1. The Text and Its Interpretation
John A. Broadus, A Treatise on the Preparation and Delivery of Sermons, first edition (Philadelphia, 1870), part I, chapter I, “The Text — Selection,” § 2, and chapter II, “The Text — Interpretation,” §§ 1, 2 and 4. Text of the 1870 first edition (Broadus’s own text). Abridged; omissions are marked […]. Primary source; the interpretations are the author’s.
CTS note: Broadus (1827–1895) taught preaching at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, and he wrote in the nineteenth-century American South. CTS uses his work as a historical source in homiletics, not as approval of the racial or social assumptions of his time. “Accommodation” means using the words of Scripture in a sense the writer did not intend. “Spiritualizing” means finding hidden spiritual meanings in plain passages. When Broadus says “our version,” he means the English King James Version; readers can apply his advice to their own Bibles. This chapter follows Broadus’s 1870 first edition. Passages found only in the 1898 revision by E. C. Dargan, such as those citing Phillips Brooks (1877), Austin Phelps (1881) and the Revised Version (1881), are not included.
Part I, Chapter I. The Text — Selection
§ 2. Advantages of Having a Text
It is manifest that to take a text gives a certain air of sacredness to the discourse. But more than this is true. The primary idea is that the discourse is a development of the text, an explanation, illustration, application of its teachings. Our business is to teach God’s word. And although we may often discuss subjects, and aspects of subjects, which are not presented in precisely that form by any passage of Scripture, yet the fundamental conception should be habitually retained, that we are about to set forth what the text contains. When circumstances determine the subject to be treated, and we have to look for a text, one can almost always be found which will have some real, though it be a general relation to the subject. If there be rare cases in which it is otherwise, it will then be better to have no text than one with which the subject has only a fanciful or forced connection.
There are several advantages in regularly taking a text. (1.) It constantly recalls the fact just mentioned, that our undertaking is not to guide the people by our own wisdom, but to impart to them the teachings of God in his Word. This fact enables us to speak with confidence, and leads the people to recognize the authority of what we say. (2.) If the text is well chosen, it awakens interest at the outset. (3.) It often aids the hearer in remembering the train of thought, having this effect wherever the sermon is really evolved from the text. (4.) It affords opportunity of explaining and impressing some passage of Scripture. (5.) It tends to prevent our wandering utterly away from Scriptural topics and views. (6.) Greater variety will be gained than if the mind were left altogether to the suggestion of circumstances, for then it will often fall back into its old ruts; and this variety is attained just in proportion as one restricts himself to the specific thought of each particular text.
Objections to the use of texts have commonly arisen from one of two or three causes. The grievous laxity in the interpretation of texts which has so widely prevailed, leads some men to regard the employment of them as wrong or useless. This is the old story — the abuse of a thing causing men to question the propriety of its use. Again, persons who have little or no true reverence for Scripture, or appreciation of its riches, speak of the text as a restriction upon freedom of thought and flow of eloquence. Thus Voltaire: “It were to be wished that Bourdaloue in banishing from the pulpit the bad taste which disgraced it, had also banished the custom of preaching on a text. Indeed, to speak long on a quotation of a line or two, to exhaust one’s self in subjecting a whole discourse to the control of this line, seems a trifling labor, little worthy of the dignity of the ministry. The text becomes a sort of motto, or rather enigma, which the discourse develops.” It seems plain that this sneer arose partly from the torturing interpretation so often witnessed, and chiefly from the critic’s want of reverence for the Bible, and ignorance of the preacher’s true relation to the Bible. And perhaps, as a third ground of objection to texts, some able and devout preachers, disliking expository and even textual preaching, and wishing that every sermon should be a philosophical discussion or an elaborate discourse upon a definite topic, incline to regard the custom of always taking a text as an inconvenient restriction. Such appears to have been the feeling of Vinet.
It is sometimes not unsuitable to have two texts, or even more. Thus with Heb. 9:22, “And without shedding of blood is no remission,” there might be united 1 John 1:7, “The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.” Or with Isa. 6:3, “The whole earth is full of his glory,” may be taken Psa. 72:19, “And let the whole earth be filled with his glory;” to angelic eyes it is so — the human mind can only pray that it may be so. (Comp. Hab. 2:14.) Spurgeon has a sermon on the words, “I have sinned,” as occurring seven times in the Bible, and gives interesting views of the different circumstances and states of mind in which they were uttered.
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Part I, Chapter II. The Text — Interpretation
§ 1. Obligation to Interpret Carefully and Strictly
To interpret and apply his text in accordance with its real meaning, is one of the preacher’s most sacred duties. He stands before the people for the very purpose of teaching and exhorting them out of the Word of God. He announces a particular passage of God’s Word as his text with the distinctly implied understanding that from this his sermon will be drawn — if not always its various thoughts, yet certainly its general subject. If he is not willing to be bound by this understanding, he ought to reject the practice which commits him to it, and preach without any text. But using a text, and undertaking to develop and apply its teachings, we are solemnly bound to represent the text as meaning precisely what it does mean.
This would seem to be a truism. But it is often and grievously violated. Not only is there much contented ignorance as to interpretation, and much careless neglect on the part of persons well able to interpret correctly, and much wild spiritualizing of plain words, but, upon the wretched principle of “accommodation,” Scripture sentences or phrases are employed as signifying what it is well known, and perhaps even declared at the time, that the sacred writer did not mean to say, and has not at all said. “The original meaning of these words, as used by the inspired writer, is — so and so; but I propose on the present occasion to employ them in the following sense.” That is to say — honored brother, see what you are doing — you stand up to teach men from a passage of God’s blessed word, and coolly declare that you propose to make the passage mean what it does not mean. “But the words might have that sense.” They might, but as a part of the Bible, as a text of Scripture, they do not. If we take the passage in a sense entirely foreign to what the sacred writer designed, as indicated by his connection, then, as we use it, the phrase is no longer a passage of Scripture at all. It is merely words of Scripture, used without authority to convey a different meaning; just as truly as if we had picked out words from a concordance, and framed them into a sentence. “But I use the passage merely as a motto.” Well, if a preacher has the right to take no text but only a motto — which is questionable — he certainly has not the right to make a Scriptural motto signify what he knows it does not signify. “But the language of Scripture is so rich, its pregnant sayings often mean so much, that I think perhaps this expression may convey, among other things, the sense which I propose.” If it really does, there is no objection whatever to using it so. But a mere vague “perhaps” is a slender and tottering excuse for a preacher, who is looked up to by the people as authority in this matter, who is supposed to have studied his text and to know its meaning, and whose statements will, for that reason, be accepted by many without question. Such a man is verily guilty before God if he does not honestly strive to understand that which he interprets, and give forth its real meaning and no other.
Now supposing in the preacher an earnest desire to interpret his text correctly, he will not always find it an easy task. Apart from the loose notions, bad examples, and previous wrong practice, which often becloud the mind with reference to interpretation, it has some intrinsic and serious difficulties which can be overcome only by thoughtful effort. While, therefore, the whole great subject of Biblical Hermeneutics or Interpretation does not belong to a treatise on Homiletics, it seems proper and necessary to give some account of the errors to be avoided, and the methods to be adopted, by a preacher in interpreting his text.
§ 2. Chief Sources of Error in the Interpretation of a Text
1. Erroneous interpretations often arise from misunderstanding the phraseology of the text itself. Language can never do more than approximate to perfect precision of expression, with freedom from the possibility of being misunderstood; and an easy, colloquial style is especially apt to involve a number of ellipses, broken constructions, words of various and not well-defined meaning, and other causes of ambiguity. If, then, a revelation was to be given in human language, and to be expressed for the most part in that familiar style which would make it “come home to men’s business and bosoms,” would make it a book for men and women, and boys and girls, for cultivated and uncultivated people, it must be an inevitable condition of such a revelation that questions might often arise as to the exact meaning of its details. The general drift of a narrative, argument, or exhortation may be obvious enough, and its practical impression upon a docile and susceptible mind may be very distinct, and yet those who come to criticise the details, especially if they come with prepossessions and prejudices, may find numerous expressions capable of being variously interpreted, and perhaps some whose exact sense is really doubtful. Far better this, it is evident, than the idea of a revelation presented in a uniformly didactic and rigorously scientific style, which must at last fail of absolute precision, while it would be thoroughly devoid of interest for the ordinary human mind. Let us, therefore, cheerfully accept the necessity of exercising great care when we interpret the language of Scripture, as we are compelled to do with all other language.
Moreover, there are in our task some peculiar conditions. Many of us have to interpret a translation. Now the best translations are necessarily imperfect. It is rarely, if ever, the case that two words in different languages will contain precisely the same bulk of meaning in the same form, and carry with them the same atmosphere of association and suggestion. Idiomatic differences of construction, too, will sometimes introduce ambiguity where the original was precise, or make too definite what in the original was only general. Especially frequent are the cases in which our language fails to indicate the emphasis, which in the Hebrew or the Greek may be distinctly marked. And then the translation which we employ, though its general style is so admirable, and though no other popular translation has ever equalled it in correctness, is disfigured by not a few errors, and contains various words and phrases which have become obsolete, or have changed their meaning. Yet with all this, there is nothing to discourage or to excuse the preacher from earnest efforts to ascertain the true meaning of his text. By working himself, through extensive, constant and devout reading of the Bible, into thorough sympathy with its characteristic modes of thought and forms of expression, by throwing himself upon the current of the general connection of his text, so as to be borne over any particular difficulties, by comparing it with various other passages in which the same or a kindred subject is treated, and by consulting the works of learned and really judicious expositors, the intelligent preacher who uses only our English Version will have great success in the interpretation of Scripture. Witness the sermons and the writings of hosts of Baptist ministers, and also of Methodists and others. Witness Andrew Fuller, who had practically no knowledge of the original languages, and yet whose interpretations of Scripture are clear and safe in a degree very rarely surpassed.
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Further, it is to be observed that the language of Scripture is, as a general thing, not philosophical but popular, not scientific but poetic, not so much an analytical language, fond of sharp discriminations and exact statements, as a synthetical language, abounding in concrete terms, the representatives not of abstractions, but of facts of actual existence and experience, and which in their meaning gradually shade into each other, without any definite line of distinction. This character leads to some peculiar forms of expression, which abound in the Bible, and are important for the interpretation of many texts.
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The remark may be here added, that where a text in its connection admits of more than one meaning, we shall do well either to avoid it as too ambiguous for our purpose, or to indicate that we take the more probable sense, and confine attention to its lessons as thus understood. The plan of taking up in succession several different senses and making a practical application of each, cannot be approved. We must bring to bear upon men’s minds as a part of God’s Word, only what the text really means, as best we can ascertain it.
3. A third source of error in the interpretation of texts is improper spiritualizing.
We have no other means of representing spiritual things than by metaphors derived from things temporal; and our very conceptions of the unseen world depend upon images furnished by the world in which we now live. Swedenborg taught, in the “doctrine of correspondences” upon which he asserts the Scriptures to have been written, that every object and relation in the material sphere has something corresponding to it in the spiritual sphere. As a universal fact, we may well ask for some better proof of this than the Swedish Baron’s visions; but it is going to the opposite extreme if we imagine that the relation between things temporal and spiritual is simply an affair of metaphors. The Scriptures appear to teach that there really is much of intimate connection and much of close correspondence between these two great spheres of existence. All the false religions present perversions and distortions of this conception. And the allegorical, in the broad sense of that term, is very widely and variously employed in the Scriptures of truth. The numerous sacrifices and purifications enjoined in the law, represented the work of Christ and of his Spirit. The prophets frequently employed objects or events near at hand to picture realities belonging to the Messianic age. The history of Israel had a typical relation, on the one hand to the life of Christ, on the other to the fortunes of his Church; and Zion, the capital city and representative of Israel, furnished a favorite prophetic image in depicting the future of the spiritual Israel. Individual personages of history, as Melchizedek, Moses, Joshua, David, Cyrus, undoubtedly bore a divinely designed resemblance, in some respects, to the coming Messiah. The relation between husband and wife afforded an oft-recurring image of the relation between God and the chosen nation, between Christ and his Church. Even the enmity of Sarah and Hagar pictured the opposition between bondage under the law and liberty in the gospel.
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And observe: In the case of figurative passages, which really have a spiritual meaning, there is danger of pressing the figure too far, of fancying a spiritual sense in aspects or details of the figure which are not really within the scope of the inspired writer. When our Lord says, “Take my yoke upon you,” we have no right to hunt up all manner of details as to yokes and oxen, and run a fanciful parallel as to each particular; the general meaning is plain enough, and that is all. When he says, “Be ye wise as serpents,” or, “I will make you fishers of men,” and in ten thousand passages of Scripture, the same principle holds. We must inquire what the sacred speaker or writer designed by the figure; so much it means, but beyond that, as a part of Scripture, it means nothing. Especially common are errors of this kind in the interpretation of our Lord’s Parables. The stories which were told by the Great Teacher are illustrations of unrivalled beauty and impressiveness, but still they are illustrations. Like the illustrative comparisons and incidents which we employ, some of them are founded upon a closer, and others upon a more remote, resemblance or analogy; some run parallel for a long distance to the subject compared with them, others barely touch it at a single point. When Christ’s coming is said to be as a thief in the night, the resemblance extends only to unexpectedness; as to the character and objects of the parties, and almost everything else that is involved, the illustration and the thing illustrated are utterly unlike.
And when it is said, “The kingdom of heaven is like leaven, which a woman took, and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened” (Matthew 13:33), what sense is there in looking for some spiritual truth illustrated by the number three, or in saying that the woman represents the Church, when as a matter of course a woman and not a man would be introduced in a story as making up bread? In undertaking to interpret a parable, we must learn from the connection what subject our Lord used it to illustrate — must then notice what light the parable as a whole throws on that subject, what aspects of the subject it brings to our view — and finally inquire how far we may fairly regard the several details of the story as separately significant. In this last respect we must avoid extremes, exercise sound judgment, and constantly keep in mind that the parable is an illustration, and founded on some resemblance or analogy which is at best only partial. After thus studying one of the parables of Christ, we are prepared to preach upon it, with some prospect of bringing out its real meaning and legitimate applications.
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§ 4. Brief Rules for Interpreting a Text
Though we have discussed at length the chief sources of error in the interpretation of texts, and illustrated them by many examples, it seems best to give, positively, some account of the principles upon which one must proceed if he would interpret correctly. Good treatises on Interpretation are accessible, and it is sufficient here to give several brief rules.
1. Interpret grammatically. Endeavor to ascertain the precise meaning of the words and phrases used in the text. Inquire whether any of them have a peculiar sense in Scripture, and whether such peculiar sense holds in this passage. If there are key-words in the text, or words of special importance, examine, by the help of a Concordance, other passages in which such word is employed. This is best done in the original, because our version will often have the same word where the Hebrew or Greek is different, and the same Greek or Hebrew word will be used in important passages where our version renders differently. There are admirable Concordances of the Hebrew and the Greek, and where these are not in possession, the Lexicons of those languages will give many references, frequently all. In cases of special importance, able men not acquainted with the originals have found it useful to employ the Englishman’s Greek Concordance of the N. T., and the Englishman’s Hebrew Concordance of the O. T. In the New Test., the Index to Winer’s Grammar will show whether he has explained any grammatical constructions in the text. The best translations into our own or other languages will often throw light on the text, or raise questions as to its meaning which we may find it useful to pursue. Familiar passages often assume great freshness, and suggest new trains of thought, when looked at in a new English Version, or a translation into Latin, French, German, etc. Even those who can use the original languages find this true, because one is so apt when looking at the Hebrew or Greek to be really looking through it at the familiar English version, as if written underneath. And then by all means examine the best accessible Commentaries, not such as remark upon the text, and enlarge upon its teachings, but such as carefully explain the exact meaning.
This grammatical study of the text can scarcely be made too minute or protracted. Whately used to say, “Before writing your sermon, look at your text with a microscope,” and Shedd justly remarks: “Every particle of care in first obtaining an excellent text and then getting at, and getting out, its real meaning and scope, goes to render the actual construction and composition of the sermon, more easy and successful. Labor at this point saves labor at all after points.”
