MANNERISMS
You will be told, Oswald, in schools and divers books, what NOT to do with your hands; but never will you hear or read anything about what to DO with them. Doubtless with your deep intellect and ingenuity you can devise various ways to dispose of them while preaching.
There are preachers who wave them in the air and who pound the pulpit-stand before them, rythmically driving every point home. Pockets are a convenient parking place. A watch chain is a godsend since it can keep one hand occupied and will solve exactly one-half of your problem. The solution of the other half may rest with your glasses; they can be taken off and put on many times during a sermon. Yes, on the whole, Oswald, I believe the watch chain and the glasses to be happy answers to the problem of what to do with your hands.
Some preachers have the delightful habit of clinking money, keys, or anything they happen to have in their pockets, while they talk. This is very distracting to the audience and will take the people’s minds off the sermon. If you are conscious of having a very poor sermon, Oswald, try this little plan and your congregation will never discover that the sermon was not all it should have been. A disguise, so to speak, or a camouflage.
There are preachers who smack their lips and who mop their brows in the course of their discussions. There are those who toy with a coat button, or with one ear lobe. There are those who repeat various phrases over and over, as: “More specifically,” or “Enough of that,” or “Listen to me,” or “Dearly beloved,” or “So far so good.” There are those who assume vulgar attitudes, disgusting and repulsive to people of taste and refinement; and who make the audience body-conscious instead of sermon-conscious,—or Christ-conscious!
And, Oswald, please anchor your trousers firmly! After one nerve-racking exhibition of unanchored trousers one poor soul left a certain church in a frenzy, mumbling wildly to herself, “Oh, my Aunt Eliza! Thank God they didn’t slip.” You can see, Oswald, that the sermon was a complete loss to her.
It is surprising how many able and attractive ministers there are who present an ungainly and awkward appearance when seated on the platform. They wind one leg about the other like a bean vine around a pole; they slouch; they sprawl; they sit with closed eyes; they look heavenward with an assumption of piety; they thrust their hands into their pockets and recline on their spines.
Remember, Ozzy, that any ridicule that falls upon yourself will fall in a great measure upon the cause you represent. Try to be dignified and courteous and well-bred at all times; avoid giving offense to any person; and remember that good taste demands certain standards of deportment. It is possible that a church may reject a man because of certain offensive peculiarities and mannerisms not acceptable to people of good taste.
There are preachers who tear the hair and stamp the floor; who thump the Bible; who jump into a chair and out; who roar; who whirl like a dervish; who hop across the floor with their arms waving, declaiming, “I am a little bird, I fly, I fly!” In short they act as if they were fit for bedlam only and render an exceedingly attractive gospel unattractive by their ridiculous and absurd mannerisms.
There are preachers who speak too slowly, with a prolonged “ah-h-h” at the end of words or sentences. Others preach like a house afire, indulging in endurance and altitude flights, until their tongues become twisted and amusing statements result. Bear witness:
“He lives so far South that he can hear the roar of the ocean waves when he sleeps in the daytime and when he walks about the streets at night.”
“He pulled that string across the bow—”
“—the poor man had a big seat on the patch of his pants.”
“Kill the catted falf.”
“We thank you from the hearts of our bottom.”
“—a bright and lining shight.”
“John the Baptist had his head saturated from his body!”
“Bound for Glory with my tail over the dashboard.”
Posted in CHAPTER SEVEN
You may try to persuade yourself that this is an ordinary book — in order that you may find comfort in the persuasion - but you cannot do so and be fair to facts.