Note: Your comments and constructive criticisms are invited. Whether it be praise or disapproval, our only requirement is that it be done in the framework of a Christian spirit. All items under this heading reflect the personal views of the respective writers and not necessarily those of this journal or the denomination at large.—EDITORS.]
There is no class of professional men 1 whom I admire and respect more than ministers. What's more, I like them—in general. I even love one—in particular. Having spent nearly thirty years as his wife, and having been intensely interested in all facets of his work, I am now at the place of being totally unable to imagine any other kind of life for myself. Many ministers are close personal friends of mine; as a matter of fact, a great deal of my social life (what there is of the latter!) is spent in the company of members of this calling. My reason for being so emphatic about my close relationship with, and high regard for, the ministry is that I am about to exercise a certain amount of both forwardness and temerity in mentioning a collection of items rather awkward and unfavorable which I'd like to bring to the attention of this group I like so much.
Categorically, I will state that I do regard the ministry as a calling of the Lord; I don't even plan to get into that realm of the subject, nor into theology, nor exegesis, nor any of the other areas that should be discussed by experts in those fields. My only claim to expertise in the areas I shall mention is that I am a listener. I think I can safely refer to myself as a layman, if we assume that anyone who is not a minister is, in that sense, a layman. And my opportunities for listening to sermons are rather large because of regular church attendance and extensive camp meeting trips, which I enjoy tremendously. Listening carefully to sermons is a hobby of mine. I love the daily camp meeting routine, the bells which signal the beginning of the meetings; I won't miss a song service if I can help it. Therefore, I think I can safely term myself, if not an expert in the art of listening, at least an experienced listener.
Surely it cannot be construed as a denial of the power of the Holy Spirit or a lack of faith for a minister to take several good hard looks at habits and mannerisms that have, in my opinion at least, an uncommonly large potential for being annoying to listeners. Here they are, then, in no particular order of importance.
"I Bring You Greetings . . ."
Let's consider the expression "I bring you greetings from . . ." which is the almost invariable approach used by any minister who has recently returned from—well, from any area at a distance of more than 500 miles! That the thought behind the words is good, there's no doubt. That this kind of greeting from Exotica to Humdrum City was once highly titillating is also certain. But in an age characterized by jet planes, Telstar, transoceanic telephones, instant and live TV coverage of war in every corner of the globe, the greeting tends to lose a great deal of its meaning. It always seems to me that the speaker is assuming his listeners to be totally provincial, totally covered-wagon oriented!
I'm not suggesting that members in various parts of the world shouldn't show an interest in their fellow believers separated by oceans and continents. Surely, though, there's a new and more sophisticated way of bringing greetings!
Place Dropping
Closely allied with the "greeting" annoyance is a disagreeable habit I have chosen to call place dropping. The minister rises to his feet, takes a deep breath, and glowingly states that he is just back from Tashkent and Samarkand (it is always hoped, by me at least, that he took time to stop at home and change his shirt!). Offhandedly he lets it be known that on this same trip he visited with the Sherpas on the lower slopes of Mount Everest, helicoptered onto Pitcairn for half an hour—and so on. Of course, I am being apocryphal and hyperbolic—and perhaps even a little bit unkind. But the point here is, I think, that many of our ministers do travel; it is part of their work, and it is also a great privilege for them even though it means being away from home.
Let me clarify my objection. I thoroughly believe in reports from overseas, delivered by ministers who have returned from those assignments. When the avowed purpose is an up-to-the-minute run-down on the progress of our work in other countries, and the progress report has been carefully prepared, I am willing to listen at almost any length. But a constant, "contrived" reference to world travels is—well, it is downright immature—isn't it? Professional men who operate on these echelons surely need to develop a proper savoir-faire; they mustn't eternally and forever be Joe Hayseeds from Rattlesnake Gulch, with eyes bulging from the sockets as they view the Pyramids, the Eiffel Tower, or the Parthenon. And I'm tempted to wonder, ever so slightly, if, to the laity, it couldn't sometimes seem that ministers who place drop are doing just a wee bit of boasting!
