes most powerfully to the same result. There is something proposed which the congregation can see, and through it judge of the preacher’s success or failure. An outward act is urged upon the unbelieving portion of the audience, by which they signify that they yield to the power of the Gospel; and the very fact of having that before him as an immediate, though not an ultimate aim, will stimulate the preacher’s zeal, and cause him to put forth every possible exertion.
After all, the order in which subject and object are selected is not very material. It is enough that the preacher has a subject that he understands, and an object that warms his heart and enlists all his powers. Then he can preach, not as if dealing with abstractions, but as one who has a living mission to perform.
Every subject we treat should be complete in itself, and rounded off from everything else. Its boundaries should be run with such precision as not to include anything but what properly belongs to it. It is a common but grievous fault to have the same cast of ideas flowing round every text that may be preached from. There are few things in the universe that have not some relation to everything else, and if our topics are not very strictly bounded, we will fall into the vice of perpetual repetition. Thus, in a book of sermon sketches we have examined, nearly every one begins by proving that man is a fallen creature, and needs the helps or is liable to the ills mentioned afterward. No other thought is introduced until that primal point is settled. This doctrine is of great importance, and does affect all man’s relations, but we can sometimes take it for granted, without endangering the edifice we build upon it, and occasionalsilence will be far more impressive than that continual iteration, which may even induce a doubt of what seems to need so much proof.
Ministers sometime acquire such a stereotyped form of thought and expression that what they say in one sermon will be sure to recur, perhaps in a modified form, in all others. This kind of preaching is intolerable. There is an end to the patience of man. He tires of the same old ideas, and wishes when a text is taken that it may bring with it a new sermon. The remedy against this evil is to give each sermon its own territory, and then guard rigidly against trespass. It is not a sufficient excuse for the minister who preaches continually in one place, that what he says has a natural connection with the subject in hand, but it must have a closer connection with it, than with any other he may use. By observing this rule, we make each theme the solar centre around which may cluster a great number of secondary ideas, all of which naturally belong to it, and are undisturbed by satellites from other systems.
The subjects from which a preacher may choose are innumerable. The Bible is an inexhaustible storehouse. Its histories, precepts, prophecies, promises and threatenings, are almost endless. Then all the duties of human life, and especially those born of the Christian character; the best methods of making our way to the end of our journey; the hopes after which we follow; the dangers that beset our path; the mighty destinies of time and eternity, are a few of the themes that suggest themselves, and afford room enough for the loftiest talent, during all the time that man is allowed to preach on earth. If we would search carefully for the best subjects, and, when found, isolate them from all others, we would never need to weary the people by the repetition of thoughts and ideas.
While, as a rule, we ought to shun controversial points, we should not be afraid to lay hold of the most important subjects that are revealed to man. These will always command attention; heaven and hell, judgment, redemption,faith, the fall, and all those great doctrines upon which the Christian religion rests, need to be frequently impressed on the people. It is also profitable to preach serial sermons on great subjects. The rise of the Jewish nation and economy would afford a fine field for instruction. The life and work of Jesus Christ would be still better. This latter series might consist of discourses on His birth, baptism, temptation, first sermon, His teaching in general, some miracle as a type of all others, transfiguration, last coming to Jerusalem, Gethsemane, betrayal and arrest, trial, crucifixion, resurrection, ascension and second advent. Many other subdivisions might be made. Such linked sermons, covering a wide scope, instruct the people better than isolated ones could, and afford equal opportunities for enforcing all Christian lessons. Yet it would not be well to employ them exclusively, or even generally, as such a practice would tend to wearisome sameness.
The subject must be well defined. It may be of a general nature, but our conception of it should be so clear that we always know just what we are speaking about. This is more necessary in an extempore speech than in a written one, although the want of it will be felt severely even in the latter. A strong, vividly defined subject will give unity and life to a whole discourse, and often leave a permanent impression on the mind. To aid in securing this, it will be well for the preacher, when he has chosen a subject, to reduce it to its simplest form, and then by writing it as a phrase or sentence, stamp it on the mind, and let it ring in every word that is spoken; that is, let each word aid in carrying out the great idea, or in leading to the desired object, and be valued only so far as it does this. Those interminable discourses, that seem to commence anywhere and end nowhere, may be called sermons by courtesy, but they are not such in reality. The word “sermon” signifies “a thrust,” which well expresses the concentrativeness and aggressiveness that should distinguish it, and which nothing but a well-defined theme can give. It ought not toglitter with detached beauties, like the starry heavens, but shine with the single, all-pervading radiance of the sun.
