Is it better 'from the heart' or from a script?

‘He didn’t preach from the heart… it’s not the same unless they preach from the heart!’ I can still remember the critique offered by my grandmother on the Sunday that we’d returned from church, having witnessed, in her opinion, the performance of a second-rate minister. He was exposed as such by the fact that he’d dared to use notes for his sermon. From time to time, this critique comes back to haunt me, as most Sundays I step into the pulpit with a fully script in my hand.

I was reminded of my grandmother’s views this morning, reading and watching the reports of Ed Miliband’s speech yesterday at the Labour Party Conference. What Ed said has now been overshadowed by what he didn’t say, as it’s emerged that his attempts to impress again with the party piece of speaking without notes backfired on him when he forgot whole sections of the speech which addressed issues such as the economy and immigration.

It’s an astonishing error to make on such an occasion, which surely raises the question of why he put himself under the pressure of learning such a lot of lines for a major set-piece event. What do we learn about someone when they speak without notes? Does it really prove they have more passion, or just that they have a good memory? It could be argued that on some occasions, a memorised speech allows for a conversational style, which seems to have been the effect Miliband was aiming for yesterday. But the impression we’ve been left with is a disastrous attempt to put presentational gimmicks ahead of content and substance.

I still detect in some churches a preference for preaching which is extemporaneous. Sometimes, it seems to me that this is a viewpoint underpinned by anti-intellectualism, the suspicion that too many hours of research and reflection may end up taking off an edge of passion and zeal. But surely what matters most is effective preparation, weighing and sifting ideas, so that we speak a word which is thoughtful and truly can rise to the occasion. And whether or not what is delivered is done so with or without notes is surely of secondary importance.

But am I missing a point? Are there moments when a script diminishes a sermon? All views welcome… 

Salamanders, Hell and the perverse appeal of illogical thought

I’ve been thinking a lot about hell recently. It’s not a subject which normally preoccupies but a forthcoming sermon series which will include a reflection on the nature of life after death has prompted me to follow up in more details some issues which have been at the back of my mind for the last few years. I’ve been helped in this process by Rethinking Hell, an excellent resource published just this year which brings together a collection of various writings which make a compelling case for evangelical conditionalism.

One of the essays included in this book is written by Philip Edgcumbe Hughes, who reflects, amongst other things, on the writings of Augustine on this subject. One of the logical problems which needs to be overcome by those who insist on the notion of eternal punishment achieved by flames perpetually licking around the damned is the fact normally consumes that which it burns. I was intrigued just a few days ago to discover the workaround that Augustine proposed on this issue. He called upon the science of his day and informed his readers that certain creatures, and in particular the salamander, “can live in the fire, in burning without being consumed, in pain without dying.”

So there you have it… a picture of a loving God who not only sustains the lost for the purposes of ensuring their constant punishment, but constructs for the purpose a special new type of flame-retardant body, a smart new version of humanity with a little bit of salamander thrown into the mix. Am I the only person who finds this notion a little ‘left field,’ to be polite?

And yet the problem with Augustine’s proposal is that its weirdness is probably part of its appeal to some. It is so illogical, so outside the realms of natural and predictable patterns of thought that we are tempted to think of it as having a kind of dazzling brilliance. Some of us might be tempted to think, ‘Of course, wow, I’d never thought of that…’ and hence assume it must be right.

The flame-resistant Salamander theory reminded me of another theory on eternal life which was taught to me years ago. I remember sitting in my bible class as a teenager and being told about the dual tracks open to people for eternity. One of my concerns about heaven was how it would turn out to be such an enjoyable place for those present, given their awareness about all the souls suffering in hell. ‘It’s fine,’ I was told with considerable confidence. ‘In heaven, you’ll be so busy praising God that you’ll forget about anyone you ever knew who isn’t there.’ Problem solved, then – we can all party with a clear conscience. The answer was offered with such supreme self-belief that it didn’t seem right to challenge it, but even then I remember having my doubts. I wondered about the authority with which this theory was pronounced, where this ‘insider information’ came from and I found it hard to feel completely at peace about the notion of what seemed to me like a heartless heaven, a group of people having a great time but with a somewhat callous disregard to those who hadn’t made it to the celebration.

Of course, faith does sometimes require us to lay aside doubts and believe in the possibility of miracles. The defining event in which we place our trust is the resurrection of one who had been in the grave for three days.

But, it seems to me, there’s a difference between belief in miracles and belief in that which requires us to put all of our critical faculties on hold. We all know the maxim about a lie being half way round the world before truth has got its boots on. How many other misapprehensions are sustained because of the apparent confidence of someone who claimed a special kind of higher knowledge and the reluctance of others to ask questions for fear that their sensible logic would be talked down and labelled as doubt?