I went to train as a vicar at a Bible college with a very high view of preaching. It was the main event, we were told. What's more, we should negotiate with our PCC at least three days a week to be set aside for putting together our sermon. My word!
I suppose I was always a bit skeptical. In my previous life I ran a brand agency and I knew that the figures for what people take in during a presentation were pretty dismal. However sparkly, people take in very little of what you say. And what's more, the way you say it is way more memorable than the words themselves. It tends to breed some valuable humility.
But hey ho. In for a penny in for a pound. I nailed my colours to the mast of preaching or as we would have it at college – sitting under the authority of the Word.
A recent conversation at the crem has tended to support my brand agency insight.
The undertakers were late for the funeral I was taking at the crem. Not much to do than sit around in the room that we get changed in and watch the television. This TV shows the funeral service live and watching the goings on is a man whose job it is to watch and listen and then push a button when it's time for the music. He is a cadaverous fellow. Dare I say taciturn?
It suddenly struck me that he must have heard quite a lot of sermons. Here must be an expert.
'You must get to hear a lot of sermons,' I say.
'Yep,' he replies.
'How many a week, would you say?'
'About 40.'
That's 160 a month. That's 1,600 a year. He's been in the job for 32 years. This man has heard over 45,000 sermons.
I just had to ask the question. 'So are you a Christian?'
'Nah, can't be bothered.'
'Why,' I ask?
'They all say the same thing and lots of 'em just read the same sermon each time.'
This fellow has sat under the authority of the Word and it's bounced off him like a pea shooter attacking a tank.
To say the least, it's a bit discouraging. What are we to make of it? Perhaps he has just been jaded by the sheer avalanche of sermons. Maybe he doesn't get excited about anything. But maybe he is pointed us to some important truth.
Preaching is harder than you think. Especially as people don't seem to remember what you say.
Also in the room with us was the undertaker from the funeral that we were watching.
'We get a lot of humanist funerals these days,' he says.
I wonder if the humanists are doing any better. What are they like? Now I need to declare a bit of an interest here. I know what they are like. I've been to a few.
My wife's lovely grandmother had a humanist funeral. It was, frankly, tragic. She came in to the theme from Pot Black and the civil celebrant cracked a coupled of near-the-knuckle jokes. His catchphrase was, 'Well you've got to laugh haven't you.' None of us felt like laughing. I wanted to shout out that laughing wasn't our predominant emotion.
I'm sure there are some good ones out there, but my sense at humanist funerals is how incomplete they feel, at least that's how they feel to me. They tend to make me feel quite hopeless...kind of: is that it?
If you are a new priest, or a seasoned one, see our cadaverous fellow who has heard a glut of sermons as a challenge. Perhaps one day he will listen. One day he will take note.
Steve Morris is the parish priest of St Cuthbert's North Wembley. Before being a priest he was a writer and ran a brand agency. In the 1980s he tried to become a pop star. Follow him on Twitter @SteveMorris214
