More saints endorse plagiarism

It is Permissible for a Preacher to Deliver to the People What Has Been Written by a More Eloquent Man Than Himself.

There are, indeed, some men who have a good delivery, but cannot compose anything to deliver. Now, if such men take what has been written with wisdom and eloquence by others, and commit it to memory, and deliver it to the people, they cannot be blamed, supposing them to do it without deception For in this way many become preachers of the truth (which is certainly desirable), and yet not many teachers; for all deliver the discourse which one real teacher has composed, and there are no divisions among them. . . . Hence it happens that a wicked man who is eloquent may compose a discourse in which the truth is set forth to be delivered by a good man who is not eloquent; and when this takes place, the former draws from himself what does not belong to him, and the latter receives from another what really belongs to himself. But when true believers render this service to true believers, both parties speak what is their own, for God is theirs, to whom belongs all that they say; and even those who could not compose what they say make it their own by composing their lives in harmony with it.

Who's There?

Anyway, one of the things that kept me from falling asleep again was the way in which the Web seems to press so hard on our notions of identity. You can make the Daypop Top 40 instantly by cooking up some pointless "who are you" quiz; when one of us gets rolling on identity questions, everyone jumps in; even the media tend to associate the Web with ambiguity-in-identity.

So this is what I thought, blearily: Isn't it interesting that, although we yes, "write ourselves into existence" on the web, our existence depends to a great extent on people coming to us? I can visit Tom Matrullo, or Jonathan Delacour, and no one need know I'm there. And even if someone observes my incoming packets, they don't know whence those packets come. If you curiously track one of us back to our HTML lair, you may find no trace of our "real" name, or more often, no indication of our "real" appearance. Steve thought that Halley was African-American (was he assimilating Halley Suitt to Halle Berry?); I have no notion of Steve's appearance. I just found out what b!x looks like. Gretchen Pirillo recently blogged her dismay at the chutzpah of visitors who criticize her appearance on the Lockergnome webcam images page, and one can't visit Chris's site without seeing him all over it. I see RageBoy whenever I visit his blog, with a nice mouseover effect to associate him with Dali. Someday I hope to meet Jeneane so I can see what she looks like when she changes out of her rainbow outlines. I have a rough sense of what Doc Searls looks like, and until recently I figured that Tom Matrullo looked like Dario Fo. If you are so bored that you want to know what I look like, you can click over to my Seabury-Western faculty page.

For some of us, that reticence regarding names and faces probably derives in part from a desire to reinvent ourselves, freed from names that other people appended to us, free from appearances that may not please us. For others, it's a matter of indifference. But the Web would be a different place if the browsers we manipulate bore some likeness, some avatar or simulacrum, as they came to your doorstep (or blog or whatever).

If part of my browser "preferences" included the option of what face I would present to the browsing world, I would probably at first have chosen a picture of James Joyce, perhaps slightly Photoshopped to resemble me. After a while, I'd have felt silly and self-conscious about so coy a gesture, and would have put either a photograph of myself or a caricature (Seabury presently has a gifted cartoonist & medievalist, Steve Lahey, studying here, who might indulge me with a sketch).

We guard our online privacy (such as it is) vigilantly, but what effect does our facelessness have, when so very much of what makes our interactions human has historically derived from the face to face encounter (and yes, I am thinking about Levinas here)? I'm struck by our odd sort of sociality that's faceless. Permalink -Main Page-
      ( 6:03 AM )  

Small words, intricately joined

Numerous proposals about renovating the monological model of preaching have surfaced since the nineteen-fifties. Many congregations have experimented with "dialogue sermons," more congregations are more willing to solicit preaching from non-ordained members, some congregations have substituted mini-dramas for sermons, and so on. Dave wonders "about interactivity, about team preaching (where messages are prepared by a multidisciplinary group), about (for lack of a better term) "blog-type" sermons that don't end at 12:15 sharp--about sermons that nest in cyber-space where people can chew the fat together, debate, question and mull. (Much like we do right here on a variety of topics.)"

First, I think it important to bear in mind that every congregation differs from others, and that our really cool ideas about preaching may not fit St. Framistan's Church or First Apostolic Church of Pleasantville nearly as well as they fit our particular congregation. That doesn't make other congregations hopelessly regressive--it means that different kinds of people worship in different ways, process the interaction with Scripture in different ways, want to get to different points as the outcome of their interactions with Scripture, and hence adopt different approaches to integrating the Bible with life and worship. That's fine, and no one gets bonus points for being avant garde or technological or traditional or none of the above, and we risk getting points taken off if we try to force traditional preaching into the ears of an avant garde congregation, or experimental preaching to a traditional congregation.

Second, we will probably see some significant innovations in preaching over the next decade or two, but I'm not sure we can envision those innovations yet. Homiletical drama seems to have been pretty well-received in several places, and some congregations have benefited from small-group discussions of the biblical readings for the day, but these are not brand-spanking new practices in the twenty-first century. Since I usually preach in settings where any deviation from traditional sermonic practice would be unwelcome, and since my own practice hews very close to the good old models, I'm less likely to be able to detect what the next wave might entail.

But third, I'd like to respond to Dave's battery of questions:

Where else in our society do we find 20-to-60 minute oral expositions presented as a matter of routine? In an age of media--video, music, lighting, Internet, you name it--are sermons a relic of the past? Are today's post-Boomer generations interested in sitting still for an extended period while someone talks at them? Or are they even capable of making the most of such an experience--having been weaned on 30-second commercials, lightning-speed video games and instant messaging? In short, are sermons an effective way to present the Gospel in the 21st century?

As I stop and look around, I observe both the amplified tendency toward speed that Dave cites and a patience for interesting narration (taking as examples Garrison Keillor, Lily Tomlin, Spalding Gray, Eve Ensler, extended raps, poetry slams, and other such cultural practices and practitioners). I don't see people unable to follow a story, an argument, a sermon, but people who have diminished patience for tedium. That doesn't mean that no one should practice anything different at sermon time; by all means let imaginative souls find exhilarating ways to engage congregations in apprehending and taking up the gospel. Whatever we do by way of homiletical practice, though, we ought to show the very highest respect for congregations. Many of those who show up Sunday morning (or Wednesday evening or any other time) have good reason to expect a great deal from any presentation--and though that need not involve projection screens, digital technology, interactivity, or any other single phenomenon, it probably ought to involve integrity, depth, respect, and some degree of effort.

I'll be leading two successive talks next week on preaching, so this topic will probably live on for a while in my imagination. Sorry if it bores some readers. Permalink -Main Page-