This unity of theme and treatment is not easily preserved. It is hard to see in the mind’s eye what we know would please and delight those who listen, and turn away and leave it, but it is often necessary to exercise this more than Spartan self-denial, if we would not reduce our sermons to mere random harangues. Not that illustration should be discarded, for the whole realm of nature may be pressed into this service, and a good illustration in the right place is often better than an argument. But nothing, whatever its nature, should be drawn in, unless it so perfectly coalesces with the parent idea, that a common vitality flows through them. If this is the case, the unity will be unbroken, though even then it often happens that the idea would produce a better effect in connection with another theme, and should be reserved for it.
Usage has established the practice of employing a passage of Scripture as the basis of a sermon. This is of great advantage to the minister, for it gives the discourse something of divine sanction, and makes it more than a popular address. Opinion is divided as to whether it is best to select the text, and arrange the discourse to correspond with it, or reversing this order, to compose the sermon first, and thus secure the harmony that arises from having no disturbing idea, and at the last moment choose a text of Scripture that will fit it as nearly as possible.
No doubt the comparative advantages of these methods will be to a great degree determined by the occasions on which they are used. When a subject is of great importance, and we wish to be precise in explaining it, we may adopt the latter method, but the former is more generally useful. There are so many valuable ideas and important suggestions in the words of Scripture, that we can ill afford to deprive ourselves of this help. For the Bible, with all its ideas, is common property. No minister need fear the charge of plagiarism, when he borrows, either in word orthought from its inspired pages. He is God’s ambassador, with the Bible for his letter of instruction, and the more freely he avails himself of it, if it be done skillfully, the better for the authority of his mission. We may often select a subject that appears dark and confused, but when we have found a passage of Scripture embracing the same idea, there may be something in it that will solve every doubt, and indicate the very thoughts we wish to enforce. For this reason we believe that under ordinary circumstances, the practice of first constructing the sermon and only at the last moment before delivery, tacking on a text, is not the best.
Another reason in favor of previously selecting the text is worth consideration. The people, who are not supposed to know anything of the subject, expect, when we read a passage of Scripture, as the foundation of our remarks, that it will be something more than a mere point of departure. They anticipate that it will be kept always in view, and furnish the key-note to the whole sermon. This is but reasonable, and if disappointed, they will not so well appreciate what is really good in the discourse. We would not sacrifice unity to a mere rambling commentary on the words of the text. Let the subject be first in the mind and bend everything to itself. But let the text be next in importance, and the whole subject be unfolded with it always in view. It may be feared that the work of sermonizing will be rendered more difficult by observing this double guidance, but if a proper text be chosen—one that, in its literal meaning, will embrace the subject—the labor will be much lightened.
It is a common fault to take a passage of Scripture consisting of a few words only, and put our own meaning upon it, without reference to the intention of the inspired writer who penned it. This borders very closely on irreverence. If we cannot use God’s words in the sense he uses them, we had better speak without a text at all, and then our sin will only be a negative one. The taking of a few words divorced from their connection, and appending them to a discourse oressay, that has no relation to their true meaning, is not less a profanation than it would be to prefix the motto, “Perfect love casteth out fear,” to a fashionable novel. But when, on the other hand, we take a text that contains our subject, and expresses it clearly, we are prepared to compose a sermon to the best advantage. The subject present in our own mind runs through every part of the discourse, making it a living unity, instead of a collection of loose and disordered fragments; while the text, being always kept in view by the hearers as well as by the speaker, leads all minds in the same direction, and gives divine sanction to every word that is spoken. It is not without reason that the people, whose tastes are nearly always right, though they may not be able to give a philosophical explanation of them, complain of their preacher when he does not “stick to his text.” It is right that he should so adhere.
A man of genius may neglect this precaution, and still succeed, as he would do, by mere intellectual force, were he to adopt any other course. But ordinary men cannot, with safety, follow the example of Sydney Smith. His vestry complained that he did not talk about the text he took, and, that he might the more easily reform, they advised him to divide his sermons as other preachers did. He promised to comply with their request, and the next Sabbath began, “We will divide our discourse this morning into three parts; in the first place we will goupto our text, in the second we will gothroughit, and in the third we will goFROMit.” It was generally allowed that he succeeded best on the last division, but preachers who have not his genius had better omit it.
