Read Ebook: The Clergy and the Pulpit in Their Relations to the People. by Mullois Isidore Badger George Percy Translator

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 425 lines and 41117 words, and 9 pages

"'Ireland! oh, how that name alone sticks in the Saxon throat. My friends, my heart and my mind are known to you, and I wish you to understand this, that I have power enough to prevent either Peel or Wellington from treading on the liberties of Ireland. I have only to say this to them: We will entrench ourselves behind the law and the constitution; but do not attempt to put our patience to the test beyond bounds, for if there is danger in exasperating cowards, there is a thousand times more danger in exasperating those who are not.' 'I told you at the outset that I did not feel disposed to speak: this is not a speech, it is history which I am making at this moment. The people have placed unlimited confidence in me. I might, perhaps, say with affected modesty that I do not deserve it. I will be more frank. I believe that I do deserve it.' 'Mine is a strange fortune. I believe I am the only man, living or dead, who has enjoyed uninterrupted confidence and popularity for forty years.

"'Were they to put a gag in my mouth or handcuffs on my wrists, I would still point out the safest and wisest course for you to follow. I trust there will be no conflict: let us close our ranks, shoulder to shoulder, let us rally round the constitution, that Ireland may not be delivered over to her enemies by the folly, the passions, or the treachery of her children.' "

He knows how to excite the laughter of his audience, and to enliven them with racy comparisons, which are sometimes, however, of a kind unsuited to Christian discourses.

"There was formerly a fool in Kerry--a rare thing there. This fool having discovered a hen's nest, waited till the hen had quitted it, and then took the eggs and sucked them. After sucking the first, the chicken which had been in the shell began to cry out while descending the fool's throat. 'Ah, my boy, said he, 'you speak too late.' My friends, I am not a fool; I know how to suck eggs. Should England now be disposed to tell me that she is ready to do us justice, I would say to England as the Kerry fool said to the chicken: My darling, you speak too late. "

He then continued, in the most sublime and rapturous accents:--

"In the presence of my God, and with the most profound feeling of the responsibility attached to the solemn and arduous duties which you Irishmen have twice imposed on me, I accept them, relying not on my own strength, but on yours. The people of Clare know that the only basis of liberty is religion. They have triumphed because the voice raised in behalf of the country was first uttered in prayer to God. Songs of liberty are now heard throughout our green isle, their notes traverse the hills, they fill the valleys, they murmur with the waves of our rivers and streams, and respond in tones of thunder to the echoes of the mountains. Ireland is free!"

One may readily conceive the magic of this speech. I borrow once more from the pen of M. de Cormenin.

"Eloquence does not exercise all its power, its strong, sympathetic, moving power, except upon the people. Look at O'Connell, the grandest, perhaps the only orator of modern times. How his thundering voice towers over and rules the waves of the multitude! I am not an Irishman, I have never seen O'Connell; I believe I should not understand him. Why, then, am I moved by his discourses even when translated into a strange tongue, discolored, stunted, and deprived of the charm of voice and action more than with all I have ever heard in my own country? It is because they are utterly unlike our jumbled, wordy rhetoric; because it is true passion that inspires him: passion which can and does say all that it has to say. It is, that he draws me from the shore, that he whirls with me, and drags me with him into his current. It is that he shudders, and I shudder; that he utters cries from the depths of his soul which ravish my soul; that he raises me on his wings and sustains me in the sacred transports of liberty. Under the influence of his sublime eloquence, I abhor, I detest with furious hatred, the tyrants of that unfortunate country, just as if I were O'Connell's fellow-citizen; and I seem to love green Ireland as much as my own native land."

Here we have an orator who should be constantly studied by all those who wish to benefit the people.

There is a wide difference between such powerful speeches and those dreary metaphysical sermons, those finely-spun phrases, that quintessence of reasoning, so common amongst us. For, what do we often take for an orator or preacher? ... One who wraps himself in his own conceptions, and soars into sublime regions, while the poor audience is left on the plain below to gaze at him or not, to grow weary, to sleep or to chat, when they cannot decently go away. And yet it is so easy to be popular in France. The native mind is prompt and readily roused to the noblest sentiments. Moreover, we are bound to do the higher classes this justice, that they always tolerate and even admire the preacher who addresses the people. They mingle with the crowd to join in their applause, and, what is better, to profit by what they hear. Yes, strange to say, under the influence of such eloquence, scholars and wits throw aside their arguments and their prejudices, and become one with the people--think, feel, and commend as they do. ... There are two powerful ways of leading men: to take up with the higher classes or to go to the masses. The latter appears the more powerful nowadays, for opinion and strength always prevail with those whose wills are feeble.