2. Interpret logically. The connection of thought in which a text stands will of course throw light upon its meaning, and is usually indispensable to understanding it. This logical connection will sometimes really be the entire book to which the text belongs. There are very few sentences in Hebrews, or in the first eleven chapters of Romans, which can be fully understood without having in mind the entire argument of the Epistle. Of course this is not so strikingly true in most of the books, but each of them has its own distinctive contents, connection and character. Few things are to be so earnestly urged upon the student of Scripture, as that he shall habitually study its books with reference to their whole connection. Then he can minutely examine any particular text with a correct knowledge of its general position and surroundings. But in a narrower sense there is a context, which will embrace from a few verses to a few chapters, before and after the text, and of which the preacher should not only have a general knowledge, but should make special examination, when examining his text; and we must resist the common tendency to imagine that this context begins or ends with the chapter in which the text stands. The extent to which such study of the context should be carried, will of course be very different in different cases; but there are scarcely any texts with reference to which it can with propriety be entirely neglected. Wherever it is practicable, the context, as well as the text, should by all means be read in the original languages, or with such other helps as are recommended under the foregoing rule. In a great number of cases there is an interesting verbal connection between the text and some sentence a little before or after it, which is obscured by the necessary conditions of translation, or by the extreme fondness of our English Version for varying the translation where the original has the same word. It should be remarked that besides the importance of studying the logical connection in order to a thorough understanding of the text, an exposition of the context often forms a good, and sometimes a necessary, introduction to the sermon.
3. Interpret historically. Apart from the logical connection of discourse in which a text is found, there is often important aid to be derived from general historical knowledge. In the narratives, which make up the larger part of Scripture, we have constant need of observing facts of Geography, which would throw light on the text. So as to the Manners and Customs of the Jews, and other nations who appear in the sacred story. Thus much is obvious, though these helps for understanding texts are seldom used as diligently as they should be. But there is also much to be learned by taking account of the opinions and state of mind of the persons addressed in a text. We need to remember the relations between the speaker or writer and those whom he has specially in view. In order to this, we must not merely know the previous relations of the parties, as in the case of Paul’s Epistles, but must endeavor to ascertain what errors or evils existed among them which the inspired teacher is here aiming to correct. This can often be gathered from the book itself. No trouble need ever have been felt as to the supposed contradiction between Paul and James with regard to justification, if attention had been paid to the theoretical and practical errors at which they are respectively aiming. In the case of our Lord’s teachings, much may be learned from the Gospels, and also from the Jewish writings, and the modern works founded on them, concerning the wrong notions and evil practices existing among the Jews, and to which his sayings have often a very direct and specific reference. With respect, for example, to divorce, to oaths, to the Sabbath, or to the duty of paying tribute, his teachings will be imperfectly apprehended unless we understand the practical abuses and vehement controversies which existed among his hearers as to those subjects. On such points the best Commentaries give some information. Or, to take a different kind of example, the words “No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him” (John 6:44), were not spoken as a mere general, didactic utterance, much less were they addressed to humble and anxious inquirers, but were aimed at an utterly unspiritual rabble, who were following him not from any elevated motives, but from mere fanatical excitement, and in the hope of continuing to be fed without working for it — who called themselves his disciples, and talked about forcing him to set up for king. The recollection of all this does not weaken the force of what he said, but it helps us to appreciate his specific aim at the moment, and gives us an important example as to the adaptation of doctrine. The more one attends to the subject the more he is likely to become convinced, that almost everything in the New Testament, as well as much in the Old, is really controversial in its specific design, and that we must constantly inquire what errors or evil practices are aimed at, in order to appreciate the precise bearing given, in any text, to the principles it may contain, and the modifications of statement which may be necessary (mutatis mutandis) in turning these principles towards new applications.
4. Interpret figuratively, where there is sufficient reason. Wherever it is clear, from the nature of the case, from the connection, or from precisely similar expressions in other passages, that the literal sense is not designed, then we must understand figuratively. In the language of Scripture, as in all other language, the presumption is in favor of the literal sense. To explain away as figurative whatever seems to conflict with doctrinal prejudices, or with fanciful notions and morbid feelings as to ethics or aesthetics, or with hasty inferences from imperfectly established scientific facts, is to trifle with that which we acknowledge as an authoritative revelation. Still, there is very much in Scripture that is clearly figurative; and very much more which might so readily be thus understood, in the light of other Scripture usage, that we ought to be careful about building important theories upon its literal sense. This is especially true as regards prophecies of things yet to come, in which it is of necessity quite difficult to distinguish beforehand between literal and figurative, though the fulfilment will some day make it plain. And remember that language may be highly figurative without being fictitious. Only ascertain what the figures of Scripture were designed to mean, and that meaning is as certainly true as if stated in plain words. Thus the “fire that cannot be quenched” may be called a figure, if you choose; yet it assuredly means that in hell there will be something as bad as fire, something as torturing as fire is to the earthly body — nay, the reality of hell, as well as of heaven, does no doubt greatly transcend the most impressive imagery that earthly things can afford.
5. Interpret allegorically, where that is clearly proper. We cannot take it for granted that any passage has an allegorical, or so-called “spiritual” sense, merely because the notion suits our fancy, or would promote our convenience. There must be good reason to think so. Whatever the New Testament so uses, is certainly allegorical; whatever else is precisely similar to matters so used in the New Testament, is very probably allegorical. Farther than this, we have surely no right to go. We may derive illustration, our own illustration, of spiritual things from perhaps everything in Scripture history, prophecies and proverbs, as we may from profane history and from nature; but we have no more right to present the former as interpretation, than the latter. Joseph furnishes a good illustration, in certain respects, of Christ; and so does the Athenian, who held up his mutilated arm before the people to plead for his brother. Why then, merely because we can draw illustration from the case of Joseph, shall we call him a “type” of Christ? Moreover, because some things in the Levitical rites, the history of Joshua, David or Cyrus, the Proverbs of Solomon, or the book of Isaiah, have in addition to their natural sense, an allegorical reference to Christ, it does not follow that everything comprised therein has such a reference. As to the whole subject, we must avoid extremes; and it would seem to be a good rule as to preaching, that while probable allegorical meanings may be adduced, as probable, in the progress of a discourse, no allegorical meaning shall be taken as a text, which does not result from an interpretation having clear warrant in Scripture usage. And two things deserve to be carefully borne in mind. The rage for “spiritualizing” causes many to overlook, or practically neglect, the exceedingly varied and valuable lessons as to Divine Providence and human duty which are afforded by passages in their natural sense. Those who insist on making Joseph a type of Christ, are apt never to hold up before their hearers his interesting and impressive example, of steadfast faith in God amid crushing adversity and sudden prosperity, of resistance to powerful temptation because yielding would be to “sin against God,” of wise affection in dealing with his kindred, and the like. So in a thousand instances, and there is here one way in which compensation may be found for the loss arising from the abandonment of wild spiritualizing. The other consideration is, that many passages which can be interpreted only, so far as we have warrant to go, in a natural sense, may yield copious instruction as to properly spiritual things, in that the principle they contain, or the analogy they present, may be by us applied or extended to something spiritual — this being done on our own responsibility, yet sustained by manifest propriety, and by other passages.
6. Interpret in accordance with, and not contrary to, the general teachings of Scripture. These teachings are harmonious, and can be combined into a symmetrical whole. If a passage may have two senses, owing to the ambiguity of some word or construction, to the doubt whether some expression is figurative, etc., then we must choose one which accords with what the Bible in general plainly teaches, rather than one which would make the Bible contradict itself. It is a gross abuse of this principle — though one often practised — to force upon a passage some meaning which its words and constructions do not grammatically admit of, in order that it may give the sense required by our system. But between possible grammatical meanings we are compelled to choose upon some principle, and certainly one important principle to be considered is that the teachings of Scripture must be consistent. Where the grammatical probabilities are pretty evenly balanced, a comparatively slight preference in the respect mentioned must turn the scale; and even a much less probable sense — provided it be grammatically possible, and sustained by some corresponding usage of language — may be preferred to a more probable and common sense, if the former would perfectly accord, and the latter would grossly conflict, with the acknowledged general teachings of Scripture. In order to apply this principle with propriety and safety, it is manifestly necessary that we should bring to bear no narrow and hasty views of Scripture teaching, but the results of a wide, thoughtful, and devout study of Biblical Theology.
The careful examination of Scripture “references” in studying a text, is a matter of great importance. These will often help in the grammatical part of interpretation, by showing how the same words and phrases are elsewhere employed; and in the historical, by showing how the same subject was presented under different circumstances, or what was the peculiar state of things in which the text was uttered. They may also assist us, by presenting parallel or analogous Scripture usage, in determining whether expressions of the text ought to be taken as figurative, or as allegorical; and there are cases in which even a few other passages will so far set forth the general teachings of Scripture on the subject involved in the text, as to be of service in choosing among the possible meanings of its language. Moreover, the “reference” passages will very often furnish useful material for the body of the sermon, suggesting to us new aspects, proofs, illustrations or applications of the subject treated. The young preacher should make it a fixed rule to consult the references to his text; and many men and women have become “mighty in the Scriptures,” by the diligent use of references in their daily reading.
2. The Materials of Preaching: Explanation and Illustration
John A. Broadus, A Treatise on the Preparation and Delivery of Sermons, first edition (Philadelphia, 1870), part I, chapter V, “Special Materials — Explanation,” opening and § 1, and chapter VII, “Illustration,” §§ 1–3. Text of the 1870 first edition (Broadus’s own text). Abridged; omissions are marked […]. Primary source; the interpretations are the author’s.
CTS note: Broadus names four kinds of special materials for sermons: explanation, argument (proof), illustration and application. The source reader for this course contains his chapters on explanation and illustration only. His chapter on argument is not included, and application appears in his treatment of the sermon’s conclusion (chapter 3 of this textbook). His examples from science and the newspapers reflect the nineteenth century. This chapter follows Broadus’s 1870 first edition, where explanation and illustration are chapters V and VII. Passages found only in the 1898 revision by E. C. Dargan, such as those quoting Beecher’s Yale Lectures (1872), are not included.
Part I, Chapter V. Special Materials — Explanation
The materials of preaching are obviously boundless. To collect in general, by observation, reading and reflection, and then to select and adapt to the design of each particular discourse, is the preacher’s great task. And not only the character of the materials, but the method of handling them, must vary indefinitely, according to the design of the sermon. But certain special classes of materials are of such importance, and their proper treatment of such difficulty, as to justify a separate discussion. The classes here selected for that purpose, and treated in successive chapters, are the materials of Explanation, of Proof, of Illustration, and of Application. This is not presented as a scientific classification of materials. It by no means embraces all, and its departments sometimes overlap. Thus illustration may be employed to explain, to prove, or to impress; application may embrace explanation, proof, and persuasion; and certain processes which are always classed under explanation, as narration and description, are often used at the same time, and even mainly, for other than explanatory ends. But it is thought that a scientific classification would here be less useful than the practical discussion of certain leading objects according to which the preacher must invent and handle his materials.
There is in preaching very frequent need of Explanation. Numerous passages of Scripture are not understood, or are even misunderstood, by our hearers; and many have become so accustomed to passing over these, as to be no longer aware that they present any difficulty. Some of the most important doctrines of the Bible are in general very imperfectly understood; those who receive them need clearer views of what they profess to believe, and those who object to them are often in fact objecting to something very different from the real doctrine. The plan of salvation is seldom comprehended till one is really willing to conform to it, so that there is constantly arising new occasion for answering the great question, “What must I do to be saved?” And a thousand questions as to what is true and what is right in the practical conduct of life, perplex devout minds, and call for explanation. Preaching ought to be not merely convincing and persuasive, but eminently instructive. We often belabor men with arguments and appeals, when they are much more in need of practical and simple explanations, as regards what to do, and how to do it. And while some persons present may have repeatedly heard us explain certain important matters, we must not forget that there are others, children growing up, strangers moving in, converts entering the church, to whom such explanations will be new, and are in the highest degree necessary.
But just here the inexperienced minister may profit by several homely cautions. Do not attempt to explain what is not assuredly true. One sometimes finds great difficulty in working out an explanation of a supposed fact or principle, because it is really not true. Do not undertake to explain what you do not understand. Oh the insufferable weariness of listening to a man who does this! And in preaching as well as elsewhere, it happens so often as to be ridiculous, if it were not mournful. How can the housewife cook what has never been caught? How can the preacher explain what he does not understand? Never try to explain what cannot be explained. Some things taught in the Bible are in their essence incomprehensible; as, for example, the nature of the Trinity, or the coexistence of absolute Divine predestination with human freedom and accountability. In such a case it is very important to explain just what the Scriptures really do teach, so as to remove misapprehensions; and it may sometimes be worth while to present any remote analogies in other spheres of existence, so as perhaps to diminish the hearer’s unwillingness to receive the doctrine; but attempts to explain the essential difficulty must necessarily fail, and the failure will react so as only to strengthen doubt and opposition. Do not waste time in explaining what does not need explanation. A conspicuous instance is the nature of faith. Men frequently complain that they do not understand what it really is to believe, and preachers are constantly laboring to explain. But the complaint is in many cases a mere excuse for rejection or delay, and the real difficulty is in all cases a lack of disposition to believe. Elaborate explanations do not lessen this indisposition, do but strengthen the supposed excuse, and may even embarrass the anxious inquirer with the notion that there is something very mysterious about faith, when it is in fact so simple as not to admit of being explained. Our main duty is to tell the people what to believe, and why they should believe it.
§ 1. Explanation of Texts
To explain the Scriptures would seem to be among the primary functions of the preacher. And there will often be occasion to explain, not merely the text of the sermon, but various other passages of Scripture which may be introduced into the discussion. The power of making such explanations attractive as well as clear, will of course depend largely upon the preacher’s turn of mind. But the most gifted in respect of this important task should seek constant improvement, and they who have great difficulty must put forth diligent and hopeful efforts to overcome it. What nobler work than that of “opening” the Scriptures, as Paul did at Thessalonica? (Acts 17:3.)
The exegesis of texts, as the process by which the preacher himself comes to understand them, has already received our attention, Pulpit exegesis, or exposition, is in certain respects a different thing. We have here, save in exceptional cases, to present results and not processes. We must omit various matters, which have perhaps greatly interested ourselves, because they would not interest the people, or do not pertain to the object of the present discourse. Preachers sometimes allow themselves, in the introduction to the sermon or as a digression, to give long explanations of something in a passage or its connection, which has no bearing on their subject, and thus impairs unity, and distracts attention. There must of course be no parade of acquaintance with the original languages, and there should be no morbid fear of being charged with such parade. Commentaries may be mentioned if the people know something of them, and would thereby be more readily satisfied, or if it is desirable to bring good popular authors to their notice. To repeat lists of strange and high-sounding names in favor of this or that interpretation, is always useless, and is in general a very pitiful display of cheap erudition, which with the help of certain books may all be gotten up at second hand in a few minutes. One may very easily indicate, without any array of authorities, that this is the view of the best writers, of some good commentators, etc. The great matter is, to take the results of the most careful investigation in our power, select from them such points as are appropriate, and present these clearly, briefly, and if possible in such a way as to be interesting. Sometimes the text, or another passage introduced, may be amply and admirably explained by a few words; but such words do not come of themselves — they result from close thinking, and careful choice of expressions. Sometimes passages may be introduced in such a connection, as without a word of explanation to give them new meaning and preciousness. It is a fault in many able ministers, that they comparatively neglect to bring in and explain the apposite sayings of Scripture which would both give and borrow light. And however congregations may shrink from elaborate exegesis or bungling and tedious attempts to explain, they will always welcome the felicitous introduction, and quick, vivid elucidation of passages from God’s Word.
Narration has in preaching a peculiar character. Recent works on Rhetoric treat of it almost exclusively as practised in historical writing and the like. Ancient writers treat of oratorical narration, and are therefore more valuable for our purpose, though relating chiefly to the narrative in judicial oratory. The preacher of course narrates as a speaker, and deals mainly with Scripture history. A speaker must always subordinate narration to the object of his discourse, the conviction or persuasion which he wishes to effect. He must not elaborate or enlarge upon some narrative merely because in itself interesting, nor follow the story step by step, according to its own laws. “In demonstrative speeches the narration is not continuous, but given in scattered portions; for one must go over the actions out of which the speech arises; for a speech is a kind of compound, having one portion, indeed, independent of art, and another portion originating in art.” That is, the facts are independent of the speaker, but he breaks them up and presents them according to his object. “Owing to this, there are times when one ought not to narrate every fact successively; because this mode of exposition is difficult to remember. The one style of narration is too simple; the other has the grace of variety, and is not so void of elegance. But what you have to do is to awaken the recollection of facts well known; on which account many subjects will stand in no need of narration — supposing, for instance, you would praise Achilles, because all are acquainted with his actions — but you must simply use the actions without narration. If, on the other hand, one wishes to praise Critias, it is necessary to narrate; for not many are acquainted with his exploits.”
