Chapter VI.

The Sermon Should Be Short.

The Discourses of the Fathers were short. The French Mind is quick to apprehend. Sermons are generally too long. Sermons of Ten, Seven, and of Five Minutes.

"Long sermons bore us," [Footnote 16] says M. de Cormenin; "and when a Frenchman is bored, he leaves the place and goes away. If he cannot so retire, he remains and talks. If he cannot talk, he yawns and falls asleep. Anyhow, he declares that he will not come again. ..."

[Footnote 16: "_Nous ennuient._" It is useless to attempt giving the full force of the French _ennui_ in any one English word. That above adopted appears to me the nearest approach to it which our language affords; still it comes far short of the expressive original. Translator.]

The sermon should be short. At all events, it must not bore. Bore or ennui is fatal in France, and is never pardoned. It has been said, there are two things which are not permitted in France, namely, to ridicule and to bore. {184} Unhappily the former is allowed nowadays, for there are many who use it, and many who abuse it; but on the article of bore society is still inflexible and implacable. The man who is deemed a bore is shunned and detested. We, the clergy, must beware of exciting this antipathy on the score of religion; the more so, because most minds secrete a stock of the sentiment, which is readily called forth when they are brought in contact with any thing serious.

On the other hand, why preach so long? I know not how we have allowed ourselves to be led into these lengthy discourses. What is the good of it? What is the object? We speak in God's name. Now, power and majesty are always chary of words; yet such words are not the less efficacious for being few. The instructions of our blessed Lord, who is the Divine Master of us all, were uniformly short. Even the Sermon on the Mount, which has revolutionized the world, does not appear to have lasted more than half an hour. The homilies of the Fathers also were short, and Saint Ambrose says:--"_Nec nimium prolixus sit sermo ne fastidium pariat; semihorae tempus communiter non excedat._" Saint François de Sales, too, recommends short sermons, and remarks that excessive length was the general fault in the preachers of his time.

He says:--"The good Saint François, in his rules to the preachers of his Order, directs that their sermons should be short.

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"Believe me, and I speak from experience, the more you say, the less will the hearers retain; the less you say, the more they will profit. By dint of burdening their memory, you will overwhelm it; just as a lamp is extinguished by feeding it with too much oil, and plants are choked by immoderate irrigation.

"When a sermon is too long, the end erases the middle from the memory, and the middle the beginning.

"Even mediocre preachers are acceptable, provided their discourses are short; whereas even the best preachers are a burden when they speak too long."

Is not long preaching very much like an attempt to surpass these men, who were so highly imbued with the spirit of Christianity?

On the other hand, we have to deal with the most intelligent, keen, and sensible people in the world. They understand a thing when only half stated, and very often divine it. You hardly speak before they are moved to accept or to reject; and yet we overcharge them with long and heavy dissertations. To act in this way, is to evince an utter unacquaintance with one's people, and to display our own ignorance, in spite of all the learning which we may possess. Moreover, it tends to excite antipathy. {186} The Frenchman does not care to be treated like a German: he does not wish to be told every thing, thereby depriving him of the pleasure of working out the truth for himself. Open the vein, lance his imagination and feelings, let them flow on the road to truth, and he will pursue it alone; perchance more quickly and further than you. Nothing impairs intelligence, sentiment, and the effusion of thought so much as redundancy of words and even of ideas.

A sharp working man, who had been listening to a sermon, was once asked--

"What did the preacher say? What do you remember of his sermon?"

"Nothing at all."

"How's that? Surely you heard him?"

"Perfectly."

"How is it, then, that you did not understand any thing?"

"Ah," replied he, in an original language, which only the people can command, "because all he had to say was hid behind a mass of words."

There is too much reminiscence of our philosophical and scholastic studies in our sermons. It often appears as if we were speaking to a meeting of young bachelors in theology. We seem to believe--and the notion is generally taken for granted--that we have not adequately developed an idea unless we discuss it for an hour or for three-quarters of an hour at the least.

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Thus the audience is overwhelmed under the weight of a ponderous erudition. It is not sufficient that they should have one proof set before them, they must submit to any conceivable number on the same subject. Or, to use M. de Cormenin's language, preachers keep on using the flat side of their sword with weak proofs, after they have given a decisive thrust with the weapon's point. What has been said a thousand times before is repeated, and what everybody knows, or what nobody needs to know, is dilated upon to no purpose.

A man must be endowed with extraordinary genius who can bring forcible thoughts to bear upon one and the same subject for the space of a whole hour. But this consideration does not appear to occasion the least embarrassment. The vacuities of thought are filled up with words, and that is called developing an idea.

