This evening I wrote a blog piece about the threatened burning of the Qur’an in
So, a late change in direction! I am reading Tony Blair’s autobiography A Journey (one third read so far) in which he recalls a night in the early 1980s when he first heard Tony Benn speaking in public, addressing a constituency meeting in Margate.
What he describes is not all that I believe preaching to be, nor that preaching is only of one style – and this is it. But sometimes we lose sight of the fact that as ministers there is a certain something called stagecraft. There are skills to learn, to observe and appreciate, about how to lead from the front, how to conduct oneself. There was value in the sermon class of old that critiqued not just the state of your sermon but also the state of your shoes!
I love to watch and learn from skilled people in any walk of life, and anyone who works with a crowd of people potentially has something to say to preachers and worship leaders – the impeccable timing of a comedian at the microphone, the body-stance of a politician at the podium, the dress-code of the TV presenter and so on. So, consider a wonderful description of a gifted orator:
“What impressed me most was not so much the content…but the power of it, the ability to use words to move people, not simply to persuade but to propel...
First there was his utter confidence. From the outset the audience were relaxed and able to listen, because they knew the speaker was in control. When he began he looked around at them, there was no squeakiness, no uncertainty, no negative energy. It wasn’t the absence of nerves. It was the presence of self-belief. He held them, easily and naturally.
Second, he used humour. If someone can make you laugh, you are already in their power. The tension between speaker and audience, there until they get the measure of one another, evaporates.
Third, there was a thread that ran throughout the speech. There was an argument. Sometimes there was digression and the thread was momentarily obscured, but always he returned and the thread was visible once more.
Fourth, the argument was built, not plonked down. Although introduced broadly at the beginning, it was not glimpsed fully until layer upon layer of supporting words built it up and finally the argument was brought forth. Suddenly all the words were connected, the purpose was made plain and the argument was out there, and you thought only the wilfully obdurate could not see its force and agree with it.”
David Kerrigan
I have to say I'm glad we didn't have the 'sermon class' although there were classes on leading worship, including how to construct sermons and even a much-despised voice class. We were heard preaching 'in context' and feedback did once include the fact that I was very, very serious in th epulpit and not at all like the prson they knew midweek.
Definitely some good pointers in this post, says she who never tells jokes in sermons.
Posted by: Catriona | 10 September 2010 at 07:47
Hi Catriona - I certainly wouldnt like to be judged every time I preach but I cant think the last time someone adopted the role of 'critical friend' and said something that might help me spot a weakness or build on a strength. If we ever give up learning we won't just fail to improve but likely regress into bad habits, which get worse.
There's mixed views about humour - I would never just tell a joke to get a laugh, but humour is part of life and a very healthy part of it, and in my experience people do relax and warm to you if they see you're human. Laughter helps.
Posted by: David Kerrigan | 10 September 2010 at 15:39
I totally agree. I've been able to get some constructive feedback from people in the past that had a big impact on how I speak publicly now. Also getting tapes of your sermons and listening back really helps!! Watching people do something really well, especially when it's something you also do, is a great learning experience. Thanks for sharing David.
Posted by: Tara Devlin | 11 September 2010 at 04:27
I've been struck by Blair's comments on high expectations in Chapter One. He speaks of being a repository of hope whilst in opposition (p15), which leads to an impossible sense of expectation, which cannot be met. I can't help thinking there is a parallel with being the newly-called minister of a church, and the same minister a few months down the line. Perhaps it applies to anyone called to a leadership position. Any thoughts, David?
Posted by: Tim Edworthy | 14 September 2010 at 22:31
The expression 'repository of hope' was indeed significant and all leaders should embody that to some degree. After so many years of conservative government I think it was the level of expectation that he found daunting. I am finding the book at times overly introspective, but fascinating all the same. There will be other nuggets I'm sure.
Posted by: David Kerrigan | 15 September 2010 at 15:29