And so when we preach with reference to the minor and less familiar personages of Scripture, it is proper enough to narrate all the facts concerning them. But when it is one of the great characters we must choose between two courses. We may select the salient or characteristic points of his history, and so narrate these as to exhibit the chief lessons of that history, introducing such details as are to the purpose, and rigorously omitting all others. Thus the history of Joseph, of Job, of John the Baptist, may be conveniently treated. In such a case, every speaker will mention or enlarge upon different parts of the history, according to his particular object; as Stephen’s speech, and that of Paul at Antioch in Pisidia, sketch very differently the history of Israel; and as Paul in the two speeches which tell the story of his conversion, expands in each of them certain matters which in the other are but slightly touched, adapting the narration to the character and wants of his audience. But it is generally better to choose some one event of the man’s history, or some one trait of his character, and narrate only what bears upon that. In preaching upon the meekness of Moses, there would be occasion to state briefly those circumstances of his training and career which were particularly unfavorable to the development of meekness, and then to narrate, with vivid touches, the leading instances in which his meekness was exhibited, as well as those in which it temporarily failed; and the discourse would properly close with a somewhat extended application of the whole matter to ourselves. In this way the history of Moses would be much more impressively reproduced, than if one should attempt an outline of the whole.
Narration is usually given in the introduction to the sermon. In so doing special pains, should be taken not to have it too long, not to wander into parts of the story which have no bearing upon the design of the discourse, and not to pause, except in very rare cases, for remarks upon outside topics which the narrative may suggest. There is especial danger here of violating the laws of unity and proportion.
Besides the instances in which some history in the Bible is our theme, there will be constant occasion to derive illustration from Scripture history, and great demand for skill in the brief and interesting narration of events thus employed. Happy the preacher who can in this way keep ever fresh in the minds of his hearers those beautiful and sacred stories, which are not only sweet to the heart of childhood and full of instruction to youth, but which, when rightly contemplated, assume new interest and meaning at every stage of life.
It is a rather common fault in the pulpit to narrate in a declamatory way. The preacher has become excited, and he states a plain fact, or tells a simple story, with such vehemence and boisterousness as to be extremely incongruous. Quintilian keenly satirizes those who think it beneath their dignity to set forth facts in every-day language, who do not seem to themselves eloquent, unless they have thrown everything into agitation by boisterous vociferation, and instead of simply narrating, imagine that they have here a field for showing off, and “inflect the voice, set back the neck, and fling the arm against the side, and riot in every variety of ideas, words, and style.” Let us learn the lesson.
Description is usually a necessary part of narration, separate scenes of the narrative being to some extent described. There is also frequent occasion to describe Scripture scenes apart from their connection in the narrative, as in the introduction to a sermon, in the employment of historical illustrations from Scripture, etc. And while we speak here of narration and description only as regards the events and scenes of the Bible history, it is obvious that the same skill may be applied to that great variety of illustrative matter from every other source, which must be vividly narrated or described in order to make any impression. A leading American preacher has said that “he who would hold the ear of the people, must either tell stories, or paint pictures.”
Power of description is of course partly a natural gift; but many intelligent men will marvel and lament that they cannot describe, when they have never fairly tried — never given themselves any general training in that respect, nor ever really studied any one scene or object which they attempted to describe. Such men are aware that they cannot work, out an argument without much previous thought, but seem not aware that corresponding effort is necessary in order to achieve a good description.
He who would describe anything, must have seen it; not necessarily with bodily vision, but with the mind’s eye. He must begin, then, with gaining correct information about the scene or object; and this information must extend, if possible, to details. As regards Scripture scenes, there is often need of a familiar acquaintance with Biblical Geography, and with the manners and customs of the Jews. While gathering such information, and after doing so, he must fasten his mind upon the scene, so that the imagination may realize it; he must look at it as he would at a landscape or a painting, first surveying the whole, then inspecting the most interesting details, and afterwards comprising all in a general view. This should be kept up, with the point of view varied, and repeated effort to imagine, till the whole scene stands out clear and vivid before the eye of the mind; only then is he prepared to describe it.
Remember now that a speaker is not to describe as the writer of a poem, a romance, or a book of travels might do, but is to make the description brief, and subordinate to the objects of his discourse; we may thus perceive, in a general way, how the description should be managed. The outlines of the picture should be rapidly drawn, and may be rude, provided they are distinct. Then certain prominent or characteristic points of the scene must be presented. And with some of these there should be given a few of the most suggestive details, which will arouse the hearer’s imagination to fill up the picture. In this lies the great art of description, especially for speakers — to stimulate the hearer’s imagination into seeing for himself. Sometimes there are a few details so characteristic, that they need only the slightest indication of outline to make a picture; as in a caricature, one or two peculiar features, somewhat exaggerated, and a few rude lines beside, will be more amusing than a finished picture, because more suggestive. And even where no remarkably striking details present themselves, one may contrive slight touches here and there, which will give life to the whole. If these are not afforded by our knowledge of the facts, they may be avowedly imagined, care being taken to have them suggest only what will harmonize with the facts. Thus in that remarkable home-scene at Bethany, after describing Mary seated at Jesus’ feet, and hearing his word, one might imagine Martha as coming to the door of the room, her face heated with excitement and vexation, and after vainly striving to catch Mary’s eye and call her forth, at length stepping straight to the Master himself, with her complaining request; and this slight glance at her before she enters will help to realize the scene.
Avoid elaborate description. The preacher is expected always to cherish so practical a design, and feel such absorbing earnestness, as not to have time for painting finished pictures. Hearers of good taste will always feel them to be out of place. As regards the temptation to give high-wrought descriptions, because it will show one’s talent in that respect, this must of course be resisted, like all other temptations to display. But we cannot turn to the best account the historical portions of Scripture, nor use to advantage other narrative and pictorial illustration, without cultivating our powers of narration and description; and he who will patiently strive, under the guidance of correct principles, first to see clearly, and then to describe suggestively, may ere long surprise himself by the facility and pleasure with which he can bring out, in not many words, some story or scene from the Bible.
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Part I, Chapter VII. Illustration
§ 1. Various Uses of Illustration
To illustrate, according to the etymology, is to throw light (or lustre) upon a subject; and hence illustration would strictly include only explanation and ornament. But that which explains may also contain a proof by analogy; or that which adorns a subject may at the same time connect with it pathetic associations. Accordingly, what we call illustrations are used to explain, to prove, to adorn, and to render impressive. Strictly speaking, one would not call illustration a distinct class of the materials of discourse. As a means of explaining, proving, or awakening emotion, it would fall under the heads of Explanation, Argument, and Application; as a means of adornment, it would belong to Elegance of Style. But as the same illustration often subserves different ends, and as the proper handling of illustrations is a matter of great practical importance, it seems best to give the subject a separate discussion.
(1.) Perhaps the principal use of illustrations is to explain. This they do either by presenting an example of the matter in hand, a case in point (Exemplification), or by presenting something similar or analogous to it,, which will make the matter plain.
(2.) But illustrations are also very frequently employed to prove. This is done in some rare cases by presenting an example which warrants an Induction; commonly, it is an argument from Analogy. In Romans, chap. 6 and 7, the apostle introduces three illustrations, as showing the absurdity of supposing that justification by faith will encourage to sin: believers are dead to sin, and risen to another life; they have ceased to be the slaves of sin, and become the slaves (so to speak) of holiness, of God; they have ceased to be married to the law, and are married to a new husband, Christ, to whom they must now bear fruit. Each of these is not merely explanatory of the believer’s position, but involves an argument from analogy. So with the olive-tree in chap. 11, We have heretofore seen that arguments from analogy are most frequently and most safely employed in refutation; and that when used to establish positive truth, they demand very great care, lest we deceive ourselves and others.
The fact that an illustration may furnish proof at the same time that it serves for explanation, ornament, etc., calls for special attention. Some analogy may be so ornamental, so amusing, or pathetic, as to make us overlook the fact that it has of right an argumentative force also; and some comparison may be so beautiful an ornament as to be allowed force in the way of proof when in reality it is a mere simile founded on resemblance, and presents no true analogy, and thus no argument. We should look closely at illustrations employed for other purposes, and see whether they also contain an argument.
(3.) Illustrations are valuable as an ornament. Their use for this purpose, as to kind and amount, must be governed by the general principles which pertain to Elegance of Style. Those who find themselves much inclined to the use of ornamental illustration, should exercise a rigorous self-control, and so cultivate their taste that it will discard all but the genuinely beautiful. Those whose style is barren of such ornament should seek after it, not by tying on worn and faded artificial flowers, but by encouraging the subject to blossom, if that be at all its nature.
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The importance of illustration in preaching is beyond expression. In numerous cases it is our best means of explaining religious truth, and often to the popular mind our only means of proving it. Ornament, too, has its legitimate place in preaching, and -whatever will help us to move the hard hearts of men is unspeakably valuable. Besides, for whatever purpose illustration may be specially employed, it often causes the truth to be remembered. Sometimes, indeed, even where its force as an explanation or proof was not at first fully apprehended, the illustration, particularly if it be a narrative, is retained in the mind until subsequent instruction or experience brings out the meaning. Such was frequently the case with the first hearers of our Lord’s Parables. In preaching to children, and to the great mass of adults, illustration is simply indispensable, if we would either interest, instruct or impress them; while good illustration is always acceptable and useful to hearers of the highest talent and culture. The example of our Lord decides the whole question; and the illustrations which so abound in the records of his preaching ought to be heedfully studied by every preacher, as to their source, their aim, their style, and their relation to the other elements of his teaching. Among the Christian preachers of different ages who have been most remarkable for affluence and felicity of illustration, there may be mentioned Chrysostom, Jeremy Taylor, Christmas Evans, Chalmers, Spurgeon and Beecher.
§ 2. Sources of Illustration
Illustration of religious truth may be drawn from the whole realm of existence and of conception. It might seem idle to make any classification of the sources, but there are two reasons for doing so. The preacher may thereby be stimulated to seek such materials in directions which he has comparatively neglected, and the attempt at classification will furnish the occasion for some practical remarks in passing.
(1.) Observation. It is pre-eminently important that the teacher of religion should be a close observer; partly that he may know how to adapt religious instruction to the real character of his hearers, and the actual conditions of their life, but also that he may be able to draw from that inexhaustible store of illustration which lies everywhere open to the man who has eyes to see and ears to hear.
Nature teems with analogies to moral truth; and we should not merely accept those which force themselves on our attention, but should be constantly searching for them. Besides those analogies which are embodied in our familiar metaphors, and those which belong to the common stock of illustration, there are others, almost without number, which every thoughtful observer may perceive for himself; and here, as elsewhere, what is even relatively original has thereby an augmented power. The writings of John Foster are particularly rich in such analogies, and his Memoir shows that he habitually sought for them, and systematically recorded all that he found. Several of our Lord’s most impressive illustrations are drawn from his own close observation of nature; as, for example, the lily, the mustard-seed, the birds. And notice that although these are all so stated as to be very beautiful, he employs them for higher ends, for explanation or for argument. There is here an important lesson, for preachers who derive illustration from nature are too apt to follow the poets in making it chiefly ornamental.
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It should not be forgotten that much of the choicest illustration is derived from the commonest pursuits and the most familiar experiences of life, and a man may excel in this respect without living in New York or London. The great mass of our Lord’s illustrations are drawn from ordinary human life. Of agricultural operations, we find reference to sowing wheat and various circumstances which help or hinder its growth, to harvesting, winnowing, and putting in barns, to the management of fig-trees and vineyards, and to bottling the wine. In domestic affairs, he speaks of building houses, various duties of servants and stewards, leavening bread, baking, and borrowing loaves late at night, of dogs under the table, patching clothes, and their exposure to moth, lighting lamps, and sweeping the house. As to trade, etc., he mentions the purchase of costly pearls, finding hid treasure, money intrusted to servants as capital, lending on interest, creditors and debtors, imprisonment for debt, and tax-gatherers. Among social relations, he tells of feasts, weddings and bridal processions, the judge and the widow who had been wronged, the rich man and the beggar, the good Samaritan. Of political affairs, he alludes to kings going to war, and the parable of the ten pounds (Luke 19:11 ff.) corresponds in every particular to the history of Archelaus in our Lord’s childhood. The Prodigal Son is a series of the most beautiful pictures of real life. And who can think without emotion of Jesus standing in some market-place, and watching children at their sports, from which he afterwards drew a striking illustration? All these form but a part of the illustrative material which, in our brief records of his teaching, we find him deriving from the observation of human life, and in nearly every case from matters familiar to all. The lesson is obvious, but it should be pondered long.
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(2.) Pure invention. It is perfectly lawful to invent an illustration, even in the form of a story, provided that it possesses verisimilitude, and provided that we either show it to be imaginary, or let nothing depend upon the idea that it is real. It seems almost certain that some of our Lord’s Parables are in this sense fictitious. It is shown, in one case, by the very form of the expression, “The sower went forth to sow.” When we use imagined illustration as affording an argument, great care must be taken to make it fair. It is very common for controversial speakers or writers to “suppose a case,” and suppose it of such a kind as just to suit their purpose, without due regard to fairness. “If lions were the sculptors, the lion would be uppermost.” Imagined illustrations for explanation or ornament are frequently too formal or elaborate. “As when some giant oak,” etc. etc. “Suppose there were a man and suppose and suppose,” etc. We all know how such things are done.
(3.) Science. Besides what is derived from our own observation of nature and of human life, there is an immense fund of illustration in Science, which, collecting the results of a far wider observation, classifies and seeks to explain them. With the vast growth of Physical Science in our day, and the extensive diffusion of some knowledge of its leading departments, it becomes increasingly appropriate that preachers should draw illustration from that source. In this way, too, they will most effectually counteract the efforts of some infidel men of science, and some unwise teachers of religion, to bring Christianity and Science into an appearance of hostility. It is much better, both for this purpose and for others, that a preacher should strive to be well acquainted with one or a few departments of Physical Science, than that he should dip lightly into many.
Two especial difficulties beset the use of scientific illustration. It has been so common to make Astronomy, Geology, etc. the occasion for marvellous flights of would-be eloquence, that many persons shrink from all allusion to such subjects, as savoring of mere declamation. But one highly objectionable extreme should not drive us to the other. It is surely possible to use such illustrations in a direct and quiet fashion; and if now and then they really kindle the imagination and excite emotion, in such cases it will be natural, and the effect will be good. But beware of borrowing from Chalmers’ Astronomical Sermons; it is wearing Saul’s armor. The other difficulty is, that much of the finest scientific illustration demands more knowledge of science than the great mass of hearers really possess. Now an illustration which would be particularly acceptable and profitable to a few, may sometimes be employed, provided we introduce it with some quiet remark, not saying that most persons are unacquainted with this subject, but that such persons as happen to have paid attention to such or such a matter will remember, etc. Then no one will complain of our alluding to a topic of which he is ignorant. Or it may be proper to give the information necessary in order to appreciate the illustration, provided we can do so in few words, and without anything that looks like display. It is certainly lawful to spend as much time upon describing a phenomenon or explaining a principle of nature which will afford good illustration, as we should spend upon telling an anecdote for the same purpose, if only the description or explanation be made intelligible and interesting to all. Some sermons are but scientific lectures, with a religious application.
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All preachers derive illustration from the news of the day. Some carry this too far, warranting the reproach that they “get the text from the Bible, and the sermon from the newspapers.” But it is a grave mistake if any are thereby repelled into avoiding a source of illustration so fresh in its interest, and so much more generally familiar to the audience than either science or history. By judiciously alluding to all suitable matters of recent occurrence, whether recorded in the newspapers, or happening in our own community, we may render the sermon more interesting, and may at the same time have opportunity to throw in useful practical remarks about many questions of right and wrong. The danger is, that we shall set the people’s minds a-going upon the matters which occupy them every day, to the neglect of our sacred theme. This may be avoided if on the one hand we take care not to intermingle an excessive amount of such allusion, and on the other hand to keep it strictly subordinate, in our own feelings and in the method of introduction, to the religious aim of the discourse. If not thus subordinate, then the most interesting allusion will be the worst illustration.
