I am not a very religious guy, though I do sing in the chancel choir most Sundays. I enjoy the community and the shared experience of producing something resembling music each week, even though I know almost nothing about music's foundations and most elementary building blocks of musical theory.
Sitting in the choir loft gives me a great view of the ever-dwindling and ever-graying congregation (I am well past gray and into lack of color completely, other than white). The congregation has a clear view of me, as well, which makes dozing off during sermons potentially embarrassing.
So, I try to pay attention, though my coping mechanism is often to imagine the sermon translated into a classroom lesson. Sometimes I run lyrics in my head, silently rehearsing for a future show. I have also become quite proficient at looking straight ahead, eyes open with a serious expression, as if I am contemplating some looming charitable act or perhaps my own mortality.
I am a decent judge of a well-crafted sermon, which really is an argument being made by a preacher with (we hope) a clear call to action. That call to action (CTA) boils down to "do good and avoid evil," I suppose, but defining good and evil can be tricky.
There are certain shared strategies that preachers use. The first is to start with Scripture and then spend some time breaking it down and interpreting the advice/wisdom/challenge. Ministers study the Bible quite rigorously, of course, so this is quite comfortable for them, and many in the congregation may know the text of the Bible nearly as well as the minister. That makes for a solid go-to. Focusing tightly on a Bible passage rarely gets criticized, even if that passage is as clear as mud.
A second strategy is to find, observe, or simply "steal" a good story that can act as a sort of parable, providing the preacher with an anecdote or folksy wisdom piece or amusing memory that brings the audience along and sets an engaging tone.
A third strategy is to share a personal "confession," or more often just a personal memoir that applies to the day's theme. These may be absolutely true or (more often, would be my guess) may be borrowed from other sources. Certainly, they tend to be sculpted carefully to leave out distractions and confusion. They are definitely related to parables, which are simply short narratives designed to teach a lesson. No one claims those parables, even from Jesus, were true stories.
And a fourth strategy, and my least favorite, is simply to repeat some basic claim, over and over, using different phrasing, perhaps, but never really sharing any clear evidence with the audience. That has been my problem with a number of recent sermons. The message boils down to love God and one another, and that is fine as far as it goes. It certainly has the virtue of being concise, though how to interpret "love" is a bit vague.
Many sermons combine all of the above, possibly including very little of that fourth strategy.
Preachers make use of combinations of personal anecdotes, observations, quotations from famous scholars or even popular culture, parables, invented situations, and researched history to try to engage us. Those seem like good tools.
What I am missing lately in sermons is provocation. When the message boils down to "just keep loving and trusting God and all things will turn out fine..." well, that is NOT provocative and also incredibly passive.
"Provoke" comes from two Latin roots: "voce" (to speak or breathe) and "pro" (to create or to bring forth). To provoke is to intentionally push for some sort of reaction, and teachers do this all the time -- sometimes just to check to see if anyone is still awake in class.
When church services fall into patterns and the same basic wisdom is dispensed, it is easy to feel comfortable. But what I appreciate most in arguments is to be pushed out of my comfort zone, to feel a bit off-kilter, to see things in a new light.
Preachers, presidents, governors, teachers... we all need to continually work on our rhetoric and find ways to surprise our audiences.
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