These rules in relation to the absolute sway of object, subject and text, may appear harsh and rigid, but cannot be neglected with impunity. A true discourse of any kind is the orderly development of some one thought, with so much clearness, that it may ever afterward live as a point of light in the memory; other ideas may cluster around it, but one must reign supreme. If it fails in this particular, nothingelse will redeem it. Brilliancy of thought and illustration will be wasted, as a sculptor’s art would be on a block of clay.
A man of profound genius once arose to preach before a great assemblage, and every breath was hushed to listen. He spoke with power, and some of his passages were full of thrilling eloquence. He poured forth beautiful images and deep solemn thoughts, with the utmost profusion. Yet when he took his seat a sense of utter disappointment filled the hearts of all present. The sermon was confused. No subject could be traced that bound it together, and made a point of union to which the memory might cling. Had he not read his text no one could have guessed it. It was a most impressive warning of the necessity of laying a foundation before erecting a magnificent structure. Had he adhered to the thoughts expressed in his text, which was one of the richest in the Scriptures, his eloquence and power would not have been thrown away.
CHAPTER II.THE PLAN—THOUGHT-GATHERING—ARRANGING—COMMITTING.
The logical order of sermon preparation is, first, to gather the materials of which it is composed; second, to select what is most fitting, and arrange the whole into perfect order; third, to fix this in the mind, thus making it available at the moment of use. These processes are not necessarily separated in practice, but may be best considered in the order indicated.
When we choose a subject for a sermon, and allow the mind to dwell upon it, it becomes a centre of attraction, and naturally draws all kindred ideas toward it. Old memories that have become dim in the lapse of time, are slowly hunted out and grouped around the parent thought, and each hour of study adds to the richness and variety of our stores. The relations between different and apparently widely-separated things become visible, just as new stars are seen when we gaze intently toward them. Everything that the mind possesses is subjected to a rigid scrutiny, and all that appears to bear any relation to the subject is brought into view. A considerable period of time is usually required for the completion of all this, and the longer it is continued the better, provided the interest felt is not abated.
Such continuous reaches of thought form a principal element in the superiority of one mind over another. Even the mightiest genius cannot, at a single impulse, exhaust the ocean of truth that opens around every object of man’s contemplation.And it is only by viewing a subject in every aspect, that we can guard against superficial and one-sided impressions. But the continued exertion and toil which this implies are nearly always distasteful, and the majority of men can accomplish it only by a stern resolve. This ability, whether acquired or natural, is one of prime necessity, and the young minister, at the very first, should learn to thoroughly investigate and finish every subject he undertakes, and continue the habit during life. This will generally determine the question of his success or failure, at least from an intellectual point of view. Thought is a mighty architect, and if you keep him fully employed, he will build up, with slow and measured strokes, a gorgeous and enduring edifice on any subject within your mental range. You may weary of his labor, and think the wall rises very slowly, and will never be completed, but wait. The work will be finished at last, and will be no ephemeral structure to be swept away by the first storm, but will stand unshaken on the basis of eternal truth.
M. Bautain compares the accumulation of thought around a subject, to the almost imperceptible development of organic life. Striking as is the illustration, there is one marked point of dissimilarity. The growth of thought is voluntary, and may be arrested at any stage. Even a cessation of conscious effort is fatal. To prevent this, and keep the mind employed until all its work is done, requires, with most persons, a regular and formal system. Profound thinkers, who take up a subject, and cannot leave it until it is traced into all its relations, and mastered in every part, and who have at the same time the power of long remembering the trains of thought that pass through their minds, may not need an artificial method. But these are exceptions to the general rule.
We will give a method we have found useful for securing sermon materials, and allow others to adopt it so far as it may prove advantageous to them.
Ideas are not always kept equally in view. Sometimeswe may see one with great clearness, and after a little time lose it again, while another, at first invisible, comes into sight. Each one should be secured when it occurs. After the subject has been pondered for a sufficient length of time, write all the thoughts that are suggested on it, taking no care for the arrangement, but only putting down a word or brief sentence that will recall the idea intended. After everything that presents itself has thus been rendered permanent, the paper containing these items may be put away, and the subject recommitted to the mind. As other ideas arise, let them be recorded in the same way, and the process extended over days together. Sometimes new images and conceptions will continue to float into the mental horizon even for weeks. Most persons who have not tried this simple process, will be surprised to find how many thoughts they have on the commonest topic. If some of this gathered matter remains vague and indefinite, it will only be necessary to give it more time, more earnest thought, and all obscurity will vanish.