Anecdotes, literally things unpublished, originally denoted interesting matters, chiefly historical and biographical incidents, gathered from unpublished manuscripts of ancient authors, and thrown into a miscellaneous collection. Though now more widely used, the term is still most properly applied to stories of what one has himself observed, or has drawn from oral sources. Understood, however, in the wider sense, so as to include published narratives of detached incidents, anecdotes are a valuable means of illustration, which some preachers employ excessively or in bad taste, but which others ought to employ much more largely than they do. He who feels that his style would be degraded by introducing an anecdote, may profitably inquire whether his style be not too stilted, or -at any rate too monotonous in its sustained elevation, for popular discourse. Let anecdotes be certainly true, if we present them as true, and let them be told without exaggeration or “embellishment.” Let them not be ludicrous — though a slight tinge of delicate humor is sometimes lawful — not trivial, and especially not tedious. And as illustration is in general a subordinate thing in preaching, and that which is subordinate should rarely be allowed to become prominent, a preacher should avoid such a multiplication of anecdotes in the same sermon, or in successive sermons, as would attract very special attention. A greater freedom, both as to amount and kind, is admissible in platform-speaking, than in those more grave discourses which are usually called sermons.
(5.) Literature and Art. Even when science and history have been excluded, literature, ancient and modern in prose and in verse, covers an immense field, and offers a vast store of illustrative material. Suggestive, pleasing, or impressive sentiments, and striking expressions may be quoted, and allusion made to well-known literary works and characters, whenever it will really help to render the discourse interesting and useful. Quotations of poetry, though made by some men in offensive excess, are employed by very many with admirable effect; and while a few need to check their exuberance in this respect, the great mass of ministers should stimulate themselves to observe and retain more largely, and to use more freely, any appropriate poetical quotations. No one can have failed to notice how often quotations from hymns, particularly when they are familiar, add greatly to the interest and impressiveness of a sermon. Spurgeon often uses these very effectively. The Pilgrim’s Progress, -with its strong sense and homely simplicity, its poetic charm and devotional sweetness, is so rich in the choicest illustration that every preacher ought to make himself thoroughly familiar with it, and to refresh his knowledge again and again through life. Fables are so often alluded to in common conversation that we scarcely notice it, and the occasions are very numerous in which they might be usefully employed in preaching. An author of distinction, and of wide attainments and experience of life, remarked some years ago that, in his judgment, next to the Bible and Shakespeare, the most instructive book in the world was sop’s Fables. Even nursery rhymes, though not often exactly appropriate in regular sermons, have been employed to good purpose in speaking to children.
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(6.) Scripture. The Scriptures present materials of illustration suited to every legitimate subject of preaching, and belonging to almost every one of the above-mentioned classes, especially history and biography, poetry and proverbs, and all manner of pointed sayings. Several causes combine to make this the best of all the sources of illustration. The material is to some extent familiar to all, and thus the illustration will be readily intelligible. Again, this material will be much more impressive than any other, because of its sacredness, and its known and felt relation to ourselves. Besides, the frequent use of Scripture illustration serves to revive and extend the knowledge of Scripture among the hearers.
Every preacher should most diligently draw from this source. And to this end, besides keeping on hand some book or other particular portion of the Bible for thorough study, preachers should continue through life the rapid but attentive reading of the whole Bible, that its facts and sayings may be kept fresh in their minds, and readily present themselves for use.
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§ 3. Cautions as to the Employment of Illustration
(1.) Do not use every illustration that occurs to you, nor seek after them for their own sake. The question is, whether this or that will really conduce to the objects of the discourse, will really explain or prove what is under discussion, or make it more interesting and impressive. Some men get a general notion that illustration is a good thing, and that it is their duty to employ it, and they laboriously bring forward so-called illustrations which really effect nothing, and are therefore but useless lumber. Others, who have a fertile fancy or a well-stocked memory, while wanting in genuine culture and good taste, will excessively multiply or expand their illustrations. They forget that command of illustration, like command of words, involves not only copious production, but judicious selection and felicitous adaptation.
(2.) As a general rule, it is not well to talk about illustrating, but just to illustrate. If you can throw the light vividly on your subject, it will seldom be necessary to give notice beforehand that you are about to do so.
(3.) Carefully avoid turning attention away from the subject illustrated to the illustration itself. This is obviously a very grave fault, but is often committed. Illustrations stated at great length, with high-wrought imagery and polished phrase, such as Guthrie frequently employs, will almost inevitably have this effect; though sometimes, as in the case of Chalmers, they may be so felicitous, and applied with such passionate earnestness, that we at last forget everything in the subject illustrated. So many hearers are caring mainly for entertainment, that it is a sad thing if we divert their minds from some subject they ought to consider to the curious or admiring examination of the mere apparatus by which we throw light on it.
From this whole discussion it will be evident that a preacher should be constantly accumulating the materials of illustration. Whether he had better jot down all that occur to him, keep a scrap-book, etc., or rely mainly on his memory, will depend on his mental constitution and habits; but neither method should be employed to the total neglect of the other.
3. Arrangement: The Plan and Parts of a Sermon
John A. Broadus, A Treatise on the Preparation and Delivery of Sermons, first edition (Philadelphia, 1870), part II, chapter I, “Importance of Arrangement,” and chapter II, “The Several Parts of a Sermon,” §§ 1–3. Text of the 1870 first edition (Broadus’s own text). Abridged; omissions are marked […]. Primary source; the interpretations are the author’s.
CTS note: “Arrangement” is the ordering of a sermon’s materials. The “proposition” is a short statement of the subject, and the “divisions” are the main heads of the sermon. Many unnamed quotations in this chapter come from the Swiss preacher Alexandre Vinet, whose Homiletics Broadus admired. This chapter follows Broadus’s 1870 first edition. Passages found only in the 1898 revision by E. C. Dargan, such as those citing Phelps (1881), are not included.
Part II, Chapter I. Importance of Arrangement
The effective arrangement of the materials in a discourse is scarcely less important than their intrinsic interest and force. This is a distinct part of the speaker’s work, and should be contemplated and handled as something apart from invention on the one hand and from style on the other, albeit closely connected with both. In fact, the task calls for a specific talent. Some men exhibit from the very outset a power of constructing discourses which is quite out of proportion to their general abilities; and other men find nothing so difficult to acquire or exercise as skill in arrangement. And here, as in everything else that demands specific talent, there is need of special training and practice.
In this respect the speaker is an architect. Out of gathered materials he is to build a structure, and a structure suited to its specific design. The same, or nearly the same materials may be made into a dwelling, a jail, a factory, a church. But how different the plan of the building according to its design, and how important that it be built with special reference to the design. In like manner, substantially the same materials may be wrought into a story, a dialogue, an essay, or a speech; and several speeches on the same subject, and embodying much the same thoughts, may make a very different impression according to the plan.
Or the speaker’s task may be compared to the organization of an army, and then the concentration of its several divisions upon one objective point.
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(1.) Arrangement is of great importance to the speaker himself. It reacts upon invention. One has not really studied a subject when he has simply thought it over in a desultory fashion, however long-continued and vigorous the thinking may have been. The attempt to arrange his thoughts upon it suggests other thoughts, and can alone give him just views of the subject as a whole. Good arrangement assists in working out the details, whether this be done mentally or in writing. Each particular thought, when looked at in its proper place, develops according to the situation, grows to its surroundings. If one speaks without manuscript, an orderly arrangement of the discourse greatly helps him in remembering it. One reason why some preachers find extemporaneous speaking so difficult is, that they do not arrange their sermons well. And not only to invention and memory, but to emotion also, is arrangement important. Whether in preparation or in delivery, a man’s feelings will flow naturally and freely, only when he has the stimulus, support and satisfaction which comes from conscious order.
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(2.) Still more important is good arrangement as regards the effect upon the audience. It is necessary, first, in order to make the discourse intelligible. “Hearers generally, when the preacher has a poor plan, feel the difficulty, though they may not be able to trace it to its real source; and one of the reasons why a man of truly philosophical mind is able ‘to make things plain’ even to illiterate hearers, is, that he presents clear thoughts in a proper order.” Many persons appear to think that intelligibility is altogether an affair of style; when in fact it depends quite as much on clear thinking and on good arrangement as on perspicuous expression. It is melancholy to think how large a portion of the people, even in favored communities, really do not understand most of the preaching they hear. Not a few would say, like Tennyson’s “Northern Farmer,” if they spoke with equal frankness, that they had often heard “parson a bummin’ awaay,”
“An’ I niver knaw’d whot a mean’d, but I thowt a ‘ad summut to saay, An’ I thowt a said whot a owt to ‘a said, an’ I coom’d awaay.”
And not merely is this true of the comparatively ignorant and stolidly inattentive, but many sermons are not understood by the better class. “The audience keep nothing of the discourse; they carry away, in retiring, an indistinct mass of remarks, of assertions, of appeals, which nothing co-ordinates in their memory, and the impressions received are summed up in the saddest criticism that can be made by a devout person who came to hear with attention: I do not know exactly what the preacher preached about.” Besides, something worse may happen than that the discourse should not be understood; it may be misunderstood, utterly, and with deplorable results. We must strive not merely to render it possible that the people should understand us, but impossible that they should misunderstand.
Again, it greatly contributes to make the discourse pleasing. “Order is heaven’s first law.” Even those phenomena in nature which seem most irregular, and those scenes which appear to be marked by the wildest variety, are pervaded by a subtle order, without which they would not please. Chaos might be terrible, but could never be beautiful. And discourses, which are pleasing but appear to have no plan, will be found really to possess an order of their own, however unobtrusive or peculiar. An ill-arranged sermon may of course contain particular passages that are pleasing, but even these would appear to still greater advantage as parts of an orderly whole, and the general effect of that whole must be incomparably better. Let it be added that a well-arranged discourse will much more surely keep the attention of the audience. And this not merely because it is more intelligible and more pleasing, but also because, being conformed to the natural laws of human thinking, it will more readily carry the hearer’s thoughts along with it.
Further, good arrangement makes a discourse more persuasive. Both in presenting motives and in appeals to feeling, order is of great importance. He who wishes to break a hard rock with his sledge, does not hammer miscellaneously over the surface, but multiplies his blows upon a certain point or along a certain line. They who lift up huge buildings apply their motive power systematically, at carefully chosen points. So when motives are brought to bear upon the will. And the hearer’s feelings will be much more powerfully and permanently excited, when appeals are made in some natural order. “We may, by a word or an isolated act, give a movement to the soul, inclining it immediately to a certain object, to perform an act of will; but this movement is only a shock. By the same means we may repeat, multiply these shocks.... Eloquence consists in maintaining movement by the development of a thought or proof, in perpetuating it, according to the expression of Cicero, ‘What is eloquence but a continuous movement of the soul?’”
And finally, it causes the discourse to be more easily remembered.
The importance of arrangement may be further seen by observing what are the principal elements of good arrangement. They appear to be unity, order, and proportion. It might seem quite unnecessary to urge the importance of unity in a discourse, but it is very often neglected in practice, particularly in text-sermons and expository sermons, which are frequently made up of two or three little sermons in succession. Whether the unity be that of a doctrinal proposition, of an historical person, or of a practical design, in some way there must be unity. And not only this, but order. All that is said might be upon the same subject, while the several thoughts by no means follow one another according to their natural relations, or according to the design of the discourse. But further, there must be proportion. This involves two things. The several parts of the discourse, whether they are distinctly indicated or not, must be so treated as to make up a symmetrical whole. Not that they are to be all discussed at the same length, but at a length proportioned to their relations to each other and to the entire discourse. And besides this proportion of natural symmetry, there is that of specific design. One may treat substantially the same topic, in essentially the same manner, and yet greatly vary the length of particular parts, and the stress laid upon them, according to the object then and there had in view; just as two animals are often found constructed according to the same plan, and with equal symmetry, while yet certain bones are of exceedingly different size, being adapted to special functions.
Coquerel says that the lack of method is the most common fault of preaching, and the most inexcusable because usually the result of insufficient labor. “A man cannot give himself all the qualities of the orator; but by taking the necessary pains, he can connect his ideas, and proceed with order in the composition of a discourse.” Without specific talent for building discourse, one will not find it an easy task, and may never become able to strike out plans that will be remarkably felicitous; but a fair degree of success in arrangement is certainly within the reach of all, provided they are willing to work.
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Part II, Chapter II. The Several Parts of a Sermon
The analysis of a discourse which some writers have proposed is too artificial. Some of the parts which they distinguish are very often blended with other parts. The exposition, for instance, will often constitute the introduction, and in many cases no formal exposition is necessary or appropriate. The proposition of the subject scarcely needs to be treated as a distinct part of the discourse. The simplest and most natural analysis would seem to be that which gives three parts, viz. the introduction, the plan, (including divisions, when these are made,) and the conclusion.
§ 1. The Introduction
1. It can scarcely be necessary to argue at length to the effect that sermons ought generally to have an introduction. Men have a natural aversion to abruptness, and delight in a somewhat gradual approach. A building is rarely pleasing in appearance, without a porch, or something corresponding to a porch. The shining light of dawn, which shineth more and more till the perfect day, teaches us a lesson. And so any composition or address which has no introduction, is apt to look incomplete. An elaborate piece of music will always have a prelude, or at least a few introductory notes; and in poems, histories, etc., there is usually some introduction. The same thing is true as to very many books of the Bible. The introduction has two chief objects, to interest our hearers in the subject, and to prepare them for understanding it. As to the former, a preacher may usually, it is true, count on a certain willingness to hear. Not many come who are hostile to the truth, but very many, alas! who are sadly careless about it. And a much more lively attention may be secured by an interesting introduction. “We all know how much depends in the ordinary affairs of life upon first impressions. The success of his sermon often depends upon the first impressions which a preacher makes upon his hearers in his exordium. If these impressions be favorable, his audience will listen to the remaining part of his discourse with pleasure and attention; and consequently, with profit.” Our aim should be to excite not merely an intellectual interest, but, so far as possible at the outset, a spiritual and practical interest — to bring them into sympathy with our own feeling, and attune their minds into harmony with the subject we design to present. One may sometimes expressly request attention, as did Moses (Deut. 4:1), Isaiah (28:14), Stephen (Acts 7:2), and our Lord (Matt. 15:10); but such a request, if often repeated, would lose its force, and it is usually best to aim at saying something which will at once interest the hearer’s mind. “What is the best way,” asked a young preacher of an older one, “to get the attention of the congregation?” “Give ‘em something to attend to,” was the gruff reply.
The other object, to prepare the audience for understanding the subject, is obviously very important, and to some extent can often be effected. But our efforts in this respect must be carefully guarded against the danger of anticipating something which properly belongs to the body of the discourse.
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There are cases in which it is best to dispense with introduction, and plunge at once into the discussion; for example, when the sermon must needs be long, or when nothing has been struck out that would make a really good introduction. In familiar addresses, as at prayer-meetings, Sunday School meetings, etc., this course is quite often preferable. In all preaching, let there be a good introduction, or none at all. “Well begun is half done.” And ill begun is apt to be wholly ruined.
2. The sources from which the preacher may draw introductions are extremely numerous and various. There may, however, be some advantage in classifying them as follows: (1.) The text. Wherever the meaning of the text requires explanation, this explanation may of course form the introduction. So, too, when an explanation of the context would throw light on the meaning of the text. These seem to be very natural sources; and Robert Hall, with his severe taste, commonly began with some explanation of the text or the context, preferring this to more ambitious introductions. And if not for explanation proper, there may be occasion for illustration of the text, by means of historical and geographical knowledge, such as will make its meaning, though not more clear, yet more vivid and interesting. In other cases, some account of the writer of the text, or of the condition of any particular persons whom he addressed (as in the case of Paul;, may serve to interest hearers in the text, or to prepare them for understanding it.
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Let us turn to consider the qualities of a good Introduction.
The introduction must present some thought closely related to the theme of discourse, so as to lead to the theme with naturalness and ease, and yet a thought quite distinct from the discussion. Inexperienced preachers very frequently err by anticipating in the introduction something which belongs to the body of the discourse; and the danger of doing this should receive their special attention.