For the most part, we are all convinced that others speak too long, but we are beguiled by the world's flattery.

We preach, and people are delighted, and send intimations to us that we have acquitted ourselves to admiration; that they would gladly have listened to us much longer, and so forth.

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But we know better than any one else that the world does not always speak the truth, and that we ourselves have frequently denounced its want of sincerity. How comes it, then, that we are deluded by such fine speeches? In flattering us, the world simply plies its trade; but it is our duty not to give heed to its blandishments. Moreover, there prevails at present a strong and universal conviction that, generally speaking, our sermons are too long.

Ask whom you please, enemies and friends, ask even the most fervent Christians--thanks be to God there are intelligent men, and men renowned for their charity among the sincerely religious--ask them, I say, and they will tell you that our sermons and services are too long. And if pious and intelligent men are of that opinion, what must the masses think?

Undoubtedly, the intention is praiseworthy. ... We aim at securing a greater good by lengthening out the services and sermon. Still, it is equally certain that in so doing we discard both prudence and charity. It resembles the ordinary treatment of wives, who insist on giving their sick husbands good strong broth, on the plea that it will do them more good than all the chemist's medicines. The intention is unquestionably a kind one; but it is no less true that the regimen, instead of benefiting the patients, is most likely to kill them outright. Alas! the same result has followed a similar injudicious treatment of men's souls.

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A man of high intellectual attainments, recently converted, declared that the manner in which he was bored by sermons during his youth, had kept him from listening to them for twenty years. We complain, and with reason, that the masses have ceased to frequent the church, and that sermons nowadays are not popular. But do not we assist in driving them away? The services are longer now than they were in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when there was more faith abroad among the people generally.

Religion would most probably be greatly promoted if the sermon and the services also were abridged. This might readily be affected as regards the latter. Pitch your music out of the window, or rather out of the door, as the former might not be considered parliamentary. Or, take care at least that the polkas with which your organist embellishes the _Magnificat_ shall not occupy more than a quarter of an hour. With respect to the sermons, they might easily be shortened without injuring them in the least. Lop off all commonplace considerations from the exordium, all useless discussions from the body of the discourse, and all vague phrases from the peroration. Prune away all redundant words, all parasitical epithets, using only those that triple the force of the substantive. Be chary of words and phrases; economize them as a miser does his crown-pieces. {190} The people affect those thoughts which are formulated in a single word. They like such expressions as the following:--_vive! ... à bas! ... mort! ... vengeance! ... liberté! ... justice!_ These simple words often move men more than a long discourse.

In this respect, however, there has been a marked improvement in many of our churches. There are parishes in Paris where a rule prevails that no one shall preach more than forty minutes. In some popular meetings, preachers are not allowed to speak beyond fifteen minutes, and it is there that the most good is done.

Nowadays, brevity is one of the first conditions of success, and of promoting the welfare of souls.

The preacher who was most frequented at Paris during the Lenten season this year, hardly ever exceeded half-an-hour. There are, undoubtedly, many other rules to be observed, but brevity will not injuriously affect any of them.

The people are easily impressed: they like to be moved; but nothing passes away so quickly as an emotion. In order to bring them back to the church, we must have sermons of ten, seven, and even of five minutes duration. The Mass and the sermon together should not exceed half-an-hour.

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This plan has been attempted. The experiment was made, and produced the most happy and unexpected results. Intelligent and zealous pastors, distressed at seeing that the greater part of their flock scarcely ever heard the word of God or went to church, established a low Mass, announced as specially designed for the men, with a lecture of from ten to five minutes duration every Sunday. ... Crowds flocked to the church, which was sometimes found too small to hold them. Nor was this all: many attended high Mass also, and even went to the confessional; which they had not done, some for twenty, some for thirty, and some for forty years. This success was obtained in irreligious as well as religious districts, and under the most unfavorable circumstances; even in populous manufacturing towns. And the same plan is practicable everywhere. Frequently, nothing more is required than a man to take the initiative with a right good will, in order to attract crowds to the church and to religion.

But it will be objected: What can be said in ten or seven minutes? Much, much more than is generally thought, when due preparation is made, when we have a good knowledge of mankind, and are well versed in religious matters. ... Have not a few words often sufficed to revolutionize multitudes, and to produce an immense impression?