Top Secret
Not quite so prevalent a mannerism, but sufficiently widespread to disturb me, are the broad hints thrown out by some ministers to indicate that they're in possession of high-level, absolutely top-secret classified information. With lowered voice and impressive solemnity they hint darkly and mysteriously; they deplore their inability to share their vast knowledge, always leaving the impression that if only they were at liberty to reveal everything the entire audience would be shaken to its foundation. Now this may be true—but I doubt it. My feeling is that very seldom is a Seventh-day Adventist minister taken into conferences that include—for a start—President Johnson, General Charles De Gaulle, and policy makers of that sort. Living as I do in the capital city of the United States, and having some rather highly placed government people myself as friends, I just can't be so easily impressed by contrived mystery. And I'm quite sure others share my feeling. If, however, a minister should find himself in the position of actually being on the "inside," surely courtesy would dictate that he remain silent. I've always noticed that people who know don't keep saying that they do!
Rumors
My next feeling of "listening" despair is brought on by ministers who don't take the time to check rumors and to get the facts straight. Truly, I believe it is a serious matter to stand before a group of people and tell them flatly and positively that such and such an event has happened or a certain sum of money has been spent or the General Conference is going to . . . or the teachers at Andrews University are saying . . . ! Because, you see, the majority of our laity believe what they are told by a minister. I'm not suggesting that misinformation is given deliberately, nor do I even entertain such a suspicion. I simply deplore the failure to check carefully. Often a simple telephone call is all that is needed.
Coarseness
And then there's the unforgivable (as far as I'm concerned) tendency toward coarseness that manifests itself in the crunching, repetitive use of such words as sex, rape, homosexual, pregnancy—and all the others of that ilk. I am not a prude, never was, hope never to be, but how many times have I sat in cringing, perspiring, paralyzed silence while a minister belabored these Anglo-Saxon expressions! Undoubtedly such topics need to be touched on now and then; but certainly this is the place for a few well-chosen euphemisms! Living in a sex-centered culture as we do, it at times seems to me that some ministers are determined to prove that they're avant-garde, that they're modern, that they can speak the language of the times. But why should they feel any necessity of this sort? Recently there appeared in one of the literary magazines to which I subscribe an article by a fairly famous critic, in which he declared himself to be vastly bored by the proliferation of filthy words in modern fiction. He wasn't, he said, shocked. He was just bored. And that describes my emotion when I hear a minister determinedly launch into these areas.
Those Jokes
An irritant of top magnitude, it seems to me, is the irresistible urge some ministers have toward broad, unbecoming humor during a sermon. Their ability to remember jokes is truly amazing, and the poor judgment they show in weaving these inappropriate remarks into a spiritual message is even more amazing. I'm all for humor (though I'm not particularly fond of jokes, as such), but humor in the proper place and time. I've actually felt embarrassed for ministers who've been obviously determined to use a joke in the sermon, whether or not it fits the topic. It is cheapening and degrading, and as a listener I don't like it. A minister is not a performer; he must never feel the slightest obligation to entertain his listeners in the current and modern context of this word. His reason for being—his purpose—is so much higher, so much nobler.
Nothing New and Fresh
In the area of subject matter for sermons, it is distressing to me, a listener, to feel that the speaker has given little or no thought to the audience for whom his message is intended. That he hasn't becomes obvious when to an almost one hundred per cent Seventh-day Adventist audience he dissects in minutest detail the most familiar Bible stories and incidents. Text by text, line by line, with no new and fresh application, he grinds slowly along, relentlessly reiterating points that his church school, academy, and SDA college-educated congregation have studied from cradle roll days.
I hasten to state that I love the familiar Bible stories, the familiar texts. I would hope that they will continue to be taught to all our children and to all our new believers. But I insist that a Biblically well-informed audience needs slightly different fare. This may call for more study on the part of the minister, which in itself might well be a plus factor!
My courage is failing me at this point as I consider my own effrontery, so I won't mention Spirit of Prophecy quotations which are as familiar as Bible stories (there must be many equally applicable ones seldom used); hackneyed illustrations (the boat, going over the rapids really should have perished long ago); the minister's calling attention to himself and his previous glorious exploits, with only a perfunctory giving God the glory." Even a lowly listener must manifest discretion.
I'm going to stop here! I stated in the beginning that I had lots of friends who are ministers. I hope, after what I've said, that it's still true!