We must retrace our steps, then, and resume a popular style of address, which, to use a homely comparison, consists simply in entering in by the door of the people, and making them go out by ours; for to be truly popular is: to love the people ardently, to throw our souls into theirs, to identify ourselves with them; to think, feel, will, love, as they do; to rouse their instincts of justice, generosity, and pity; to fill their souls with the noblest thoughts; to exalt with the breath of the Gospel their holiest aspirations, and to send these back to them in burning words, in outbursts and sallies of the heart; and then, as with a back-stroke of the hand, to crush their errors and destroy their vices, and to lead them onward after you, while they shall believe that they are still leading the way; to abase them to the lowest depths, and then to raise them to heaven. In all this, making them to play so prominent a part that, after hearing you, they may almost be led to say with secret satisfaction:--"What an excellent sermon we have delivered!" Then will your words be invested with the two greatest powers in the world: they will be the voice of the people and the voice of God.

The Sermon Should Be Plain.

An obscure Sermon is neither Christian nor French. Abuse of philosophical Terms. Philosophical Speculations not popular amongst us. The French mind is clear and logical. Plainness of Speech. Plainness of Thought. Starting from the Known to the Unknown. Metaphors. Similes. Parables. Facts. P?re Lejeune. M. l'Abb? Ledreuil.

The sermon should be plain. ...

This truth has been partially demonstrated in the course of the foregoing remarks. It follows, moreover, as a consequence from the nature and design of the Gospel. The religious discourse which is not plain is neither Christian nor French.

The Divine word should be understood by all, even by the poor woman who crouches into a corner of the church; for she too has a soul to save, and her soul is as precious in the sight of God as the soul of a rich or learned man: perhaps more.

This is one of the glories of Christianity. Human lore is only within the reach of those who are able to comprehend it, or who have money enough to pay for it. The word of God is for all; and none can be deprived of it, as far as the preacher is concerned, without a grave dereliction of duty on his part. Severe censure is passed upon those professors who, to further their own ambitious views, take great pains with some of their pupils and neglect others. This is called a crying injustice, plundering the parents, and so forth. But the matter under consideration involves something far more serious than a pecuniary robbery.

We are all bound to preach the Gospel. Now, the Gospel is remarkably plain. When it was first announced, or while the facts which it narrates were extant or palpable, it must have been surpassingly so. Hence it is not surprising that the multitude upon whom our blessed Lord had been pouring forth the torrents of His Divine eloquence, exclaimed:--"Never man spake like this man!"

Further: he who does not use plain speech does not speak French; for the French language is naturally plain, limpid, and simple, insomuch that obscure speech is not really French: it is Teutonic, a jargon, or a patois; but it is by no means the language of the great Frank people.

All our most celebrated and popular writers and orators had a clear and impressive style. Their weakest passages are those which are most obscure. Voltaire possessed this perspicuity in a high degree; and it was partly on that account that he acquired so much influence and popularized so many errors. His speech was true French, both in expression and conception; but there was no heart in it. He had perfectly mastered his own tongue, and had equally learned to know the people with whom he had to deal. He who does not use plain speech proves that he possesses neither a knowledge of men nor a knowledge of the Gospel; nor even of his primary duties.

But it will be said:--Is it not occasionally allowable that one should clothe his thoughts in language above the common, in order thereby to raise religion and the preacher in the eyes of the people, who admire what they do not understand?

I do not object, if you believe that any good is to be done in that way, and if you feel incapable of exciting interest by a simple exposition of the beauties of Christianity. But I tell you that the idea savors strongly of charlatanism, and that Christianity has no need of such an auxiliary. Whenever such a course is adopted, it should be regarded as a tolerated exception; but on this point, also, the exception has too frequently been taken for the rule.

I repeat, it is all well enough that a few eminent men should treat such questions before select audiences; but now every one seems bent on talking philosophy, or on philosophizing about every thing. We have the philosophy of theology, the philosophy of the sacraments, the philosophy of the liturgy; and to what does it all tend? To prove that God might have occupied a prominent place among the thinkers of these times: which would be proving very little in God's favor.

There has, indeed, been quite a mania to make philosophy about every thing. We have heard a treatise on the philosophy of the hand-grenade. As a malicious wag once remarked:--"We shall soon have the philosophy of boots and shoes."