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The harangues of Napoleon only lasted a few minutes, yet they electrified whole armies. The speech at Bourdeaux did not exceed a quarter of an hour, and yet it resounded throughout the world. Had it been longer, it would have been less effective. In fifteen weeks, with a sermon of seven minutes every Sunday, one might give a complete course of religious instruction, if the sermons were well digested beforehand. [Footnote 17]

[Footnote 17: We have chosen the seven minutes sermon, because experience has taught us that it attracts the greatest numbers.]

If, then, you wish to be successful, in the first place fix the length of your sermon, and never go beyond the time; be inflexible on that score. Should you exceed it, apologize to your audience for so doing, and prove in the pulpit of truth that you can be faithful to your word.

In your course of instruction, do not follow the old method which commences with metaphysical questions and principles; but adhere to the plan which we have indicated: start from the known to the unknown. ...

In the first place, disconnect religion from all prejudices and passions, and from every thing uncongenial. Discard all objections and antagonisms. Exhibit it as good and lovely, then true, then divine, then as obligatory, proceeding onward from thence to God's commandments and to the sacraments. If you apprehend that the term "God's commandments" does not sufficiently strike your hearers, you may call them the duties of an upright man.

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When about to compose your sermon, study your subject thoroughly, grasp the salient points, and then write. ...

But do not stop there; begin afresh. Supposing that you have written four pages, reduce them to two, taking care that all the strong thoughts and sentiments remain. ... Use those terms which belong to a single thought, those expressions which imprint themselves--or, as the Scripture says, engrave the truth as with a pen of steel--on the hearts of men, and which scatter it abroad full of life and exultation. Nothing is so profitable as this exercise: it cultivates and supplies the intellect, gives us a deeper insight into Christianity and mankind, and it teaches us how to think, and how to write. ...

During the reading of the Gospel, ascend the pulpit and be quite ready. Place your watch by your side and begin thus:--"Last Sunday we said so and so. To-day we continue." ... Then enter fully into your subject, enlightening the minds of your hearers or stirring up their hearts as may be suitable, during the discourse. When the allotted time arrives, stop short and conclude.

"But do speak more at length ... you are wrong in being so brief ... you only tantalize your audience ... you deprive them of a real pleasure." Expostulations like these will pour in upon you; but don't listen to them: be inflexible, for those who urge them are enemies without knowing it.

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Be more rigid than ever in observing the rule which you have prescribed for yourself. Then your sermon will be talked of--it will be a phenomenon--every body will come to _see_ a sermon of seven minutes duration. The people will come; the rich will follow. Faith will bring the one, and curiosity will attract the other, and thus the Divine word will have freer course and be glorified. ...

If the men do not come, appeal to the women, and ask them to help you. If you want to attract the women, announce that you intend preaching specially for the men. You will find this method infallible; the men will follow.

Moreover, go yourself and find them out: visit the workshops, factories, and wharves. Be particularly attentive to those who are shabbily dressed and ill-favored. On taking your departure, tell them with a smile that French politeness--in which you feel quite sure they are not deficient--demands that visits received should be returned: that you will dispense with their coming to you personally, but will expect to see them at the seven minutes sermon. The result will not disappoint you.

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When you have many male hearers, you should reserve a space for them. The women will complain that thereby they are placed further away; but you must appease them with a compliment. Tell them that you know their charity, and are persuaded that they would not certainly wish to hinder the word of God from being heard by those who need it most.

When you have well cultivated your congregation, when a strong current of sympathy and charity has set in from them to you and from you to them, when a number of conversions shall have been made, then you may think of sending some of them to high Mass and to Vespers. Don't fail to felicitate such:--"You have come hither to hear me. So far well, and I am greatly rejoiced at it. Still you may do something better: you may attend high Mass," adding your reasons, and then conclude somewhat in this style:--"Now, I hope that those who are rightly disposed will attend high Mass. I only want the badly disposed, poor downright sinners, at my sermons." You will be obeyed by some, and you will thereby do much toward repopularizing religion; and when those who are not converted fall sick they will say:--"Send for the man who preaches the seven minutes sermon; I don't want any other." Thus God will be blessed and glorified. ...

Here, then, you have a very simple and cheap means of restoring the people to religion. It may be put into practice everywhere: in great cities, in small towns, and even in hamlets. The subject is one for serious reflection. {196} Even in our most religiously disposed towns, hardly a third of the inhabitants habitually hear the word of God. Elsewhere, matters are still worse; and yet all are sheep of the same Divine pastor, all have a soul to save. Moreover, according to all theologians, every parish priest of a cure is required, _sub gravi_, to preach at low Mass, whenever the faithful generally do not attend high Mass. Hence, by pursuing the course above indicated, we may not only save others but shall also exonerate ourselves.

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