"Emerson,_Ralph_Waldo_-_An_Address" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emerson Ralph Waldo)

at all. Not a line did he draw out of real history. The true
preacher can be known by this, that he deals out to the people his
life, -- life passed through the fire of thought. But of the bad
preacher, it could not be told from his sermon, what age of the world
he fell in; whether he had a father or a child; whether he was a
freeholder or a pauper; whether he was a citizen or a countryman; or
any other fact of his biography. It seemed strange that the people
should come to church. It seemed as if their houses were very
unentertaining, that they should prefer this thoughtless clamor. It
shows that there is a commanding attraction in the moral sentiment,
that can lend a faint tint of light to dulness and ignorance, coming
in its name and place. The good hearer is sure he has been touched
sometimes; is sure there is somewhat to be reached, and some word
that can reach it. When he listens to these vain words, he comforts
himself by their relation to his remembrance of better hours, and so
they clatter and echo unchallenged.

I am not ignorant that when we preach unworthily, it is not
always quite in vain. There is a good ear, in some men, that draws
supplies to virtue out of very indifferent nutriment. There is
poetic truth concealed in all the common-places of prayer and of
sermons, and though foolishly spoken, they may be wisely heard; for,
each is some select expression that broke out in a moment of piety
from some stricken or jubilant soul, and its excellency made it
remembered. The prayers and even the dogmas of our church, are like
the zodiac of Denderah, and the astronomical monuments of the
Hindoos, wholly insulated from anything now extant in the life and
business of the people. They mark the height to which the waters
once rose. But this docility is a check upon the mischief from the
good and devout. In a large portion of the community, the religious
service gives rise to quite other thoughts and emotions. We need not
chide the negligent servant. We are struck with pity, rather, at the
swift retribution of his sloth. Alas for the unhappy man that is
called to stand in the pulpit, and _not_ give bread of life.
Everything that befalls, accuses him. Would he ask contributions for
the missions, foreign or domestic? Instantly his face is suffused
with shame, to propose to his parish, that they should send money a
hundred or a thousand miles, to furnish such poor fare as they have
at home, and would do well to go the hundred or the thousand miles to
escape. Would he urge people to a godly way of living; -- and can he
ask a fellow-creature to come to Sabbath meetings, when he and they
all know what is the poor uttermost they can hope for therein? Will
he invite them privately to the Lord's Supper? He dares not. If no
heart warm this rite, the hollow, dry, creaking formality is too
plain, than that he can face a man of wit and energy, and put the
invitation without terror. In the street, what has he to say to the
bold village blasphemer? The village blasphemer sees fear in the
face, form, and gait of the minister.

Let me not taint the sincerity of this plea by any oversight of