I reckon that by the time I was 24 I had heard approximately
1,018 sermons, but none of them prepared me for the one I heard at the
1999 commencement service at Colgate Rochester Crozer Divinity
School.
The preacher was the Rev. Peter J. Gomes, then minister
of The Memorial Church of Harvard University. After the service, as
he greeted each person by the door just like my Baptist pastor did back in
West Virginia, I thought to myself, "For an Episcopalian, that dude can
preach." It took me a couple years before I discovered that he too
was an American Baptist. The
experience of that sermon altered my view of pastoral ministry; I dare say
it propelled my vocational choice.
I graduated sure of my talents and wisdom. I never thought
to seek the advice of other preachers, much less Peter Gomes, until
two years after graduation. By then I had used all the divinity bells and
whistles. Let me say that Dr. Gomes never knew that he was mentoring me,
but he did, from afar.
The mentoring process began with his books; one day
I found a copy of "Sermons: Biblical Wisdom for Daily Living" at
the Brown University bookstore, and devoured it that night. The process
continued with more books of sermons, and the weekly online worship
services made available by Memorial Church.
I followed the weekly sermon schedule the way others follow
the daily box score of their favorite baseball team. His sermons were
witty, engaging, intelligent, challenging, and marvelous. His
preaching pushed me to take the craft of sermon-writing more seriously.
He also taught me to take the theatrical and historical aspects of
preaching to a deeper level: Why look like an insurance salesperson when
you can look like a preacher?
I could imitate his approach but I had a difficult time
figuring out the how and why of his Sunday
liturgical wear: a cassock, with preaching tabs, and a preaching gown. How
could a Baptist wear such an outfit? My question was quickly answered when
I looked at portraits of the pastors of the First Baptist Church in America in Providence,
R.I.; they all wore the same liturgical outfit!
But it was not until I discovered the 1996 New Yorker
profile of Gomes written by Robert S. Boynton that I found one of the
greatest descriptions of a Baptist pastor with liturgical leanings. Gomes
referred to himself as "a Baptist with an Anglican
Oversoul." That description was my “aha!” moment that parted the
waters, enabling me to embrace my own high-church proclivities. Soon
after, I called Dr. Gomes’ personal assistant and inquired where he
purchased his ecclesiastical uniform. She directed me to an
English clerical company named Whipple. I located J. Whipple & Co. and
ordered my own cassock, preaching gown, and a set of preaching tabs. A few
weeks later a package was delivered, via Royal Mail, on a Sunday afternoon, to the parsonage.
The first Sunday I wore the
outfit, the congregation giggled and scratched their heads. But after a
few weeks they agreed that the outfit improved my preaching by at least
15%.
Over the years I discovered the treasure-trove of lectures
on preaching that Dr. Gomes delivered: online, printed, on CD, and on
cassette tapes. I listened to and read the lectures as if he were sitting
in my office offering me personal advice on preaching and the pastoral
life. The advice is practical: the time constraints of a Protestant
service (one Lord, one faith, one hour); listener attentiveness (keep
them on the edges of the pews), and the dos and don’ts of the pulpit
(don’t preach your doubts, do take the congregation on the roads you
travel in preparation, even down a dead end).
Here and there, colleagues shared their favorite Peter
stories. One recalled walking past Memorial Church at 2
a.m. and hearing the organ. She opened a door and found Peter at
the organ, belting out old Baptist hymns.
I treasure the only time I talked to him face-to-face.
After he finished a lecture on preaching at Andover Newton Theological School,
a rather righteous seminary student took him to task for his participation
in the inaugural ceremonies of Presidents Reagan and Bush. I knew how he
would answer, but it was precious to see it in person. Peter rolled his eyes
and asked, “Do you think you are the first person to ever pose this
question to me?” Then he gave his classic response. “I can only answer
this way: imagine how terrible it would have been if I had not been
there!”
When Peter died in 2011, I felt the passing of my mentor
deep in my bones. I give thanks for his influence and impact on my life
every time a congregant says it is apparent that I love what I am doing.
More than anything, he gave me the image of pastoral life as one of
meaning, challenge, purpose, and joy. With him as a mentor for pastoral
ministry, I am having the time of my life.
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