As a rule, the introduction should not aim to give instruction separate and apart from the lessons of the discourse. Its design is altogether preparatory. The preacher will often find himself tempted, especially in introductions drawn from the text or context, to remark in passing upon interesting matters which are somehow suggested, but are foreign to his purpose on that occasion. This temptation should be resisted, except in very peculiar cases. You have determined to carry the audience along a certain line of thought, hoping to arrive at a definite and important conclusion. Do not first wander about and stray awhile into other paths, but lead on towards the route selected, and enter it.
The introduction should generally consist of a single thought; we do not want a porch to a porch. But it is frequently appropriate to present some introductory thought, and afterwards give an exposition, which in such cases becomes a part of the body of the discourse, or else constitutes a sort of halt, while we clear the way for the discussion.
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On the other hand, the introduction must not seem to promise too much, in its thoughts, style, or delivery. Let it be such as to excite interest and awaken expectation, provided the expectation can be fairly met by the body of the discourse. It should not be highly argumentative, nor highly impassioned. As to the latter, it must be remembered that even if the preacher is greatly excited at the outset, the audience usually are not, and he had better restrain himself, so as not to get beyond the range of their sympathies. When Cicero broke out with his opening words against Catiline, the Senate was already much excited; and so with Massillon at the funeral of Louis the Great. Such exceptional cases must be decided as they arise. “It is the privilege of talent and the fruit of study and experience, to know when to venture and when to abstain. It cannot be allowed to teaching, strictly so called, to set aside talent or anticipate the dictates of experience.” Moreover, while earnestly seeking to make the introduction interesting and engaging, we must shun the sensational, and the pretentious. Whatever savors of display is exceedingly objectionable in a preacher, and particularly at the outset. And he should not merely begin with personal modesty, but also with official modesty, reserving for some later period of the sermon anything which it may be proper to state with the authority belonging to his office.
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The introduction must not be too long. An eminent preacher, much inclined to this fault, was one day accosted by a plain old man as follows: “Well, you kept us so long in the porch this morning that we hardly got into the house at all.” Of course it may sometimes be much longer than would be generally proper; and the attempt of some writers to tell how many sentences an introduction should contain, is exceedingly unwise. But “where one sermon is faulty from being too abruptly introduced, one hundred are faulty from a long and tiresome preface.”
The introduction, though simple and inelaborate, should be carefully prepared. Quintilian remarks that a faulty proem may look like a scarred face; and that he will certainly be thought a very bad helmsman who lets the ship strike in going out of the harbor. The extemporaneous speaker should know quite exactly what he is to say in the introduction. But it is very doubtful whether he ought, as is frequently recommended and practised, to have the introduction written, when the remainder of the discourse is unwritten. It is too apt to seem formal, and the transition to the unwritten to be abrupt and precipitous, something like stepping from a wharf into deep water, as compared with quietly wading out from the shore. It will sometimes happen that at an early stage of the preparation, an introduction will occur to the mind; more commonly, it has to be struck out or selected after the principal materials have been gathered. But as to the composition of the sermon in detail, (whether it be written or unwritten composition,) the introduction should be composed before the body of the discourse. This is the natural order, and the finished introduction will assist the preacher in composing the remainder, somewhat as it will help the hearers. An introduction to a discourse is quite different from a preface to a book.
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§ 2. Plan and Divisions
1. The body of the discourse must be constructed on some plan, or it is not a discourse at all. Though there be no divisions, and no formal arrangement of any kind, yet the thoughts must follow each other according to the natural laws of thought. Men who rely on their powers of absolute extemporizing, or who imagine themselves to possess a quasi-inspiration, usually stagger and stray in every direction, following no definite line, and accomplishing very little, save where passion comes in, and strikes out an order of its own. The plan of a discourse in the broadest sense includes the introduction and the conclusion, but as these are here discussed separately, we may, for convenience, speak of the plan apart from them.
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One ought to seek not merely for some plan, but for the best. “There are plans energetic and rich, which, applying the lever as deeply as possible, raise the entire mass of the subject; there are others which escape the deepest divisions of the matter, and which raise, so to speak, only one layer of the subject. Here it is, especially here, in the conception of plans, that we distinguish those orators who are capable of the good, from those who are capable of the better — of that better, to say the truth, which is the decisive evidence of talent or of labor. Every one should strive, as far as possible, for this better, and not be content with the first plan which may present itself to his thought, unless, after having fathomed it, he finds it sufficient for his purpose, suited to exhaust his subject, to draw forth its power — unless, in a word, he can see nothing beyond it.” The plan ought to be simple, not only free from obscurity, but free from all straining after effect, and yet ought, so far as possible, to be fresh and striking. So many sermons follow the beaten track, in which we can soon foresee all that is coming, as to make it a weary task even for devout hearers to listen attentively. One feels inclined to utter a plaintive cry, “Worthy brother, excellent brother, if you could only manage to drive us sometimes over a different road, even if much less smooth, even if you do not know it very well — I am so tired of this!” And it is only a plan that strikes, that has any chance of being remembered. Still, we must carefully avoid mere sensational, odd, or “smart” plans. A sermon might excite much interest, and be remembered long, by reason of such qualities, without doing half as much real good as another that was heard quietly and soon forgotten, but made, so far as it went, a salutary impression. We must also avoid great formality of plan.
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2. The plan of a discourse will usually embrace a statement of the subject, what is technically called the Proposition. There is frequently no need of this, the subject being obvious from the text, or sufficiently indicated by the introduction. In most cases, however, the subject should be distinctly stated, even in many text-sermons and expository sermons, and sometimes the proposition requires great care. As to its form, the proposition may be logical or rhetorical. “Religion produces happiness” would be a logical, “The pleasures of piety” a rhetorical proposition. The former conduces to unity, consecutive thinking, argumentative force; the latter to freedom and variety of treatment, giving room for proof, impressive exhibition, application, or whatever mode of treatment may be desired. A preacher will be likely to prefer one or the other according to his turn of mind and training. Whichever he prefers, he ought frequently to employ the other, for the sake of his own improvement and of variety in his discourses. Sometimes the two forms may both be used in the same discourse; thus a man might announce as his subject, “Religion produces happiness, or the pleasures of piety.” A variety of the logical is the interrogative form. This sometimes awakens attention by seeming to leave it an open question, to be decided on the present occasion, whether the proposition involved is true or false, or by stimulating curiosity as to the precise answer to the question which the preacher will give. In some cases it is more consistent with modesty to propose an inquiry than a process of proof. And where the subject requires to be discussed both negatively and affirmatively, the interrogative form of proposition is particularly convenient. “Should the preacher’s subject be, for instance. Evidences of personal piety, it would be more congruous, instead of exposing under this statement, in several items, insufficient or false evidences, and then mentioning in the same series the satisfactory evidences, to raise the inquiry, What are genuine evidences of piety? In answering this inquiry, he might either in a didactic manner deny the sufficiency of certain supposed evidences, or propose various questions, such as Is such a quality, or course of conduct, a genuine evidence? Is such another? etc., .... and then exhibit the true evidences.”
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3. It is a question of much practical importance whether the plan of a discourse ought to include Divisions, and if so, what should be their number, character, order, and general management.
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From these principles and facts, what are we to conclude? Distinctly marked divisions are not necessary, and need not be made where the plan of the discourse can be easily followed without them; only the preacher must remember in judging on this point, that the plan is of course familiar to him, and his hearers may not note transitions which are obvious to his eye, unless attention be somehow called to them. But while not necessary, distinctly marked divisions will usually be of service, not only in making the train of thought plain to the hearers, but also of service to the preacher himself, both as compelling to logical correctness and completeness of preparation, and as helping him to remember, in extemporaneous delivery. In every particular sermon or class of sermons, we must decide the case upon its own merits; but it will commonly be best to make divisions. Whether they shall be slightly or broadly marked, and how carefully the entrance upon a new division should be indicated, must also be decided according to the merits of the case. Where the subject specially requires explanation and argument, it will commonly be advantageous to have clearly stated divisions, and frequently subdivisions also; but these must not be so multiplied, nor so stated, as to prevent the discourse from standing out as a living whole, or to interrupt its progressive movement towards the practical end in view.
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4. The transitions from one part of a discourse to the next are most felicitous when least noticeable. The ideal of excellence would be that the parts should fit perfectly together, “like well-cut stones, needing no cement,” to use Cicero’s image, or that each should grow out of the preceding, by a process of natural development. This ideal can seldom be realized; but in all cases transition will be easy in proportion as the subject proposed has been thoroughly studied, and the thoughts to be presented have been well arranged. No good transition can be made between topics that have not a real and natural relation, such as to make it appropriate that they should stand in immediate succession. When therefore we find the transition difficult, it is well to inquire whether the arrangement is not defective. Often, indeed, the difficulty arises from the fact that we are attempting to work in some idea or passage which has no natural place in the train of thought. Buffon has remarked, “Those who fear to lose isolated thoughts, and who write detached passages at different times, never combine them without forced transitions.” And the difficulty is even greater with scraps gathered from reading. These should be introduced only when they can be thoroughly incorporated into the discourse. Otherwise, no matter how sensible, striking or pleasing, they had better be omitted; if really so good, they will soon find their place somewhere else. A discourse is not a mere conglomeration or accretion of foreign matters. From whatever source its materials may have been derived, they must be made to unite and grow together. Like sap in the plant or blood in the body, the vital current of thought must flow through the whole discourse, giving it animation, flexibility, strength.
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§ 3. Conclusion
Let us lay down the rule, then, that the conclusion should be carefully prepared. If it is to comprise any impassioned personal appeal, we shall often find occasion to modify it in delivery, according to the state of feeling which has then been reached by ourselves and the hearers. But one can usually determine, when preparing, precisely the thoughts with which the sermon ought to conclude, though he may leave the mode of stating them to be controlled by the feelings of the moment. He ought in every case to have ready, and well prepared, something that will make an appropriate and effective conclusion, even though leaving himself free, if the moment should so prompt, to strike in a different direction, or rise to a higher level. Where the subject will naturally lead to passionate exhortation, we can almost always foresee a certain range within which such exhortation must be restricted, if it is to be kept in relation to the subject, and can commonly fix some point beyond, towards which this emotional expatiation shall tend, and where we may close with some comprehensive statement or final appeal. The difficulty thus encountered as to the conclusion is only a higher degree of that which everywhere presents itself in the best forms of speaking, and which we must learn to overcome, viz. how shall we combine the most thorough possible preparation with the largest liberty in delivery?
One element in the conclusion of a sermon will often be recapitulation. If the discourse has consisted chiefly of careful explanation or labored argument, and if it is important that its several divisions should be remembered, and doubtful whether they will be, then the divisions, and occasionally even certain subdivisions, may be distinctly re-stated. But this must be so managed, to use a phrase of Cicero’s, “that the recollection may be revived, not the speech repeated.” Though perhaps anxious at the moment to enlarge anew upon some favorite point, we must confine recapitulation to its proper office. In most sermons, however, we do not care to reproduce the several thoughts and fix them separately in the hearer’s mind, but rather to gather them all together, and concentrate their force upon one final effort of conviction or persuasion. In such cases it is not well to make any formal recapitulation, but in a freer way to recall the train of thought, or the principal points of it, sometimes using very different forms of statement. This appears to be what Vinet would call résumé, as distinct from recapitulation. For properly oratorical purposes, it is commonly much to be preferred. The recapitulation, or the résumé, especially the latter, may sometimes form the entire conclusion; but in most cases it only leads to the conclusion proper. It is often better, particularly where the discourse includes many points, to give some recapitulation before reaching the conclusion, usually when passing to the last division.
The conclusion will, for the most part, consist of application. This term, as we have already seen, is popularly used to embrace a variety of materials, including application proper, suggestions for practical guidance, and persuasive appeal.
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But it is quite wrong to suppose, as some preachers appear to do, that every sermon must end with a very pathetic or overwhelming appeal. It is not unfrequently best to end quietly, yet still so as to impress. And whatever the subject might require, let a man not speak in an emotional manner unless he really feels it. An effort to work oneself up into feeling, because it is desirable at this point, will usually fail; and if it succeeds as to the preacher himself, will be apt to make anything else than a good impression on the hearers. If an impassioned conclusion was prepared, and the speaker now finds that his own feelings and those of the audience have slowly subsided till there is no good prospect of exciting them, let him omit the prepared conclusion, or modify its tone so as to attempt nothing but what can be achieved. Few things are so painful or so injurious as the reaction produced by passionate words which are not felt by the hearers, nor even by the speaker. And let it never be forgotten that we must not aim to excite emotion merely for its own sake, as if that were the end in view, but to make it a means of determining the will and stimulating to corresponding action. Even love to God will not subsist as a mere feeling.
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When the sermon has been one of warning or of invitation, it is sometimes natural and impressive to conclude with something of the opposite tendency. The preacher must judge in every case, whether this combination will deepen the general impression, or whether the two will neutralize each other in the hearer’s mind, and leave him unaffected by either. It may be added that warnings, and all that is alarming in gospel truth, should be uttered not as if we delighted in denunciation, but with especial tenderness, showing that we speak in the faithfulness of love.
The length of the conclusion, like that of the introduction, is dependent on circumstances, and no rule can be laid down. But there is great danger of making it too long, especially in hortatory appeals. The feeling of the speaker inclines him to continue, but the feelings of the hearers cannot be long kept up to a high point. If the sermon has been long, the conclusion should certainly be brief, save in very peculiar cases. Sometimes the close of the last division really brings the whole train of thought to an end, and gives it a practical turn; any separate conclusion is then unnecessary, and commonly undesirable. Sometimes an abrupt conclusion is very effective, when well managed, with good taste and unaffected solemnity. “Excessive length is a common fault of the conclusion of extemporaneous preachers and writers; in fact, of all who do not govern themselves both in the preparation and delivery of sermons by well-defined plans. New thoughts occur to them, and they are hitched on to what has gone before. What is worse, sometimes the preacher becomes conscious that he has failed to accomplish the object of his discourse, or to awaken the degree of interest he ought to have excited, and he struggles on in the vain endeavor to compensate the fault, until at last he is forced to terminate further from his object than when his conclusion began.” Most of all is it unwise to give indication that one is about to conclude, and then start again, or keep dragging on.
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The final words of the conclusion may sometimes consist of a comprehensive and impressive restatement of the subject which has been discussed. “It is very effective when, in our final appeal, we can strongly and vividly reproduce the leading idea of the whole discourse. It has a very great effect upon our hearers, after so many solid proofs and so many skilful strokes of oratory have been devoted to it, to see the great leading truth, the parent idea, appear once more at this crowning moment in all the force of its beautiful simplicity, in all the strength of its unity.” Or the text itself may be the last words. When the discourse has been developed out of the text, and has exhibited all its wealth of meaning, then the emphatic repetition of the text in closing will impressively sum up all that has been said. Or we may end with another passage of Scripture, or with part of a hymn, or with an invocation of the divine blessing. This last is sometimes natural and impressive, but should never become a regular form. Very often, however, the general contents or design of the conclusion will require that we close with some particular thought. The last sentence, of whatever it may consist, ought to be appropriate and impressive, but its style ought not to be elaborate and ambitious. It is a very solemn moment. Do not be thinking of your reputation, good brother, but of your responsibility, and of your hearers’ salvation.
4. Style: Perspicuity and Energy
John A. Broadus, A Treatise on the Preparation and Delivery of Sermons, first edition (Philadelphia, 1870), part III, chapter II, “Perspicuity of Style,” and chapter III, “Energy of Style.” Text of the 1870 first edition (Broadus’s own text). Abridged; omissions are marked […]. Primary source; the interpretations are the author’s.
CTS note: Following the Scottish writers George Campbell and Richard Whately, Broadus names three qualities of style: perspicuity (clearness), energy and elegance. Only the first two are included here. His remarks on Anglo-Saxon and Latin words, on English word order and on the King James Version concern English. Spanish and French readers can apply them to the difference between everyday words and learned ones in their own language. This chapter follows Broadus’s 1870 first edition. Passages found only in the 1898 revision by E. C. Dargan, such as those quoting Genung (1886) and Phelps (1881), are not included. Pages 342–343 are missing from the scanned 1870 copy, so a short passage on the choice of words is also left out.