At last, there comes a consciousness that the mind’s power on that theme is exhausted. If we also feel that we possess all the requisite material, this part of our work is ended. But more frequently there will be a sense of incompleteness, and we are driven to seek what we need elsewhere.
The next step is the obtaining of new facts. We have thus far dealt with what the mind itself possesses, and have only sought to make that previously-accumulated knowledge fully available. But when this stage is reached, we hunger for more extended information. We read the works of those who have treated on the themes we are discussing, converse with well-informed persons, observe the world closely, and at last find the very idea we want. We receive it with joy, and from thenceforth it becomes a part of our being. We place the treasure on paper with other items, and continue to search until we have all we desire. It often happens that we do not find exactly the object of our search, but strike on some chain that guides us to it through thesubtile principles of association. It is only the more welcome because we have thus traced it out.
We have on paper, at last, and often after much toil, a number of confused, unarranged notes. The whole mass relates to the subject, but much is unfitting, and all requires, by another process, to be cast into order and harmony. The first step in this direction is to omit everything not necessary to the purpose of the sermon. This is a matter of great importance. It has been said that the principal difference between a wise man and a fool is, that the one utters all his thoughts, while the other gives only his best to the world. Nearly every man has, at times, thoughts that would profit mankind, and if these are carefully selected from the puerilities by which they may be surrounded, the result cannot but be valuable. And if this cautious selection be needed on general topics, it is still more imperative in the ministry of the Word. The preacher must beware of giving anything repugnant to the spirit of his mission. And the necessity of a purpose running through his whole discourse, which we have before enlarged on, compels him to strike out each item at variance with it. It is well to carefully read over our scattered notes after the fervor of composition has subsided, and erase all that are unfitting. Sometimes this will leave very few ideas remaining, and we are obliged to search for others to complete the sermon. This can be continued until we have gathered a sufficient mass of clearly connected thoughts to accomplish the object in view.
Next follows the task of constructing the plan for the intended sermon. Unless this is well done, success is impossible. The mightiest results are obtained in oratory by the slow process of words, one following another. Each one should bear forward the current of thought in the right direction, and be a help to all that follow. And as, in extempore speech, these words are given forth on the spur of the moment, it becomes necessary to so arrange that the proper thought to be dissolved into words, may always be presented to the mind at the right time.
In some cases this disposition of parts is quite easy. A course indicated by the very nature of the subject will spring into view, and relieve us of further embarrassment. But often this portion of our task will require severe thought.
Many different kinds of plans have been specified by writers on Homiletics. We will be contented with four divisions, based on the mode of construction.
The first, we may call the narrative method. It is principally used when some scripture history forms the basis of the sermon. In it the different parts of the plan are arranged according to the order of time, except when some particular reason, borrowed from the other methods, intervenes. When there are few or none of these portions which give it a composite character, the development proceeds with all the simplicity of a story. Many beautiful sermons have been thus constructed.
A second method is the textual. Each part of the sermon rests on some of the words or clauses of the text, and these suggest the order of its unfolding, although they may be changed to make it correspond more nearly to the narrative, or the logical methods. This kind of plan has an obvious advantage in assisting the memory by suggesting each part at the proper time.
The logical method is the third we will describe. A topic is taken, and without reference to the order of time or the words of the text, is unfolded as a proposition in Geometry—each thought being preliminary to that which follows, and the whole ending in the demonstration of some great truth, and the deduction of its legitimate corollaries. This method is exceedingly valuable in many cases, if not pressed too far.
The last method, and the one employed more frequently than all the others, is the divisional. It is the military arrangement, for in it the whole sermon is organized like an army. All the detached items are brought into related groups, each governed by a principal thought, and these again are held in strict subordination to the supreme idea; or, to change the figure, the entire mass resembles a tree,with its single trunk, its branches subdivided into smaller ones, and all covered with a beautiful robe of leaves, that rounds its form into graceful outlines, even as the flow of words harmonizes our prepared thoughts, into the unity of a living discourse.
A subject will many times arrange itself almost spontaneously into several different parts, which thus form the proper divisions, and these again may be easily analyzed into their subdivisions. Even when this is not the case, we will see, as we examine our jottings, that a few of the ideas stand out in especial prominence, and with a little close study of relations and affinities, all the others may be made to group themselves around these. The individual ideas which we put down on the first study of the subject, usually form the subdivisions, and some generalization of them the divisions.
