Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop and Martyr
Many years ago, I attended a Sunday morning worship service in a plain church (conservative Mennonite) with my then in-laws. The service really stuck with me for the manner in which the minister went at the sermon. He began the sermon by recounting his morning: how he woke up and thought about the day, got dressed and had breakfast, and then gathered his family together to head to church. He hadn’t prepared a sermon in the days prior to that Sunday morning. He said that he chose, instead, to put it on hold until that morning. As he drove his family to church, he thought about scripture and issues facing the congregation, but a sermon just didn’t come to him. He decided, as he pulled into the church parking lot, not to worry too much about that. He would just let the Holy Spirit tell him what to say when he got to the pulpit.
Was the Holy Spirit a bit overbooked that Sunday, perhaps? Doubtless this preacher wasn’t the only one who needed some inspiration. Whatever the specifics, from where I sat it sure didn’t sound like we were hearing from the Holy Spirit. What it sounded like was the confession of a minister, overworked to be sure, who just couldn’t get around to writing his sermon that week. And so, he did the best he could.
Importantly, he came out of a tradition (the Old Order Amish) in which ministers never write their sermons in advance. They can’t because they never know prior to the morning of the service which minister will be giving the sermon. And that’s because the ministers choose who will preach when they gather in the morning before the worship service. The selected minister then puts together his thoughts for his sermon shortly before giving it. The purpose of this practice is to discourage ministers from using the privilege of preaching to advance their status in the community. In other words, it’s all about humility.
As you might imagine, I found the sermon pretty frustrating. I simply had a hard time following it owing to a few rabbit trails he took us down along the way. Still, the sermon made me think. I knew about this Gospel reading from Luke and Jesus’s reassurance that we need not worry about what to say when the chips are down; the Holy Spirit will see us through. I also knew about the 300-year-old practice among the Amish designed to make it impossible for their ministers to write their sermons in advance. And the humility that is at the root of it.
It also occurred to me that the Amish were on to something here. When I look around at the ways certain ambitious ministers turn the privilege of preaching into opportunities for personal advancement and financial gain, I know they have a point. That said, I really like to be able to follow a good sermon.
So, what is Jesus trying to say to us? Is he telling us we should never draw up an outline for an oral presentation? Does he mean that pastors should make a habit of preaching off-the-cuff? In short, when the chips are down, should I just wing it?
I don’t think that’s what Jesus meant for us to do. And I don’t think the Amish do it either.
What I think is that both Jesus’s call and the Amish church’s practice makes sense only when we put “discipline” and “disciple” in the mix. Jesus was talking to his disciples. Take the Amish—for the Amish, to be a Christian is to follow Jesus, to be a disciple. And discipleship is really hard. It takes discipline, and a lot of it. That’s why the Amish have their Ordnung, or rules for living. Not unlike a monastic community, the Amish know that discipline is essential for discipleship.
And so it is for preaching. When the Amish minister stands up to give his sermon, he’s not winging it. He’s preaching out of the 300-year-old discipline of a community that teaches that the Kingdom of God is here, that we are all already reconciled to God (thanks to Jesus’s work on the cross), and that we are therefore called to love not only ourselves and our neighbor but also our enemy. In other words, he won’t be at a loss for what to say. His mind has been well trained.
So, if Jesus isn’t saying “don’t worry, just wing it,” then what is he saying?
I think what we can learn from Jesus today is that he expects us to imbibe his teachings. He expects us to train our minds well to his teaching. It should become second nature for us. Indeed, we should be able to draw on it as easily as an Amish preacher who recounts once again the story of Dirk Willems, the Amish ancestor who, having successfully escaped imprisonment for his faith, chose to rescue the guard who fell through the ice while in pursuit. The guard was saved; Willems was burned at the stake.
I think what we can learn from Jesus today is that if we train our minds (and our bodies and our practices too) to the ways of Jesus, then we’ll be well prepared to hear the Spirit.
-Sue Trollinger