Hence it is that the ignorance respecting religion everywhere prevailing, among high and low, even among those who constantly hear sermons, is truly deplorable.

Society in general is much less instructed in matters of religion, and even in philosophical questions, than is usually supposed; for religion is no longer taught. We demonstrate, argue, philosophize, but we do not evangelize. ... There is so much ignorance among men, otherwise well-informed, on the subject of religion, that they would certainly be deemed unfit for confirmation even in a country district.

Neither is the community more proficient in philosophical than in religious questions; and much less attention is bestowed upon them than is imagined. We meet with certain systems in special books, or among a particular class of persons, and we may think that those systems are about to make a great stir in the world. But do the masses trouble themselves about them? For the most part, even intelligent men hardly know what to say when referred to on such subjects.

Some years ago, a preacher delivered several discourses in one of the principal towns of France on the subject of rationalism. He decried it in good set terms, and was judged to have spoken very ably. But the wife of a councillor in the Court of Appeal, tired of hearing so much about rationalism without being able to make out what it was, asked her husband, who was a great admirer of the discourses, to explain to her what rationalism meant. The husband stammered out a few words in reply, but was obliged at last to say:--"Sincerely, I know nothing about it; but inquire of M. le Cur?, for he ought to be able to give you the information."

Instead of dragging all these systems into the pulpit, it would have been far better to leave them immured in books and in the schools. They are not dangerous in France while restricted to the formulae in which they were originally conceived, because philosophical speculations are by no means popular amongst us. The French mind is too precise and active to be taken up with such like dreams and crude systems.

A proof of this is afforded by the old Chamber of Deputies. ... When a speaker was practical, and entered into the gist of the question in debate, there was profound silence; but if he attempted lofty flights, and soared into the region of philosophical speculations, the attention of the hearers flagged, and a great uproar ensued, insomuch that the luckless orator was frequently driven to call upon the President to enforce silence and order; who, on his part, reiterated that he could not interfere. ... Altogether such scenes presented a curious study.

Generally speaking, the Frenchman is essentially a practical man.

It is true that ever and anon we pretend to great depth; but the malady is momentary and does not last long. We are, in fact, like certain eminent men who affect a speciality to which they have no just claim, and who consider themselves more honored by a compliment for an acquirement which they do not possess, than by any which may be paid them for a talent for which they are really conspicuous.

In combating this tendency and these systems, we must be on our guard against assailing them with hazy tirades or dull metaphysics. We should drag them into the full light of the Gospel, and dissect them by translating them into plain French, and then they will soon disappear altogether. We must further bear in mind that the truth, and especially evangelical truth, is only rightly apprehended by the heart; whereas there is a general disposition amongst us to be always reasoning. Are we not aware that bare reason is foolishly vain, dishonest, stern, and sometimes pitiless, and that to be constantly appealing to its authority is to lose our time, and to engender the most deplorable ignorance in matters of religion?

The people are very fond of understanding what is addressed to them, for it raises them in their own eyes, and is, moreover, a real gratification to them. Therein they are active, whereas when merely astounded they are simply passive; to say nothing of the additional fact that they go away as ignorant as they came.

We must retrace our steps, then, and return to a clear, plain, simple, and vivifying exposition of the Gospel; for when religion is set forth in that way it is always attractive. We may have to study much to attain it, but when once Christianity is rightly understood, and we get thoroughly to know those with whom we have to do, we shall find it possible to acquire an influence over their minds and hearts, and easy to adapt our style to the intelligence of all. You should see the working classes when addressed by one of our great preachers: their countenances brighten, their eyes glisten, their bosoms glow. They understand, they are moved, they applaud.

To attain this plainness--speech being the vehicle of thought--words should never be used which are not generally understood. There are terms in language which are common to the literary and non-literary; only such should be adopted, and all scientific, philosophical, technical, theological, and even devotional terminology should be discarded. Our age is not strong in spiritual matters: they speak a language which it does not even care to learn, for it does not feel the need of it.

Use none of those set phrases, those trite expressions, which follow one after another in all sermonizers for the last half century. They form a threadbare language which no longer conveys any meaning, and which is quite unfit for the transmission of thought. Drive them from your pen and lips; try to acquire a disgust, a hatred for them: they are more unintelligible than either Latin or Greek. You would do well to abstain entirely from perusing such sermonizers, because one unwittingly picks up their hackneyed phraseology; which will recur to you when you are at a loss what else to say. Moreover, they prevent you from being natural. ...

