If You Would Be Gladly Heard

When books such as Rudolph Flesch’s The Art of Plain Talk began reaching the public, the academic world was somewhat disconcerted. Academic jargon was attacked. An alternative was posed. Must the world of letters bow to the common man’s language, or would the breach widen between scholars and the commercial populi?

Until “plain talk” was made popular, ivy tower educators could discuss the utilitarian aspects of the vernacular with utter objectivity. Semantics taught that the “color” of a language lies in the idiomatic expression of the work-a-day world. It was enough if the scholar acknowledged this fact with academic interest and benevolence. As teachers, writers, and lecturers, scholars were remote from so mundane a world, and token patronage was all that was expected. Moreover, polysyllabic language was their cloister, insuring a “great gulf fixed.”

Naturally, the attitude was assumed by some ministers of the Gospel. A preciseness in ordinary conversation seemed to mark some of them. Sepulcher tones, never heard except on Sunday or for prayer, were affected for worship. And, when a man would go to Edinburgh to study for two years, he would return with a Scottish brogue which he safeguarded throughout his lifetime against all the inroads of his mother tongue! Many a parishioner cherished the thought, “If he had gone to a South American University would he have come home with a Latin accent and the Pedro image?”

The academic world yielded to the pressure for plain talk, perhaps not so universally as but sooner than did the clergy. Dr. Paul de Kruif ripped the cloak of obscurity from medicine with his Microbe Hunters, Men Against Death, Hunger Fighters, and Seven Iron Men. Some medical men disdained the popularizing of knowledge in their field, but Dr. de Kruif was a thoroughgoing student. His information was accurate. Time has proved his work a great service to his profession.

The degeneracy of communication has come, not from the serious students, eager to gain rapport with a thoughtful public, but from the uninitiated television and magazine popularizations.

A parallel exists in Christian communication. Although the clergy was slower to respond, its response went suddenly to the extreme. There was a mad scramble among some theologians to become one with the parishioner. The togetherness of first names, the downtown coffee conclaves, the joining of as many civic clubs as possible, and other desperate efforts toward affableness were flustered and confusing.

Nor did the frost of the sanctuary depart. This “hail fellow well met” became something else as soon as he mounted the chancel and disclosed the mask of profundity securely in place.

Naturally, the outgrowth of a popularizing of religion led to over-simplification through mass media. Doctrine is mutilated in the interests of “getting down to the level” of the man in the street.

The premise of “getting down to the level” is our basic error. There is a sense in which technical terminology is a poor vehicle of communication to the man untrained in theology. But the fact remains, anyone with average intelligence can understand all that God intends for him to know from the Word of God.

There is nothing revolutionary in the manner of expression advocated by Mr. Flesch and others. Eighty percent of the words Jesus used in the Sermon on the Mount have been translated by the King James scholars with monosyllables. Obviously, Christ himself was plain spoken. St. Mark tells us that “the common people heard him gladly” (12:37).

Why “gladly”? Because they could usually understand him. (Some of his parabolic teachings were not revealed to them, and because they did not want to believe they did not always comprehend, as in the case of John 8:43.) They were also glad to hear him because he spoke to their needs. Did not he say that he was anointed to “preach the gospel to the poor” (Luke 4:18)?

Sometimes they were offended (turned away) by his message; sometimes they were astonished, but always they were attracted to him. Perhaps this was primarily due to his unique authority. “… They were astonished at his doctrine: for he taught them as one that had authority, and not as the scribes” (Mark 1:22).

Scribes documented everything they said by the Talmud or other Rabbinic authority. Of Jesus it was said, simply, “He preached the word unto them” (Mark 2:2). Of the scribes, Jesus said they obscured the Word by their legalism: “Making the word of God of none effect through your tradition, which ye have delivered: and many such like things do ye” (Mark 7:13), and “… teaching for doctrines the commandments of men” (Mark 7:7). He implied that there is intrinsic power in the Word when he said, “Ye do err, not knowing the scriptures, nor the power of God” (Matt. 22:29).

Undoubtedly, authority gives a dynamic to preaching. Dynamo can be confused with energetic delivery or persuasiveness. The authoritative message of Jesus was couched in “gracious words” (Luke 4:22). The Psalmist had predicted that this would be so: “… Grace is poured into thy lips …” (Ps. 45:2). There is no substitute for genuine grace.

Nor is graciousness in any sense of the word unmanly. Even temple soldiers could be a judge of manliness, and when temple soldiers were sent to arrest Jesus they returned without him. Questioned, they replied, “Never man spake like this man” (John 7:46).

Yes, the forcible right words of Christ were words of grace, yet commanding. He who denounced the scribes and Pharisees in scathing terms of rebuke, he who called a “spade a spade” when labeling Herod “that old fox,” he who recognized Satan when that wily one used the beloved Peter’s lips to tempt Him, he who named the false prophets “wolves in sheep’s clothing,” he who spoke of “the fire that never shall be quenched”—he had a message too important to proclaim in difficult language and in lofty tones.

The man of God has the same vital message. He has the most interesting subject material in existence. The “common people” want to hear about death, immortality, heaven, hell, righteousness, sin, and a thousand other biblical themes. Above all they want you to

“Make the message clear and plain

Christ receiveth sinful men.”

The theological literati have their place in the ivy towers of research and debate. Indeed, theology as well as philosophy and science is entitled to its technical terminology within the scope of scholastic exchange. But, for the preacher of righteousness, the task is to feed the flock of God with the milk and meat of the Word. What you say and how you say it will determine how “gladly” you are received.

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