It is well not to make the branches of a subject too numerous, or they will introduce confusion, and fail to be remembered. From two to four divisions, with two or three subdivisions under each, are in a majority of cases better than a larger number. The tendency to multiply them almost infinitely, which was formerly very prevalent, and is still too common, receives a merciless, but well-deserved rebuke from Stephens, in his “Preaching Required by the Times.” He is criticising a popular “Preacher’s Manual”:
“These more than six hundred pages are devoted exclusively to the technicalities of sermonizing. We almost perspire as we trace down the tables of contents. Our eye is arrested by the ‘divisions’ of a subject—and here we have no less than ‘nine kinds of divisions:’ the ‘Exegetical Division,’ the ‘Accommodational Division,’ the ‘Regular Division,’ the ‘Interrogative Division,’ the ‘Observational Division,’ the ‘Propositional Division,’ etc.; and then come the ‘Rise from Species to Genus,’ the ‘Descent from Genus to Species.’ And then again we have exordiums: ‘Narrative Exordiums,’ ‘Expository Exordiums,’ ‘ArgumentativeExordiums,’ ‘Observational Exordiums,’ ‘Applicatory Exordiums,’ ‘Topical Exordiums,’ and, alas for us! even ‘Extra-Topical Exordiums.’ One’s thoughts turn away from a scene like this spontaneously to the Litany, and query if there should not be a new prayer there.
“But this is not all. Here are about thirty stubborn pages to tell you how to make acommenton your text, and we have the ‘Eulogistic Comment’ and the ‘Dislogistic Comment,’ (turn to your dictionary, reader; we cannot stop in the race to define), ‘Argumentative Comment’ and the ‘Contemplative Comment,’ the ‘Hyperbolical Comment,’ the ‘Interrogative Comment,’ and the list tapers off at last with what it ought to have begun and ended with, the ‘Expository Comment.’
“And even this is not all. Here is a section on the ‘Different kinds of Address,’ and behold the astute analysis: ‘The Appellatory, the Entreating, the Expostulatory, the Remedial, the Directive, the Encouraging, the Consoling, the Elevating, the Alarming, the Tender, the Indignant, the Abrupt.’
“This is the way that the art ‘Homiletic’ would teach us when and how to be ‘Tender,’ ‘Indignant,’ ‘Consoling,’ and even ‘Abrupt!’ ‘Nonsense!’
“Yes, ‘nonsense!’ says any man of good sense in looking at this folly: a folly which would be less lamentable if it could only be kept to the homiletic professor’s chair, but which has still an almost characteristic effect on pulpit eloquence—not only on theformof the sermon, but as a natural consequence on its veryanimus. This tireless author gives all these outlines aspracticalprescriptions. He even presents them in a precise formula. We must yield to the temptation to quote it. ‘There are,’ he says, ‘certain technical signs employed to distinguish the several parts of a discourse. The first class consists of theprincipal divisions, marked in Roman letters, thus: I., II., III., IV., etc. Next, thesubdivisions of the first class, in figures, 1, 2, 3, etc. Under these,subdivisions of the second class, marked with a curve onthe right, as 1), 2), 3), etc. Then,subdivisions of the third class, marked with two curves, as (1), (2), (3), etc.; and under these,subdivisions of the fourth class, in crotchets, thus: [1], [2], [3]. As—
“I. Principal division.1. Subdivision of first class.1). Subdivision of second class.(1). Subdivision of third class.[1]. Subdivision of fourth class.
“I. Principal division.1. Subdivision of first class.1). Subdivision of second class.(1). Subdivision of third class.[1]. Subdivision of fourth class.
“I. Principal division.1. Subdivision of first class.1). Subdivision of second class.(1). Subdivision of third class.[1]. Subdivision of fourth class.
“I. Principal division.
1. Subdivision of first class.
1). Subdivision of second class.
(1). Subdivision of third class.
[1]. Subdivision of fourth class.