It is desirable, doubtless, that you should read Bourdaloue for doctrine, Bossuet for touch and for the sublime, Massillon for style and form; but let that suffice. Then read the Scriptures, the Fathers, books of devotion, and such other works as will make you acquainted with the wants and tendencies of the age, and teach you how to combat its passions and its errors.

You must beware, however, of attempting to preach like Bossuet, Bourdaloue, or Massillon. They addressed courtiers, and the elite of society of their times, when men had more knowledge of religion than they have now. Besides, if those eminent preachers lived in these days, there is every reason to believe that they would not always speak now as they did then.

Plain speech should be coupled with plain thought.

Monsigneur the Archbishop of Paris, during some of his visitations, furnishes us with a delightful model of this style of addressing the people:--

"My children," said he to the operatives who had assembled in a courtyard to see and hear him, "my children, while attending to your worldly interests and material welfare--for the increase of which you have my sincere wishes--think also sometimes of that God who created us, and in whom we live, and move, and have our being. Do you know what that man resembles who lives without God and without hope? He is like a piece of wheel-work out of gear, or a faulty machine, which only mars what it ought to make, wounds the hand which it should help, and obliges the owner to break it up and throw it aside.

"Maintain, then, my beloved children, the sentiments, and practise the duties which belong to your dignity as men. As workmen, be industrious, honest, and temperate, and your condition will be as happy as it can be here below, remembering that rest will come after toil; for we are all the day-laborers of a gracious God, and life is but a day, at the end of which we shall receive ample wages, and be abundantly recompensed for all our pains.

"My children, I am glad to see that my words affect you. I regret being obliged to separate from you; but before going I give you my benediction as an earnest of my paternal tenderness, and of all the Divine graces which I invoke upon you, upon all who are dear to you, upon your families and your labors."

We should begin, then, by exhibiting the material aspects of religion, proceeding from thence to doctrines and duties, without ceasing to be simple, true, and natural throughout. This, however, is not the usual course pursued: we start with metaphysics, move onward through a redundant phraseology, and end by making religion more unintelligible than ever.

But we must be fair: preachers are not wholly to blame in this matter; for if one tries to be simple, true, natural, and evangelical, they will tell him in certain districts that his style is not sufficiently high-flown, that it does not do honor to the pulpit. This actually occurred to one of our best preachers. A member of the congregation came to him and said:-- "You speak admirably; but there is one drawback to your sermons, they are too well understood." So that the poor preacher, in order to carry out the views of his adviser, felt that he would be obliged to invoke the Holy Spirit to give him grace to say unintelligible things! ... What they wanted was something bombastic, academical, and highly seasoned; and such is what is generally regarded as constituting a profound, dignified, and useful sermon.

Look at our blessed Lord: surely He knew what real dignity was. Or, let us study the Gospel: do we find there any of these fine airs, this inflated and consequential tone? It is simple, clear, and profound throughout. We hear it occasionally said of certain individuals:--"He cannot adapt himself to the capacity of every one; his knowledge is far too high and deep for that;" which means, that the poor man indicated has heaped up in his brains, pell-mell, a mass of ill-digested ideas which he is unable to call forth with anything like order: and that is all. The truly profound man, on the contrary, is always clear. He moves calmly through the highest regions of science, and is as much at his ease there as if he were at home. He sees things, and he narrates them. He turns his thoughts over and over again, putting them into a thousand forms, so as to be able to place them within reach of the feeblest intellects. Take M. Arago as an example of this wisdom and simplicity combined. He succeeds in rendering the highest problems of astronomy intelligible, and that in a few words, even to very young children. ...

Herein, also, a wrong estimate has been formed of the French mind; since even those who move in the highest circles of society much prefer what is simple, clear, and natural.

There is a well-known preacher in Paris who gives familiar lectures--they are real sermons--even when appointed select season-preacher. He has been preaching for the last twenty years without ever sparing himself, readily responding to every call. Crowds of the elegant world, notwithstanding, press round his pulpit, and there is always the same affluence of hearers. The most eminent of preachers, who adopted a different style of address, would have been used-up long since.

A priest, full of the Spirit of God, died some years ago in the flower of his age. He was remarkable in the art of giving plain and simple lectures. After his death, these lectures, in a mutilated form, were collected and published by a female, and obtained as wide a circulation as the most celebrated discourses.

Plain speech pleases and benefits all; whereas what is called sublime speech only amuses a few, and benefits fewer still.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet