Rev. Douglas J. House, M.Div.
“Preach the Gospel, and if necessary, use words.” -St. Francis of Assisi
With the recent passing of Pope Francis, I was reminded of these words attributed to St. Francis of Assisi. The Pope assumed his name when he was elected as the leader of the Roman Catholic Church in 2013.
I retired from full-time parish ministry five years ago, after a career that lasted over 40 years. I remember one of my friends asking me, upon my retirement, if I would be relieved not to write a sermon every week. He was surprised when I told him that sermon writing would probably be the one thing that I would miss the most.
For some clergy, sermon writing every week is a chore. At times no inspiration seems to come. Or, if you come from a tradition where scriptural lessons are appointed for each week, it’s easy to think, “What can I say this week that I haven’t said before?” And then, sometimes you will discover lessons appointed for some weeks that will arouse or perhaps anger your congregation. You will have to tread delicately while preserving the message the words offer.
There is an art to preaching; maneuvering through landmines can be difficult. But I always felt encouraged in writing for the congregations that I served. Not every sermon was fantastic to be sure, but I’ve often thought of the quote which was offered at the retirement party for a well-loved pastor. A man stood up to make a toast and he said, “I may not remember a single sermon that you preached, but over the years of your ministry, each one of them fed me in one way or another.”
Life is a gift, not to possess, but to share” – Henri Nouwen
Perhaps like the guest at the retirement dinner, you may not be able to recall any specific sermon that you have heard, and that’s OK. But, if you were able to reach out and touch the life of someone in need, you may well have been living the very words that you once heard from a pulpit. Arguably, there are many purposes for a sermon. Sermons can be instructional; we can learn from them. They also can be transformational. They can move us to think differently, or to act more lovingly, or to care more deeply. They can cause us to recall the words of the Rev. Henri Nouwen that “life is a gift, not to possess, but to share”. When we reach out and share with others, we connect in ways that we couldn’t have predicted. We discover the true essence of friendship, compassion, and love. We end up sharing the gifts of life. While sermons may encourage all of these characteristics, they certainly can be expressed in ways other than by words.
The Woman on the street in Wuhan, China
In January of 2020, I was teaching a course in American Literature and Culture at a university in Wuhan, China. The course included the story of Europeans coming to these shores in the 17th century. I explained to the students that people arriving here wanted to worship God as they saw fit without there being any penalty for doing so. I was aware of the history of religious suppression in China, and I was very careful about how and what I said. I was pretty certain that my lectures were being recorded by the authorities. After one class, my Teaching Assistant handed me a card, expressly created for foreign visitors to China. It explained various laws of the society and one law addressed the practice of religion. As of that time, laws pertaining to religious practice had been loosened. Individuals were permitted to worship (or not) as they wished. What was against the law was the effort to encourage people to join any particular religion. My Teaching Assistant explained that there would be no problem in discussing religion in an academic environment as I had done. I was not attempting to evangelize anyone.
Some weeks later, I was walking down a street in Wuhan after dark. The city was still abuzz with people moving about as if it were the middle of the day. As I crossed one of the busy streets, I noticed a small elderly woman on a corner, quietly and discreetly handing out something to passers-by under the cover of darkness. I remember that she was being careful not to draw attention to herself, never making eye contact with anyone. As I passed by, she placed something in my hand. I didn’t look at it in the dark, I just stuffed it into my pocket until I returned to my apartment. The woman had handed me a small pamphlet which was written in Mandarin. From the designs on the pamphlet, I could see that the elderly woman was inviting people to attend her church. What she was doing was against the law. But in her silence, she was preaching. She was sharing the gift of life and hope with passers-by. She couldn’t have known who would take her pamphlet, nor who might have turned her into the authorities. But sharing her words of life and hope in the silence of that dark night may just have been what someone might have needed in that moment. Sermons come in various shapes and sizes. At times, even smiles, hugs, and words of encouragement can be sermonic. I have always valued the words of St. Francis of Assisi, who called us to remember, as that woman from Wuhan demonstrated, that we are to “preach the Gospel, and if necessary, use words.”