Part III, Chapter II. Perspicuity of Style
The most important property of style is perspicuity. Style is excellent when, like the atmosphere, it shows the thought, but itself is not seen. Yet this comparison, and the term “perspicuity” which was derived from it, are both inadequate, for good style is like stereoscopic glasses, which, transparent themselves, give form and body and distinct outline to that which they exhibit.
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A preacher is more solemnly bound than any other person, to make his language perspicuous. This is very important in wording a law, in writing a title-deed, or a physician’s prescription, but still more important in proclaiming the Word of God, words of eternal life.
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It is also true that a preacher has greater difficulty than any other class of speakers in making his style perspicuous to all his hearers, for no others speak to so heterogeneous an audience, including persons of both sexes, of every age from early childhood, and of every grade of intellect and culture. But this difficulty, when most deeply felt, should but stimulate to diligent and painstaking effort. For what is the use of preaching, unless we may hope to do good? And what good can be done, save in proportion as we are understood? Pretentious obscurity may excite a poor admiration, unmeaning prettiness may give a certain pleasure, mere vociferation, — like Bottom’s part, “nothing but roaring,” — may affect some people’s nerves, but only truth, and truth that is understood, can bring real benefit. Moreover, something worse may happen than the failure to do good; we may do harm. Some hearers are repelled and disgusted by obscurity. Others are misled. It is a mournful thing to think of, but one of not infrequent occurrence, that men should so misunderstand us, as to take what we meant for medicine and convert it into poison. As we love men’s souls we must strive to prevent so dreadful a result. One cannot expect, as Quintilian already remarks, “that the hearer will be so intent upon understanding as to cast upon the darkness of the speech a light from his own intelligence. What we say must be made so clear that it will pour into his mind as the sun pours into the eyes, even when they are not directed toward it. We must take care, not that it shall be possible for him to understand, but that it shall be utterly impossible for him not to understand.” The German philosopher Fichte wrote a treatise with this title; “An account clear as the sun, of the real nature of my philosophy; an attempt to compel the reader to understand.” None but a very self-confident man would put forth such a title; but it indicates what every teacher of men ought to aim at, not arrogantly, but resolutely, — to compel the reader or hearer to understand.
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It is often remarked that Anglo-Saxon words are generally more perspicuous to the people at large, than words of Latin origin. The latter are frequently more precise, being restricted in usage to a certain specific sense, while the Anglo-Saxon word is the general term. Thus the phrase, perspicuity of style, is a more precise expression than plainness or clearness of style, and is therefore preferable in a treatise, or in conversation with a cultivated person. But in speaking to a general audience it would be better to use the term plainness, notwithstanding its ambiguity, because the people so much more readily and vividly see its meaning. And if there should be danger of their confusing the two senses, of plainness as opposed to obscurity, and plainness as opposed to ornament, we may guard against this by adding some other simple phrase which will show what is meant. In general, the Anglo-Saxon element of our language deserves great attention, for its terms are not only perspicuous to all, but are apt to be singularly suggestive, through life-long association of ideas; besides the bulk of meaning contained, they carry with them an atmosphere of suggestion, often surpassingly attractive and stimulating. Those who have studied Latin and French ought to study Anglo-Saxon also; and whether a student of language or not, every preacher should practically master the homely, “household words” of our own English. Let it not be taken for granted that we know these already; for the discriminating use of them is by no means universal, even among educated men.
(2.) We must use words and phrases that exactly express our thought. Terms may be intelligible to the audience, and yet not certainly represent to them our meaning. They may be ambiguous, so that while the hearer understands both senses, he does not readily see which is here intended. Even the sacred writers, employing an easy, colloquial style, have sometimes left us ambiguous expressions. For example, the love of God, in Greek as in English, may denote our love to God, or his love to us. Which it means in any case must be determined from the connection, or perhaps from the usage of the writer. John uses it in both senses, Paul almost invariably in the latter. A style absolutely free from such ambiguities would not be natural, and yet they ought of course to be avoided as far as possible. Or, terms may be used in different senses in the same connection, and thus, although not in themselves ambiguous, may leave the meaning doubtful. Or they may be general terms, and fail to indicate what specific idea was meant. Or they may be indefinite, and leave it uncertain what extent of meaning was designed. In general, the terms ought to be precise, as it were cut down to fit the meaning, so that the expression and the idea exactly correspond, neither of them containing anything which the other does not contain. Such terms may almost always be found, and we should habitually constrain ourselves to seek for them. Besides the advantage of perspicuity to others, this habit will greatly benefit our own minds, for our thoughts attain a definite form and distinct outlines only in proportion as we find the precise terms to express them. It will also give freshness. No two men think exactly alike, even as all countenances are different; and he who thinks at all upon a subject, and then says just what he thinks, cannot fail of being to some extent original.
One important means of securing precision, is accurate discrimination between so-called synonymes. Even the English language, which in so many cases retains both an Anglo-Saxon and a Latin word of much the same original meaning, has, strictly speaking, no synonymes. Our usage has assigned to the words different departments of the field once common to both, or at least a different extent of application. The more cultivated a language becomes, as De Quincey has remarked, the more it distinguishes between apparent synonymes. To take a familiar example, the Greek word sympathy, the Latin compassion, and the compound of Anglo-Saxon, fellow-feeling, are in origin substantially the same; but how distinct they now are as English words. Yet there are very many cases in which different words will coincide, to a greater or less extent, so that the careless observer would regard them as in all respects equivalent, and between these it is highly important to discriminate. Our own language, for the reason just indicated, greatly abounds in these synonymes, and the preacher cannot be too earnestly urged to give them his constant and pains-taking attention.
Skill in the choice of terms comes to no man as a matter of course. All who succeed in this respect, however gifted or however unlettered, have attained it by observation, reflection, practice. He who thinks words unimportant, will never be perspicuous in expression, nor clear in thinking.
2. Perspicuity also depends on the construction of sentences and paragraphs. This important subject will not here be discussed at length, because it requires to be illustrated by numerous examples, and can be thoroughly mastered only by means of written exercises.
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In unwritten composition, or what is called extemporaneous speaking, it is practically better, though amounting to the same thing, to fix the mind on points, rather than on paragraphs. Do not be thinking how you would distribute this on pages if you were writing, but arrange a succession of points to be treated. Then taking up each of these in order, remember the homely saying, and “stick to your point.” One may thus gain the unity and consecutiveness which belong to a written paragraph. Yet there is probably no one particular in which a speaker so much needs the discipline of written composition, as in respect to this matter of consecutiveness in developing a single thought. A man who never writes anything may sometimes learn to frame sentences well, and to arrange discourses well. He may have distinct points, corresponding to paragraphs, and each constituting a unit. But to develop these points in an orderly manner, so that each sentence may grow out of the preceding, or have a well-indicated connection with it, so that the developed unit may become a structure, an harmonious organization, this is what few men learn to achieve without practice in writing paragraphs. Nor does the hurried writing so common among those who read sermons, at all mend the matter.
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3. Perspicuity depends not only on the choice of terms, and the proper construction of sentences and paragraphs, but also on the general brevity or diffuseness of the style.
It is a mistake to suppose that the briefest statement of an idea is sure to be the clearest. If it be really made clear to the person addressed, then of course the briefer the better. But “extreme conciseness is ill-suited to hearers or readers whose intellectual powers and cultivation are but small It is remarked by anatomists, that the nutritive quality is not the only requisite in food; — that a certain degree of distention of the stomach is required, to enable it to act with its full powers; — and that it is for this reason hay or straw must be given to horses, as well as corn, in order to supply the necessary bulk. Something analogous to this takes place with respect to the generality of minds; which are incapable of thoroughly digesting and assimilating what is presented to them, however clearly, in a very small compass It is necessary that the attention should be detained for a certain time on the subject: and persons of unphilosophical mind, though they can attend to what they read or hear, are unapt to dwell upon it in the way of subsequent meditation.”
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Prolixity, then, is worse than extreme conciseness. The latter, though imperfectly understood, may stimulate attention and reflection, and lead to subsequent examination of the subject. The former does but weary and disgust. It must be granted that prolixity is very common in the pulpit. Preachers often have to prepare and preach when their minds are not in a creative mood. It seems their duty to say something, and custom requires that, however unfruitful the subject and however unfavorable their own state of mind, they shall continue for at least a certain number of minutes. Under such circumstances a man’s ideas are not clear, and in the feeble struggle to express them, he inevitably becomes prolix.
There are several means by which we may avoid too great conciseness without falling into prolixity. One of these is repetition. In some cases it is well to repeat the statement, in the same words. More commonly, we may “repeat the same sentiment and argument in many different forms of expression; each in itself brief, but all together affording such an expansion of the sense to be conveyed, and so detaining the mind upon it, as the sense may require.” This repetition must of course not be a mere tautology. The thought must be presented in some other view or some new relation. “What has been expressed in appropriate terms may be repeated in metaphorical; the antecedent and consequent of an argument, or the parts of an antithesis may be transposed; or several different points that have been enumerated, presented in a varied order, &c.” Another means is by varied illustration. After stating the thought as clearly as can be done within a moderate compass, we may present various illustrations of it, or of its different aspects. These interest the hearer, and detain his attention on the matter in hand, until he becomes perfectly familiar with it, and yet not weary of it. There is no more remarkable example of this than Chalmers. His sermons often consist of a single idea, which is held up in different lights, turned over and over, and round and round, until we have seen every facet it possesses; and yet each of these aspects is made so bright with fresh illustration, so brilliant with hues of fancy, that we cannot grow weary. In this, as in some other respects, Chalmers is one of the worst models to be imitated, but one of the most profitable examples to be studied. And a third means of gaining the requisite expansion without prolixity, is division. The matter presented, however minute, may often be divided into several points, just as we divide larger topics; and these points being successively stated, the whole is clearly seen.
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In conclusion, let us remember that efforts to be perspicuous may be carried too far. It is wretchedly tiresome to hear a man carefully explaining what every one present understands beforehand, or continuing to repeat and open and illustrate what he has already made sufficiently plain. And the oratorical diffuseness just spoken of,, is a very different thing from that torrent of useless words which we are so often compelled to endure.
Part III, Chapter III. Energy of Style
The term energy, as applied to style, includes all that we mean by such separate terms as animation, force, and passion. Animation, or liveliness, serves to stimulate attention; it is not enough for a speaker to say what the hearer may understand if he attends; the point is to arouse him, to put life into him, to make attention easy and pleasant, and inattention difficult. For this the freshness of the thought, and the magnetic power of delivery are the chief agents; but much may also be accomplished by animation of style. The term, force is used especially with reference to arguments, and the kindred word power is applied both to arguments and to motives. Passion — which in its milder and more tender forms we call pathos, and in its highest form the sublime — has its effect upon the feelings, often by means of the imagination; and both force and passion aim at last to influence the will. It is thus plain, according to the view we have taken of eloquence, that the characteristic property of an eloquent style is energy. Perspicuity it needs in common with the philosophical or didactic style; elegance it may possess in common with the poetic style; but energy, i. e. animation, force or passion, is its characteristic.
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The next requisite is something to say, and something regarded as exceedingly important. The mind must be full of thought, if there is to be forcible expression. That which is said must be what the speaker heartily believes to be true, deeply feels to be important, and earnestly desires to impress upon others. The preacher has peculiar advantages in respect of materials conducive to energy, if he has a familiar, profound, and ever-freshened acquaintance with the Bible. No temporal interests are so momentous as those of eternity. No other topics can impart to the mind such vigor and authority as truths which we personally know to be taught in God’s Word. “A truly mighty sacred orator is ‘mighty in the Scriptures.’”
Energy of style must be considered under four heads; the choice of terms, the construction of sentences, conciseness, and the use of figures.
1. As to the choice of terms, one point is, that so far as the subject may admit we should prefer concrete to abstract terms, and particular or specific to general terms. In philosophical discussion, or in comprehensive statements, there is of course need for abstract or for general terms, but these are very unfavorable to energy of style. “The more general the terms are, the picture is the fainter; the more special they are, it is the brighter. The same sentiments may be expressed with equal justness, and even perspicuity, in the former way as in the latter; but as the coloring will in that case be more languid, it cannot give equal pleasure to the fancy, and by consequence will not contribute so much either to fix the attention or to impress the memory.” Campbell proceeds to illustrate this by striking examples from Scripture.
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2. Much depends, as to energy, upon the construction of sentences. The periodic structure of sentences requires special attention. The word “period” signifies a going round, a circuit, revolution, etc., and strictly speaking, a sentence would be called a period when it returns at the close to the matter with which it began. It was very common in Greek and Latin, particularly the latter, to begin with a noun in the nominative case, then make a long sentence, consisting first of adjuncts to the noun and afterwards of adjuncts to the verb, and as the closing word to give the verb. This would be strictly a period; the sentence circles round, and the last word is in close grammatical connection with the first. In English we seldom give precisely this form to long sentences, except in the inverted style of blank verse.
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The most prominent position in a sentence is the beginning, and next to this, the end. If now a word which, according to the common grammatical order, would come elsewhere, be placed at the beginning or the end, it will attract special attention; it will become one of the important, the emphatic words of the sentence. And in general, to put a word out of its ordinary place, will cause it to be specially noticed. Such inversions of order, by giving particular prominence to the most important word or clause, will often render a sentence far more energetic. Compare “Great is Diana of the Ephesians,” and “Diana of the Ephesians is great.” In the saying of Peter, “Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have, give I thee,” take the common grammatical order, “I have no gold and silver,” etc., and how feeble! Observe too, that here our version increases the energy by separating the adjective none from its substantives, and putting it at the end of the clause, the other most emphatic position. And not only may the predicate thus come first, for emphasis, but many other inversions are possible. “Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven.” “Now is the accepted time.”
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Antithesis often adds greatly to energy. E. g. “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” “Thou art anxious and troubled about many things: but one thing is needful.” “The memory of the just is blessed: but the name of the wicked shall rot.” Such antithetical expressions abound in the Proverbs of Solomon, as they do in the uninspired proverbs of all nations, their terseness and force contributing to give them popularity. How vigorous is the saying quoted by Quintilian: “I do not live to eat, I eat to live.” In all such cases, each of the two contrasted clauses throws light upon the other, so that, without losing perspicuity the expressions may be made very brief, and thus more pointed and forcible; while at the same time the contrast makes the whole statement more striking. So much does antithesis contribute to energy and brilliancy of style, that many writers and speakers employ it in great excess. This disfigures the style of Macaulay, which is in many respects so admirable. In preaching, a manifest, and especially a frequent effort to strike, is particularly unbecoming. And besides the violation of taste in the excessive use of antithesis, there is danger, in any single case, of violating truth. In order strikingly to contrast two things, we may unconsciously exaggerate the difference. Thus Lord Bacon, who was very fond of antitheses, and has left a remarkable collection of them, says in the Essay on Adversity, that “prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament, adversity is the blessing of the New.” But the real difference in this respect between the two Testaments is relative, and not absolute. The Old Testament repeatedly teaches the blessing of adversity, the New several times promises temporal prosperity. The former speaks mainly of prosperity, the latter mainly of adversity. But this difference in degree, Bacon converts, for the sake of his antithesis, into a difference in kind. The danger of such exaggeration is very great, and it is a sad thing to gain force at the expense of truth.
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3. Energy is greatly promoted by Conciseness. “It may be established as a maxim that admits no exception, that the fewer the words are, provided neither propriety nor perspicuity be violated, the expression is always the more vivid. ‘Brevity,’ says Shakspeare, ‘is the soul of wit.’ Thus much is certain, that of whatever kind the sentiment be, witty, humorous, grave, animated, or sublime, the more briefly it is expressed, the energy is the greater, or the sentiment is the more enlivened As when the rays of the sun are collected into the focus of a burning-glass, the smaller the spot is which receives them, compared with the surface of the glass, the greater is the splendor; .... so, in exhibiting our sentiments by speech, the narrower the compass of words is wherein the thought is expressed, the more energetic is the expression The very same sentiment, expressed diffusely, will be admitted barely to be just; expressed concisely, it will be admired as spirited.” There is no more remarkable example of energetic conciseness than the famous saying of Caesar, Veni, vidi, vici, “I came, saw, conquered.” The studied brevity of Lacedaemonian speech has given us the word laconic. The orators among the American Indians have often been remarkable for brief, pithy, pointed sayings. All men, cultivated and uncultivated, appreciate brevity.