“Mathematical this, certainly; some of Euclid’s problems are plainer. As a ‘demonstration’ is obviously necessary, the author proceeds to give the outline of a sermon on ‘The Diversity of Ministerial Gifts,’ from the text ‘Now there are Diversities of Gifts,’ etc. He has but two ‘General Divisions,’ but makes up for their paucity by a generous allowance of ‘Subdivisions.’ His ‘General Divisions’ are, I.Exemplify the Truth of the Text. II.Derive some Lessons of Instruction, etc.,—an arrangement simple and suitable enough for any popular audience, if he were content with it, but under the first head he has two ‘subdivisions,’ the first of which is reduced tothirteensub-subdivisions, and one of these thirteen again tosevensub-sub-subdivisions! The second of his subdivisions again divided intoeightsub-subdivisions, while the ‘homily’ (alas for the name!) is completed by a merciless slashing of the second ‘general division’ into no less thaneightsubdivisions. The honest author, when he takes breath at the end, seems to have some compunctious misgivings about this infinitesimal mincing of a noble theme, and reminds the amazed student that though the plan should be followed ‘in the composition of a sermon,’ the ‘minor divisions’ can be concealed from view in preaching; and he concludes the medley of nonsense with one sensible and very timely admonition: ‘If a discourse contain a considerable number of divisions and subdivisions,’ care should be taken to fill up the respective parts with suitable matter, or it will be, indeed, a mereskeleton—bones strung together—‘very many and very dry!’”
When we have accumulated our materials, stricken out all not needed, and determined what shall be the character of our plan, the remainder of the work must be left to individual taste and judgment. No rules can be given that will meet every case. We might direct to put first what is most easily comprehended, what is necessary for understanding other portions, and also what is least likely to be disputed. But beyond these obvious directions little aid can be given. The preacher must form his own ideal, and work up to it. He may profitably examine sermon skeletons, to learn what such forms should be. And when he hears good discourses he may look beneath the burning words, and see what are the merits of the frame-work on which they rest. This may render him dissatisfied with his own achievements, but such dissatisfaction is the best pledge of earnest effort for higher results.
A certain means of improvement is to bestow a great deal of time and thought on the formation of plans, and make no disposition of any part without a satisfactory reason. If this course is faithfully continued, the power to arrange properly will be acquired, and firm, coherent, and logical sermons be constructed.
There are certain characteristics that each sermon skeleton should possess. It must indicate the nature of the discourse, and mark out each of its steps with accuracy. Any want of definiteness is a fatal defect. The orator must feel that he can rely absolutely on it for guidance to the end of his discourse, or be in perpetual danger of embarrassment and confusion. Each clause should express a distinct idea, and but one. If it contain anything that is included under another head, we fall into wearisome repetition, the great danger of extempore preachers. But if discordant and disconnected thoughts are grouped together, we are liable to forget some of them, and in returning, destroy the order of the sermon.
A brief plan is better than a long one. Often a single word will recall an idea as perfectly as many sentences would do, and will burden the memory less. We do not expect the draftof a house to equal the building in size, but only to indicate the position and proportion of its apartments. The plan cannot supply the thought, but, indicating what exists in the mind, it shows how to bring it forth in regular order. It is a pathway leading to a definite end, and like all roads, its crowning merits are directness and smoothness. Without these, it will perplex and hinder rather than aid. Every word in the plan should express, or assist in expressing an idea, and be so firmly bound to it that the two cannot be separated by any exigency of speech. It is perplexing in the heat of discourse to have a prepared note lose the idea attached to it, and become merely an empty word. But if the conception is clear, and the most fitting term has been chosen to embody it, this cannot easily happen. A familiar idea may be noted very briefly, while one that is new requires to be more fully expressed. Most sermon skeletons may be brought within the compass of a hundred words, and every part be clear to the mind that conceived it, though, perhaps not comprehensible by any other.
It is not always best to present the divisions and subdivisions in preaching. The congregation do not care how a sermon has been constructed, provided it comes to them warm and pulsating with life. To give the plan of a sermon before the sermon itself, is contrary to the analogy of nature. She does not require us to look upon a grisly skeleton before we can see a living body. It is no less objectionable to name the parts and numbers of the sketch during the discourse, for bones that project through the skin are very uncomely. The people will not suffer, if we keep all the divisions to ourselves, for they are only professional devices to render our share of the work easier. Much of the proverbial “dryness” of sermons arises from displaying all the processes we employ. A hotel that would have its beef killed and dressed before its guests at dinner, would not be likely to retain its patronage. Whenever we hear a minister state his plan in full, and take up “firstly” andannounce the subdivisions under it, we prepare our patience for a severe test.
