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The Speech of a Lifetime

Easter 4 : 11 May 2014  : Acts 2: 14, 36-41

Looking back on my brief career as a part time army chaplain I recall with particular pleasure our end of year padres adventure to somewhere in the back of beyond during which we would recall our experiences of ministry in the green machine. One of our colleagues, a catholic priest from the Hutt, had a great story to tell about his time with the tankies, the armoured corps. Concerned about the amount of foul language that he routinely heard around the base he approached the commanding officer to enlist his support, hoping that a combination of pressure from the top and priestly encouragement from below would effect a reformation of manners. "Leave it with me Padre," replied the CO with a wry smile.

Sometime later at a well lubricated all ranks social do the CO sprang his trap. Turning to the chaplain he said, "Now’s your chance Padre –– they’re all here - get up on the table there and sort them out about this swearing business." Rising to his feet as silence fell the chaplain realised with a sinking heart that this was mission impossible, but he made a game beginning. "As I go around this base I hear language that you would be ashamed to repeat in front of your wives and girlfriends." A roar of drunken laughter drowned him out. The incident would later enter the folk lore of the armoured regiment as a spectacular clergy howler.

Speaking in public in an unstructured situation on some issue of the moment on behalf of the things of God is one of the greatest challenges any preacher can face. That speech we heard from Peter this morning is a truncated version in which the front end of the story, that provoked this street corner oratory, is left out. The Spirit has just descended in power on the disciples at Pentecost. They go out into the street and with ecstatically inspired speech announce the wonderful deeds of God in all the variety of languages that the Jews from the dispersion, who have gathered in Jerusalem, would understand. But the target audience interprets this behaviour in a different way. "These men are drunk," is their explanation. That is the accusation that Peter spontaneously decides he must deal with, and so he gets up to make the speech of a lifetime.

Street corner preaching still goes on in some urban locations in New Zealand. One that I recall vividly was the Liberty Mission who used to gather a large crowd of the urban street poor around them in Glover Park, central Wellington on Sunday evening. The draw card was the free meal they would receive if they were prepared to listen to an evangelistic address first.

What a challenge for any preacher. What could you say in five or ten minutes to a drink and drug befuddled audience who impatiently wait for you to finish so they can get to the tucker? I hope that it was good news they proclaim and not just the formulaic "Jesus died for your sins, and if you accept Jesus Christ as your personal lord and saviour you will be saved."

When religious people start talking to outsiders they often fall back on code language. As the dreary message rolls out in weary clichés in an utterly predictable way the audience turns off, tunes out, and walks away. You can rant as loud as you want to but it won’t make any difference. A bore is a bore is a bore.

The great preachers have always taken their audience by surprise, catching their interest with the unexpected, drawing them in and building up the tension, and then finally springing the trap on them. On one of his visits to London, Wesley spoke in the morning to the destitute and downtrodden at Whitechapel in the east end of London– his text, "Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world." In the evening he spoke to the born to rule wealthy in the west end – his text, "Who told you to flee from the wrath to come, you brood of vipers?"

That sermon of Peter’s that we listened into this morning is in fact subliminally well known to us. It is read out at the start of every baptism Service in the Anglican Church as an explanation of what baptism is about, and why people should perform this ritual action. Don’t let long familiarity blunt your perception of the novel tack Peter took.

This is no insipid, bland, treat the audience with kid gloves stuff. He moves in on them with the crucial issue, and gets right to the point. "This Jesus whom you crucified–God has made both Lord and Christ." Yet at the same time this is a message of hope, of good news, it is about resurrection. And when the audience responds positively with a request, "What must we do," he is ready with a joining action to immediately recommend. "Be baptised."

I would be surprised if many of us will be required to preach an altar call to the street people of Dunedin, or to speak a word of wisdom to a mess full of drunken soldiers. Nevertheless every one of us who are baptised is expected to be able, in the words of the epistle of Peter, "to give an account of the hope that is within you." Evangelisation in our society usually takes place on a person by person, small group to small group basis. Opportunities come, or rather are usually thrust upon us when we least expect it, to speak with simplicity and authenticity about the God we love, and the effects of our faith in our life.

Perhaps after this morning we might give some prior thought as to how we might go about doing this. My advice would be to make sure it is good news that we have to say. What is it in the common experience of the two of us in dialogue that points in positive terms to the God of life? At the same time don’t let this be an insipid, bland exchange of opinion with no element of challenge in it. The good news of God is always seeking to close with its hearers about the particularities of people’s lives. To offer hope is not just to leave people in the status quo of what they have got now. When people are trying to convince me about a truth what gets through is a note of warmth and humour as though what they speak of resonates from within as something that has become an accustomed and accepted part of who they are. With that usually goes a kind of freshness, and directness, and an ability to get to the point, and express that living truth clearly and simply.

Oh no, I can’t do that we think to ourselves. I haven’t had enough religious experience, or any kind of training in that kind of thing. But then our patron saint, coming to the task from a background of being a fisherman, had no training in rhetoric, or theology. At the front end of his speech of a lifetime is a vivid experience of the Holy Spirit. At the back end of its outcome is an experience of believing community to which the 3,000 converts were added. Both of these resources are available to us.

Perhaps too in all this worrying about the target audience we have forgotten about the most important person who is listening to what we have to say about Him. Mervyn Stockwood was a great wit and personality in the Church of England. At his institution to a parish in Cambridge he chose a text from Isaiah for the inaugural sermon that is a warning and a reminder to all who will speak in Christ’s name, "You may have bored men, but must you also weary your God?"