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The great majority of young speakers and writers need with especial care to cultivate conciseness. Most of those who feel moved to write or speak are naturally fluent. They find volubility and verbosity to be easy to themselves, and acceptable to many of their hearers. An excessive luxuriance of style is much more promising than extreme barrenness; but, as Cicero remarked, it needs, like an overgrowth of grain in spring, to be pastured down with the pen. The task often requires rigorous self-control. The lad who is thinning corn longs to leave three stalks yonder in one hill, because they all seem so large and fine. But he must remember. Three will make no more than two; nay, will make less. Some persons, on the other hand, should stimulate themselves to greater fertility in respect to style, which may be effected by improving the imagination, by familiarity with good writers whose style tends to luxuriance, and by endeavoring to speak and write under the influence of a more stirring passion, or a more tender sentiment.
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4. Perhaps the chief element of energy in style is the use of figures of speech. Passionate feeling, whether anger, fear, love, or the emotion of the sublime, naturally expresses itself by means of bold imagery, — bold, though never elaborate or far-fetched.
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Metaphor is more conducive to energy than comparison. The latter is useful in order to perspicuity or to elegance, but is apt to be avoided in impassioned or otherwise energetic discourse. It has been often remarked that in Demosthenes’ great oration on the Crown, where he had so much at stake, and speaks with such directness and force and vehemence, there is but a single comparison, and that couched in two words. Yet comparisons may sometimes, from the nature of the subject-matter, be exceedingly impressive. “His eyes were as a flame of fire, and his voice as the sound of many waters.” “As the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto the west, so shall the coming of the Son of man be.” “The ungodly .... are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.”
The metaphor assumes or implies a resemblance or an analogy, without stating it as in the comparison, and is thus more condensed and terse. Where a metaphor would not be readily intelligible, it may be combined with a comparison, or made plain by some additional term. A great multitude of metaphors have become so familiar, that they no longer possess any special force; but in the many that never wear out, and in the unlimited range of new invention and combination, metaphors present to the orator an inexhaustible source of energetic expression. It is imagination that must produce them, and good taste that must regulate their use. Inexperienced speakers often employ metaphors that are incongruous in themselves, or carried out into ridiculous or wearisome detail. But much will depend on subject, occasion and feeling. Even Shakspeare’s often condemned example of a mixed metaphor, “To take arms against a sea of troubles,” is allowable and natural in Hamlet, when frenzied and meditating suicide, and speaking to himself alone.
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Hyperbole, or saying more than is meant, is very natural to a person so absorbed in the contemplation of a particular object or subject as to exaggerate its comparative importance, or to one so intensely excited that all ordinary expression seems to him tame. It is also allowable in any case where one knows that the exaggerated language need not be misunderstood, and desires to make a deep impression as to an important fact. “And there are also many other things which Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written.” (John 21:25.) Such expressions are particularly natural to the fervid Oriental mind, and they have great power with the masses of men. The Apostle Paul is remarkable for hyperboles, and for strong language of every kind. His impassioned expression, “I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren” (Rom. 9:3), is best understood as an instance of hyperbolical language, and can be appreciated only in proportion as we sympathize with his patriotic and pious ardor and devotion. Our Lord’s teaching has a singular and very striking peculiarity in the use of extreme cases to set forth a principle. “Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.” When he himself was smitten on the cheek, we do not read that he turned the other. It was an extreme, hyperbolical way of stating the injunction not to strike back; and though sometimes misunderstood and misrepresented, the statement is one which no man ever forgets. (Matt. 6:3; Luke 14:26.) As a teacher of men, our Lord used a great variety of expedients for stimulating their languid attention, for compelling them to remember and reflect. Many a phrase of his fails to be understood unless we bear this in mind, and his example shows that such efforts may be made in a spirit and tone wholly unlike that of “sensation” preachers.
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Interrogation is with all orators a frequent means of giving animation to discourse. Not only may an antagonist, real or imaginary, be questioned, in such a manner as to awaken lively interest on the part of the hearers, but questions are constantly addressed to the hearers themselves. Their minds are thus aroused somewhat as if called on actually to answer. It should be observed that one is liable sometimes to fall as it were into an interrogative mood, and throw so much of his discourse into the form of questions, as to produce the most disagreeable species of monotony. It is important to be on our guard against this, and when upon any occasion conscious of it, to break away by a resolute effort.
As to the whole matter of energy of style, grave mistakes are often committed. Some speakers imagine that they must be energetic in style and manner even when it does not suit the subject, or does not accord with their actual feelings. Now it is only strong feeling that prompts impassioned or in any wise energetic expression. To gain the latter we must cultivate our sensibilities, and must keep the mind in contact with the subject to be treated until the corresponding emotions are excited. If little or no emotion really exists, the language of passion produces no effect, or even a contrary effect to that desired. It is one of the most important lessons a preacher can learn, not to assume earnestness of style or delivery, when he has not earnestness of feeling.
Another serious and very common mistake is in the effort to maintain uniform energy throughout a discourse. “An author should guard against the vain ambition of expressing everything in an equally high-wrought, brilliant, and forcible style. The neglect of this caution often occasions the imitation of the best models to prove detrimental. When the admiration of some fine and animated passages leads a young writer to take these passages for his general model, and to endeavor to make every sentence he composes equally fine, he will, on the contrary, give a flatness to the whole, and destroy the effect of those portions which would have been forcible if they had been allowed to stand prominent. To brighten the dark parts of a picture, produces much the same result as if one had darkened the bright parts; in either case there is a want of relief and contrast; and Composition, as well as Painting, has its lights and shades, which must be distributed with no less skill, if we would produce the desired effect.”
In highly passionate speaking there must be variety, alternation. In any intense physical exertion, one needs frequent change of posture, so as to bring different muscles into play, and let them relieve each other. The same thing is true as to mental excitement. Neither the hearers, nor even the speaker himself, can keep up a very high excitement for more than a brief period, certainly not in a natural and healthy way. Now the most complete alternation here would be from pathos or passion to humor. The humorous writers and speakers almost always introduce pathetic passages merely for relief, and vice versa the principle applies equally well. But the preacher cannot relieve the minds of his hearers by any but rare and delicate touches of humor. He may, however, again and again descend from the impassioned to the quiet and easy, may cause passion to swell by successive waves, receding in order to advance farther; and he must in other ways vary the emotions excited, just so far as will be compatible with his specific design.
And great mistakes are also made as to what constitutes energy of style. There is a jerky, convulsive energy, like that of Carlyle, which is by no means worthy of imitation. There is an over-wrought, exaggerated energy, which Longinus describes as “not sublime, but sky-scraping,” and a turgid, inflated, would-be energy, which is nothing but bombast. And in this stirring age, especially among our American people, there is a tendency to be prodigiously excited upon small occasion, to use superlatives, exaggerated epithets, and impassioned imagery, where they are unnecessary, and therefore inappropriate.
5. Delivery and the Conduct of Public Worship
John A. Broadus, A Treatise on the Preparation and Delivery of Sermons, first edition (Philadelphia, 1870), part IV, chapter I, “The Three Methods of Preparation and Delivery,” §§ 3 and 5, and part V, “Conduct of Public Worship,” §§ 1–6. Text of the 1870 first edition (Broadus’s own text). Abridged; omissions are marked […]. Primary source; the interpretations are the author’s.
CTS note: “Extemporaneous” preaching here means preaching without reading or memorizing a manuscript, after the thought has been fully prepared. It does not mean preaching without preparation. Broadus describes the worship of nineteenth-century American Baptist, Methodist and Presbyterian churches and contrasts it with the Episcopal liturgy. Congregations today can adapt his advice on hymns, choirs and the order of the service. This chapter follows Broadus’s 1870 first edition, where free speaking is § 3 of part IV, chapter I. Passages found only in the 1898 revision by E. C. Dargan, such as those quoting W. M. Taylor and Macaulay’s letters (published 1876), are not included.
Part IV, Chapter I. The Three Methods of Preparation and Delivery
Reading, reciting, extemporaneous speaking, — which is the best method of preaching? Though so often discussed, this question constantly recurs, not merely for the young preachers whom every year brings forward, but for many of maturer age, who are not satisfied that they have been pursuing the wisest course. It is a question affecting not only one’s manner of delivery, but his whole method of preparation, and in fact all his habits of thought and expression. While not so indispensable a condition of usefulness as that a man shall hold the truth, or that he shall love his work, or that he shall be a born speaker, it is surely a matter of very great importance to one whose best energies through life are devoted to preaching, that he should study and speak in the most effective way.
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§ 3. Extemporaneous Speaking
The technical meaning of this expression requires to be defined. Primarily, of course, it denotes speaking without preparation, simply from the promptings of the moment. The colloquial expression for this is speaking “off hand,” the image being that of shooting without a rest; and the Germans have a corresponding phrase, speaking “from the stirrup,” as when one shoots on horseback, without dismounting. This popular phraseology is suggestive. By a natural extension, the phrase extemporaneous speaking is applied to cases in which there has been preparation of the thought, however thorough, but the language is left to be suggested at the moment. Still further, when notes are made, as a help to preparation, when the plan of the discourse is drawn out on paper, and all the principal points are stated or suggested, we call it extemporaneous speaking, because all this is regarded only as a means of arranging and recalling the thoughts, and the language is extemporized. If one to any great extent relies on these notes for his language, then it is so far a recitation, where the notes are left at home, and reading, where they are kept before him in the pulpit; as a general thing, however, this is not true, and preaching from notes is fairly called extemporaneous. And one step further we go, when, as already stated, we insist that free speaking, after the discourse has been written in full as preparation, but without any effort to repeat the language of the manuscript, shall be called extemporaneous speaking. We think it has been satisfactorily shown that this last extension of the phrase is proper and necessary. And if so, then many eminent men, for example, Whitfield, who have usually been spoken of as reciting, were really, in part or in whole, extemporaneous preachers.
No intelligent man would now propose that preachers should habitually speak extempore, as regards the matter. It is true that occasions not unfrequently arise which make it important that they should be able to speak without any special immediate preparation; but this will be done most fitly and effectively by those whose habit it is to do otherwise. In truth, the fanatical or slothful men who say that they never make any preparation, deceive themselves. Most of what they say has been prepared by saying it many times before, and its substance was originally borrowed, whether from books, or from the preaching of others and from conversation. Except as to single thoughts suggested at the moment, their minds are led by association of ideas, even though it be unconsciously, into what they have previously worked out. Really to extemporize the matter of preaching is as impracticable as it is improper. And it is utterly unfair to represent the advocates of extemporaneous preaching as meaning that men shall preach without preparation.
In presenting the advantages and disadvantages of this method, there must be some repetition of ideas already advanced. This is obviously necessary to completeness, and such matters will now be regarded from a different point of view.
1. Consider then, the advantages.
(1.) As regards preparation, this method accustoms one to think more rapidly, and with less dependence on external helps, than if he habitually wrote in full.
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(5.) And, as we have before seen, there is a more important gain than the new thoughts elicited. The whole mass of prepared material becomes brightened, warmed, sometimes transfigured, by this inspiration of delivery. The preacher’s language rises, without conscious effort, to suit the heightened grandeur and beauty of his conceptions; and, as Everett has expressed it in speaking of Webster, “the discourse instinctively transposes itself into a higher key.” This exaltation of soul, rising at times to rapture, can never be fitly described; but the speaker who does not in some measure know what it means, was not born to be a speaker. And great stress should be laid upon the fact that besides the thoughts which then first occur to the mind, — a matter constantly remarked, — there is this effect of far greater importance produced by delivery, in changing the form and color, and incalculably augmenting the power of the thoughts previously prepared.
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(7.) And here let it be asked, What of dependence upon the Holy Spirit, and prayer for his help in preaching? How can a man pray that God will guide him through a forest, when he has already blazed the entire path, and committed himself to follow it? Of course one should seek help in preparing his discourse, and if he reads, should pray that he might be enabled to feel aright in reading. But how much more natural is such prayer, how much more real the dependence upon Divine assistance, how much freer the opening for the Spirit really to help, if the sermon is not already cast in moulds, but the material which has been gathered, is now molten in the mind, and the ultimate process remains to be performed.
(8.) As to the delivery itself, it is only in extemporaneous speaking, of one or another variety, that this can ever be perfectly natural, and achieve the highest effect. The ideal of speaking, it has been justly said, cannot be reached in any other way. Only thus will the voice, the action, the eye, be just what nature dictates, and attain their full power. And while painstaking culture vainly strives to read or recite precisely like speaking, the extemporaneous speaker may with comparative ease, rise to the best delivery of which he is capable. In this way, too, as before remarked, we most readily gain the sympathy of our hearers; they are sympathizing with a man, not a composition,— a man all alive with thoughts he is now thinking, and fervors he is now feeling, and not simply reviving, as far as possible, the thought and feeling of some former time.
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2. But we must turn to the disadvantages of extemporaneous speaking, some of which require not only careful consideration in argument, but very watchful attention in practice.
(1.) Perhaps the gravest of them all consists in the tendency to neglect of preparation, after one has gained facility in unaided thinking and extemporized expression. Men are prone to abuse all their privileges; but it is a superficial philosophy which thence concludes that privileges should be avoided. And if many extemporizers grow indolent, and rely too much upon the suggestions of the moment, at least they must at the moment have some mental activity; whereas the same indolent men, if accustomed to read or recite, would repeat sermons long ago prepared, with their minds no longer active, nor their hearts truly warm. This tendency to neglect of preparation is real and powerful, but it may be resisted, and many extemporizers do resist it, continuing through life to prepare their sermons with care; and as just intimated, it is only many readers, and by no means all, that do likewise.
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Let it now be carefully observed that all the disadvantages of extemporaneous speaking are such as can be completely obviated by resolute and judicious effort, while reading and recitation have many inherent disadvantages, which may, of course, be more or less diminished, but can never be removed. Let this be noticed. The born speaker will be able to overcome the difficulties of extemporaneous speaking, and will find here, and here alone, free play for his powers. We are not referring to the few great orators, but to all who have really a native talent for speaking, including some in whom this long remains undeveloped, through lack of exercise or wrong methods. Some men, not born speakers, but anxious to do good, and zealous pastors, may be able to write and read tolerably instructive and acceptable discourses, while they could never preach extemporaneously. But certainly what is best for them, is not thereby shown to be best in general. Methods of speaking ought to be chosen according to the wants and the powers of those who have some gift as speakers. Very few, if any others, ought to make speaking their business.
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§ 5. General and Special Preparation for Extemporaneous Preaching
The preacher should be careful of his health, not only on other accounts, but because speaking, real speaking, demands a high degree of nervous energy and power of endurance. Many a noble sermon is spoiled by the fact that the preacher begins to flag physically toward the close, and can neither feel high-wrought emotion, nor speak with passion and power.
He should cultivate accuracy and rapidity of thinking, and should discipline himself to pursue trains of thought without interruption, and as far as possible without dependence on outward helps. He must get his knowledge of Scripture, and all his knowledge (as far as may be) at his tongue’s end. The habit of keeping one’s knowledge fit for service, so that he can at once state what he knows or thinks on subjects he has studied, will preserve from the danger of breaking down, and will enable him to prepare sermons with equal thoroughness in a shorter time.
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The extemporaneous preacher must carefully arrange his sermon, according to the natural order of the thoughts, and then he will have no difficulty in remembering. The sermon must not wander at will over the subject, but have its distinct and well-marked points, and advance steadily from one to another. In both these respects, what helps him will also greatly help the hearer. Whether it has any formal division or not, a popular address should always have points. And it is one advantage of extemporaneous speaking, that it compels to such an arrangement. If now one has stretching before him a well-defined track of thought, divided by natural landmarks into distinct sections, he can diverge from it upon occasion and return without difficulty.