What the people need, are deep, strong appeals to their hearts, through which shines the lightning of great truths, and the sword of God’s spirit smites—not dry, dull divisions through which “it is easy to follow the preacher”—a compliment often given, but always equivocal. A tree is far more beautiful when covered with waving foliage, even if some of the branches are hidden. Let the stream of eloquence sweep on in an unbroken flow, bearing with it all hearts, but giving no indication of the manner in which it is guided; or, better still, let it move with the impetus of the cannon ball, overthrowing everything in its path, but not proclaiming in advance the mark toward which it is flying!
We should go as far in the plan as we intend to do in the sermon, and know just where to stop. Then we arise with confidence, for we are sure that we have something to say; we know what it is; and most important of all, we will know when it is finished. Most objections against extempore preaching apply only to discourses that have no governing plan. When this is firm and clear, there is no more danger of saying what we do not intend, or of running into endless digressions, than if we wrote every word. Indeed there is no better way to compose a written sermon, than by first arranging a plan.
But it may be urged that this laborious preparation—this careful placing of every thought—will require as much time as to write in full. It may at first. The mind needs to be trained in the work, and it will be of great advantage even as a mental discipline. But it grows easier with practice, until the preparation of two sermons a week will not be felt as a burden—will only afford grateful topics of thought while busied at other labor. The direct toil of a mature preacher may not exceed an hour per week.
The sermon is now clearly indicated. A plan has been prepared that fixes each thought to be expressed in its proper place. There is no further danger of the loosenessand desultoriness that are not unfrequently supposed to be peculiar to extemporaneous speech. It is possible, in the moment of utterance, to leave the beaten track, and give expression to any new ideas that may be suggested. But there is a sure foundation laid—a course marked out that has been deeply premeditated, and which gives certainty to all we say.
But it is not enough to have the plan on paper. As it came from the mind at first in detached items, it must, in its completed state, be restored to it again. Some ministers are not willing to take the trouble of committing their skeletons to memory, but lay the paper before them, and speak on one point until that is exhausted, and then look up the next, which is treated in the same manner. This tends powerfully to impair the unity of the discourse, which should he unbroken, and to make each note the theme of a short, independent dissertation, rather than an integral part of the whole. The minister reaches a point where he does not know what is to come next, and on the brink of that gulf looks down at his notes, and after a search, perhaps finds what he wants. Had this latter thought existed in his mind, it would have been taken notice of in time, and the close of the preceding one bent into harmony with it. The direct address of the preacher to the people, which they value so much, is interfered with in the same way, for his eye must rest, part of the time, on his notes. The divisions also of the sermon are apt to be mentioned, for it is hard for the tongue to refrain from pronouncing the words that the eye is glancing over.
For all these reasons we believe that notes should seldom, if ever, be used in the pulpit. They remedy none of the acknowledged defects of extempore speaking, but add to them the coldness and formality of reading. Those who cannot trust the mind alone had better go further, and read their sermons with what earnestness they can command, and thus secure the elegant finish supposed to be attainable only in written compositions.
But not all who use notes thus abuse them. Many employ them merely to prevent possible forgetfulness, and perhaps do not look at them once during the sermon. Yet it is still better to carry them in the pocket, and thus avoid the appearance of servile dependence, while they would still guard against such a misfortune as befel the Abbe Bautain, who, on ascending the pulpit to preach before the French king and court, found that he had forgotten the subject, plan and text!
By committing the plan to memory the mind takes possession of the whole subject. It is brought into one view, and if any part is inconsistent with the main discussion, the defect will be seen at once. If the plan is properly constructed, the mind is then in the best possible condition for speech. The object is fixed in the heart, and will fire it to earnestness and zeal, and the subject is spread out before the mind’s eye, while the two meet and mingle in such a way as to give life and vitality to every part. This is just what is needed in true preaching. The speaker’s soul, heated by the contemplation of his object, penetrates every part of his theme, investing it with an interest that compels attention. All the power he possesses is brought to bear directly on the people. We can scarcely imagine a great reformer—one who has shaken the nations—to have adopted any other method of address. Think of Xavier or Luther with their notes spread out before them, while addressing the multitudes who hung on their lips! The Presbyterian elder who once prayed in the presence of his note-using pastor: “O Lord! teach thy servants to speak from the heart to the heart, and not from a little piece of paper, as the manner of some is!” was not far wrong.