If a preacher makes notes in preparing, as it is usually best to do, he ought, in general, not to carry them into the pulpit. Particular subjects or modes of treatment will sometimes make this desirable. But in general, one should take time enough beforehand to get the matter of the sermon in solution in his mind, so that it can flow freely; or, to resume the other figure, to get the track he is to follow so clear to his mental vision, that he can flash a single glance from beginning to end of it. This is not memorizing words, and with a little practice it can be quickly done. In other respects, too, great benefit will be derived from this necessity of going thoroughly over the prepared matter shortly before preaching, for thus the mind and heart become kindled, and brought into sympathy with the particular subject to be treated. Sometimes the very words ought to be fixed beforehand. This applies generally to definitions, frequently to transitions, and sometimes to images, such as must be presented with precision and elegance, or they will be worse than nothing. Such preparation of particular sentences may be made in writing and memorized, or may be altogether mental. The advice is often given, to memorize the introduction, and extemporize the language of the remainder of the discourse. This is of questionable propriety. It gives a formal air at the outset, and is apt to make the transition precipitous. Passages of Scripture which are to be quoted, or other proposed quotations, should be gone over in the mind during the immediate preparation, that there may be no blundering or hesitation.
We now see how the inexperienced young preacher may speak extemporaneously without any great danger of utter failure. Let him arrange the discourse with great care, and again and again think through the whole, making no effort to retain the words he lights upon (save as to definitions, etc.), but getting the thoughts, and their succession, perfectly familiar. Speaking it over in his room or in the forest is not wrong, and some find it in their early preparations very useful. Then let him pray for help, and go forward, — he can remember better than he supposes, — and facility will rapidly increase.
In familiar conversation with such a young brother, one might add such hints as the following, with reference to the actual preaching. If you forget what you meant to say next, do not stop. Nothing is so awkward as a dead pause; and the awkwardness increases in geometrical ratio to the seconds of time. Say something, repeat, recapitulate, talk at random even, — anything rather than stop. If you become embarrassed with a tangled sentence, do not turn back, but burst through. If you have made a mistake of grammar, pronunciation; or the like, do not stop to correct it, unless it is serious. An occasional inadvertence is readily pardoned, if the general style be good. And if you greatly blunder in style, forget half your best thoughts, or utterly break down, it will not kill you. Other great men have failed. Remember young Robert Hall.
Public speaking is one of the noblest exercises of the human powers; preaching is its highest form; and if extemporaneous speaking be the best method of preaching, it is surely worth labor to attain excellence in this, — diligent and faithful self-cultivation, resolute determination always to do our best, as long as we live.
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Part V. Conduct of Public Worship
A tendency may often be observed in our religious assemblies to neglect the worship, and think only of the preaching. Indeed, we frequently hear good men speak of the preliminary exercises. The devout reading of God’s Word, sweet hymns of praise, and “prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving” — these, we must understand, are of no great importance, only the porch, the threshold! Straws show which way the wind blows, and the very form of public notices is here instructive. “Divine service will be held at St. Mark’s Church, on next,” etc. “The Rev. will preach at the Baptist (Presbyterian, Methodist, etc.) Church, on next,” etc. The Episcopal notice mentions only the service. The others mention only the preaching, and rarely fail to say who is to preach. Accordingly, Highchurchmen usually care little for the sermon, being mainly concerned that it should be suitably short; though evangelical Episcopalians lay much greater stress on preaching, and are often anxious for some liberty of omission in the service. The other denominations mentioned, too generally think little of the service, the worship. Some persons among them, dissatisfied with the felt lack of interest, imagine that there is no remedy save in having a “form of worship,” or some approach to it; and accordingly one meets now and then with a Sunday-school or congregation reading alternate verses, or engaged in choral responses, etc., — some “entering wedge” for other things.
But the remedy lies elsewhere. The freedom, spontaneity, simplicity, spirituality, of New Testament worship must be maintained at all costs. The natural tendency of the human heart to make much of externals while devoid of spirituality, must by all means be resisted. So far as it is lack of devotional feeling on their part that makes men weary of informal modes of worship, so far we must beware of yielding. But the dissatisfaction is often caused, at least in part, by the coldness, lack of animation, want of connection, and general slovenliness which in so many cases mark our worship. We must pay far more attention to this than is common, both in the way of general cultivation and of preparation for each particular occasion. This is less necessary for those who have only to go through a form of service prepared by others, than for him who, on every separate occasion, is required to produce a service, for himself and for the congregation. Thoroughly simple in form, so as not to encourage the people to rest in externals, but full of interest, animation, devoutness, solemn sweetness, and with a specific but inelaborate adaptation to the occasion, — such should be our worship. That which is not interesting and impressive cannot be the full expression of warm devotion, and then the expression, by a general law, reacts upon the feeling. Externals, however they may appeal to aesthetic sentiment, can never create devotion; but animated and earnest expression will strengthen devotion, and this may be achieved while carefully avoiding the danger of formalism.
It is therefore deemed important to speak of the preacher’s part in the conduct of public worship. This can only be done very briefly here, though the subject deserves minute discussion, and, in fact, a separate treatise.
§ 1. Reading Scripture
1. In selecting the portion or portions of Scripture to be read, we should prefer such as are in a high degree devotional; e. g. many of the Psalms, passages from Isaiah and other Prophets, from the Gospels, Epistles, and Revelation. These will not only instruct, but will awaken devout feeling. The reading of them will naturally precede the principal prayer, whether immediately, or with the intervention of a hymn. The particular kind of devotional passages selected, and the general tone of the sermon, should harmonize. To read a mournful passage, and afterward preach a joyful sermon, or vice versa, would be inappropriate. Still, a general harmony is sufficient; great effort to find an exact correspondence is unnecessary, if not unbecoming.
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It is particularly important that the Scriptures should be well read. A comparatively small, and rapidly diminishing number of persons in our congregations are now necessarily dependent on public reading for their entire knowledge of Scripture, as was so common at first, when it was said, “Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear, the words of this prophecy.” But as a matter of fact, many persons do not read the Bible themselves, and their minds are brought in direct contact with it only by the public reading. On the other hand, those who read the Bible most at home, are often most pleased to hear it read in public worship. And in general, whatever reasons there are for reading anything well, apply pre-eminently to the book of all books, the Word of God. Good reading has an exegetical value, helping to make plain the sense. It also brings out the full interest, and impressiveness, of the passage read. There are passages which have had a new meaning for us, and an added sweetness, ever since we once heard them read, it may be long ago, by a good reader.
But to read the Bible really well, is a difficult task. The common mode of printing the verses, often seriously obscures the connection. The proper names require attention, that we may pronounce them readily, correctly, and yet without pedantry. Far more important is the lack of full intellectual and spiritual sympathy with Scripture, which so often prevents our entering fully into the sense. There is a common tendency to be subdued by mistaken reverence into a uniform tone, devoid of real expression. The Bible should never be read precisely as we read other books. It is all sacred, and in reading even its less strikingly devotional parts there should be a prevailing solemnity; but this solemnity does not forbid a rich variety of expression, as many readers appear to imagine.
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One ought never to read a passage in public worship, without being thoroughly acquainted with it, and this will usually require that it be carefully gone over but a short time before.
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§ 2. Hymns
1. It is strange that some ministers should care so little for the proper selection of hymns. They surely do not consider the blessed power of sacred song, nor the fact that inappropriate and unimpressive hymns not only fail of doing good, but are positively chilling and painful. Some take their hymns at the first opening of the book, with no care to make them suit the general tone of the service. Others are solicitous that every hymn shall be upon precisely the subject discussed in the sermon, forgetting that hymns are designed not for instruction, but to express and quicken devotional feeling.
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It is better that the first hymn sung should not relate to the precise subject of the sermon, but be emphatically a hymn of worship. Especially when the sermon is to the unconverted, must it be out of place to begin the solemn worship of God by a mere metrical exhortation to impenitent men. Of course this opening hymn, as well as every other part of the worship, should have a general harmony of tone with all that is to follow. The hymn immediately preceding the sermon will naturally be preparatory. The last hymn will apply the sermon, or express the sentiments which the subject presented ought to excite, or form a general conclusion to the services. And it should be constantly borne in mind that specific appropriateness to the subject of the sermon is far less important in a hymn than that it should be a truly good hymn, eminently pleasing, impressive, warm. As in the case of texts, it is very unwise to avoid the familiar hymns, for they have become familiar because they are singularly good.
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3. With reference to the music of hymns, it is proper here to make only a brief remark. The superiority of congregational singing is beyond question. Yet it seems generally necessary to have a choir, whose proper function is to lead the singing of the congregation, but whose well-known tendency is to usurp the whole. Hence result great evils, sadly familiar to us all. Now the preacher is the proper mediator between choir and congregation. If a lover of music, especially if able to sing well by note, he may keep the sympathies of the choir, and may induce them, not by public but private requests, to sing for the most part familiar tunes; and then an occasional public and private exhortation to the people, to take part in the singing, will effect the best arrangement that is usually practicable. Friendly conference with the leader of the singing might also secure a better adaptation of tune to hymn than is often observed.
§ 3. Public Prayer
The prayers form the most important part of public worship. He who leads a great congregation in prayer, who undertakes to express what they feel, or ought to feel, before God, to give utterance to their adoration, confession, supplication, assumes a very heavy responsibility. We all readily agree, and sometimes partially realize, that it is a solemn thing to speak to the people for God; is it less so when we speak to God for the people? Whatever preparation is possible for performing this duty, ought surely to be most carefully made. And yet, while very few now question the propriety of preparation, both general and special, for the work of preaching, it is feared the great majority still utterly neglect to prepare themselves for the conduct of public prayer.
The general preparation for leading in public prayer consists chiefly in the following things: (1) Fervent piety. This will include the habit of praying in private, and in social meetings. If it be true that “the only way to learn to preach is to preach,” it is still more emphatically true that the only way to learn to pray is to pray. And while some do tolerate preaching for practice, all will utterly condemn praying for practice. It is thus plain that no one will regularly pray well in public, who does not pray much and devoutly in private. Along with this it may be observed, that in every attempt to pray, under whatever circumstances, one should earnestly endeavor to realize what he is doing. (2) Familiarity with Scripture, both as furnishing topics of prayer, and supplying the most appropriate and affecting language of prayer. The minister should be constantly storing in his memory the more directly devotional expressions found everywhere in the Bible, and especially in the Psalms and Prophets, the Gospels, Epistles and Revelation.
Perhaps a few men err, in making their prayers consist of an almost uninterrupted succession of long quotations; but this is uncommon, and most of us greatly need in our prayers a larger and more varied infusion of Scripture language. (3) Study of instructive specimens of prayer. In the Bible there are found, besides the numerous single devotional expressions, various striking examples of connected and complete prayers, and very many instances in which the substance of a prayer is given though not the form. These ought to be carefully studied, for instruction in the matter and the manner of praying. Some of the long-established liturgies are also very instructive. However earnestly we may oppose the imposition of any form of prayer, there is certainly much to be learned from studying forms prepared with the greatest care, and in most cases by very able and very devout men. More modern works, as collections of prayers, and those recorded in diaries, will also repay occasional examination. In all such study of prayers, great pains must be taken not to lose the devotional in the merely critical spirit.
The special preparation which ought to be made for prayer on any given occasion, may be best understood by considering public prayer as to its matter, arrangement, language, and utterance.
1. As to the matter, prayers will be very general and comprehensive, or very specific, according to circumstances. The simple and wonderfully comprehensive prayer given by our Lord as a model in the Sermon on the Mount, and afterwards repeated in a much shortened form, which is commonly called the Lord’s Prayer, is a specimen of the former kind, while to the latter belongs the prayer in the 17th chapter of John. In both directions we often witness grave errors. Some prayers are so general as to include almost everything, and thus to have no point. A prayer ought never to be indefinite and straggling, but should always have certain well-defined topics; and these should, when practicable, be determined beforehand. Other persons enter into such minute details as to be inconsistent with the character of a prayer suited to a whole assembly, and sometimes to be indecorous.
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It is often and justly urged that we must not, in praying, undertake to instruct God. Yet this idea must not be carried too far. Our Lord, in the prayer of John 17, states what he has been doing, and explains how eternal life is attained. It is therefore proper sometimes to recite occurrences, or make statements, provided they become the occasion of thanksgiving or petition. Again, prayer must not be used as a medium for exhorting the people, as is often half unconsciously done. Nor must it contain complimentary allusions. To pray for another minister present, with elaborate compliment, is a sadly frequent, and grossly improper practice. Robert Hall erred in praying too often for distinguished persons present. So with allusions to “this large and intelligent congregation.” Of course there may be prayer for particular classes of persons, and sometimes for individuals; but no compliments. Allusions to political questions, or any matters which are occasioning strife in the community, can be justified only by peculiar circumstances and mode of handling.
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2. The arrangement of prayer must not be formal, but there should always be a real order. It is not necessary, if desirable, that this should descend to details. The leading topics must not only be chosen, as we have seen, but arranged in the mind beforehand. All the arguments we have urged in favor of arrangement in preaching, apply, more or less, to order in prayer.
The order which seems to be usually thought most appropriate, may be stated as follows: (1) Invocation, adoration, thanksgiving. (2) Confession, and prayer for forgiveness. (3) Renewed dedication, and prayer for help. (4) Intercession, for all general or special objects. Beginning with the thought of God’s character and mercies, we are naturally led to think next of our own sins; and hence the order named. But adoration may also naturally be followed by prayer that God may be known and adored over all the earth, (see the Lord’s Prayer,) and reference to ourselves, whether thanksgiving or supplication, be introduced afterwards. Or the very first words, after addressing God, may be a confession of sin, and a cry for mercy. Moreover, something peculiar in the occasion, something known to be pressing upon the hearts of the worshippers, may demand a great departure from the usual order, as well as the usual selection, of topics. We must avoid the two extremes, of wandering hither and thither, and of stiff, formal, unchangeable order. Within these limits, one may be guided by judgment and taste, by feeling and the occasion.
3. The language of prayer must, of course, be grammatical, and free from all vulgarisms and oddities. It should be thoroughly simple, — not low and coarse, but not learned or inflated. We must avoid elaborateness, and prettiness, which is extremely offensive to good taste and painful to truly devout feeling, but must not avoid, when deeply affected, the natural language of emotion, which is apt to be figurative, and sometimes very highly figurative. Where this is really natural, it will never strike one as finery. It is one of the poorest compliments that can be paid a man to say, that he made an “eloquent” prayer; earnest, fervent, solemn, deeply impressive — such are the terms to be desired, if indeed a prayer is complimented at all.
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The utterance must by all means be distinct — not boisterous, but perfectly audible throughout the room. It is very painful, and somewhat common, to be unable to hear. As to the precise tones to be employed, let one strive to realize what he is doing, and then speak simply as he feels, unless he becomes conscious of special faults. Some men are given to the use of a lugubrious tone, which does not belong to the natural language of penitence and love, and is sometimes ridiculous. The tone should, of course, be solemn and reverential, rather than familiar, but that does not require it to be “mournful.”
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§ 4. Length of the Services
In general, as has been intimated, the different parts of the service, reading Scripture, singing, preaching, prayer, should vary in length according to circumstances, one part being made longer when another is shorter, with no straining after sensational novelty, but with the variety which unrestricted feeling naturally prompts.
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§ 5. Pulpit Decorum
A preacher should never exhibit irritation at inattention, or even at misconduct, in the audience. When it is really necessary to rebuke, and to rebuke sharply, it ought to be manifest that he is not resenting a personal slight, but affected by higher motives. And in the great majority of cases, public rebukes are better omitted. They often give offence, and the good they do might usually be reached in some other way. A kind, but decided word in private is commonly much better. Few preachers have ever had occasion to regret that they had been silent, when moved to public rebuke; many have regretted that they spoke.
There should be nothing self-important, or formal, in the preacher’s manner. It is generally better to say “I” than to use the royal “we,” the plural of majesty. There may be more egotism in the latter case than the former. To avoid the too frequent recurrence of the first person singular, the preacher may often associate himself with the hearers, and then say “we.”
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§ 6. Concluding Remarks
After all our preparation, general and special, for the conduct of public worship and for preaching, our dependence for real success is on the Spirit of God. And where one preaches the gospel, in reliance on God’s blessing, he never preaches in vain. The sermon meant for the unconverted may greatly benefit believers, and vice versa. Without the slightest manifest result at present, a sermon may be heard from long afterwards; perhaps only in eternity. And the most wretched failure, seeming utterly useless, may benefit the preacher himself, and through him, all who afterwards hear him. Thus we partially see how it is that God’s Word always does good, always prospers in the thing whereto he sent it.
Nor must we ever forget the power of character and life to reinforce speech. What a preacher is, goes far to determine the effect of what he says. There is a mediaeval proverb, Cujus vita fulgur, ejus verba tonitrua, If a man’s life be lightning, his words are thunders.