It is well to commit the plan to memory a considerable time before entering the pulpit. There is then less liability of forgetting some portion of it, and it takes more complete possession of the mind. This is less important when we preach on subjects with which we are perfectly familiar, for then “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.”But we are not always so favored. Even if the salient features are well known, some of the minor parts may require close consideration. This cannot be so well bestowed until after the plan is completely prepared, for before that time there is danger that much of our attention may be given to some idea which may be ultimately rejected, or changed with the plan. But when the plan is finished, each idea has settled into its place. If obscurity still rests anywhere, it will be seen at once, and the strength of the mind brought to bear on that particular point. The impressions then made are easily retained, because associated with a part of the prepared outline. Such deep meditation on each division of the sermon can scarcely fail to make it original in the truest sense of the term, and weave it together with strong and massive thought.
After the plan is committed to memory, we can meditate on its different portions, not only at the desk, but everywhere. As we walk from place to place, or lie on our beds, or at any time find our minds free from other engagements, we can ponder the ideas that cluster around our subject until they grow perfectly familiar. Even when we are reading, brilliant thoughts may spring up, or those we possessed before take stronger and more definite shape.
This course we would strongly urge on the young speaker. If diligently followed, it will be invaluable. Arrange the plan from which to speak as clearly as may be, and memorize it; turn it over and over again; ponder each idea and the manner of bringing it out; study the connection between all the parts, until the whole, from beginning to end, appears perfectly plain and simple. This method of preparation has been so fully tested by experience, that its effectiveness is no longer questionable.
It is important to grasp the whole subject, as nearly as possible, in a single idea—in the same way that the future tree is compressed in the germ from which it springs. Then this one thought will suggest the entire discourse to the speaker, and at its conclusion will be left clear and positiveon the hearer’s mind. It is true that some acute auditors may outrun a loose speaker, arrange his scattered fragments, supply his omissions, and arrive at the idea which has not yet formed itself in his own mind. Such persons often commend preachers who are incomprehensible to the majority of their audience. But it is not safe to trust their applause for they are exceedingly apt to be in the minority.
After the plan is memorized, it is often of advantage to sketch the discourse in full; if this is done in long hand, there is danger that its slowness will make it more of a word-study than what it is intended to be—a test of ideas. Here short hand is valuable; and its use in this manner will at once detect anything that may be wrong in the plan, for if all is well arranged there need be no pause in the most rapid composition. If we are able at one effort to throw the whole into a dress of words, we can be confident that with the additional stimulus supplied by the presence of a congregation, it will be easy to do the same again. There should be no attempt, at the time of speaking, to recall the terms used in writing, but our command of language is usually improved by having so lately used many of the terms we will need again. Frequently there are fine passages in the sermons thus struck off at white heat which we would not willingly forget, yet it is better to make no effort to remember them, for we are almost certain to rise even higher in the excitement of speech.
Those who cannot write at a speed approaching that of the tongue, and who wish a little more assistance than is furnished by the plan, can make a brief sketch of it—a compact and intelligible model of the whole subject. A discourse that requires an hour in delivery may be compressed into a wonderfully small compass, without a material thought being omitted or obscurely indicated. Such a sketch differs from the plan in clearly expressing all the ideas that underlie the discourse, while the latter would be unintelligible to any but the writer. The one is only a few marks thrown out into the field of thought, by which an intended pathwayis indicated; the other is an exceedingly brief view of the thoughts themselves, without adornment or verbiage. Some speakers who might feel insecure in trusting the notes and hints of the plan, would feel free to enlarge on a statement of their thoughts, so brief as to require only two or three minutes for reading. But this is only an expedient, and need not be adopted by those who have confidence in their trained and cultivated powers.
The method of committing to memory a skeleton for the purpose of securing our accumulations, is widely different from the systems of Mnemonics that were once so current. Ideas are linked together by natural, not artificial associations. It is the grasping of one thought that points to another, or dissolves, as we gaze upon it, into minuter ones, and is, in most instances, based upon that rigid analysis which cannot be dispensed with even by those who would think exactly. All who write their sermons would do well to adopt it. Strict analysis and broad generalization are the foundation of all science, and if the preacher builds upon them the world of spiritual truth will yield him its treasures.
After a plan has been fully prepared it may easily be preserved for future use, by being copied into a book kept for the purpose, or, what is more convenient in practice, folded into an envelope, with the subject written on the back. By the latter means a large number may be preserved in such form as to be readily consulted. These can be improved as our knowledge increases, so as to be, at any time, the complete expression of our ability on the theme treated of.