Mass Talks 12: The Sermon & Creed

There are several instances when our Lord assumed the role of a rabbi and delivered sermons based upon passages from the Old Testament. The most sublime of these is His commentary known to us as the Sermon on the Mount where He amplified and corrected the interpretation of some texts. At another time, in a synagogue service, after a reading from Isaiah, our Lord began a sermon that greatly pleased his audience–at least for a while. The last example that comes to mind was the Gospel passage from last Sunday’s Mass wherein the risen but as yet unidentified Jesus walked along a road with his disciples explaining Old Testament texts that referred to Himself.

Giving a sermon or a homily originated in synagogue worship. It was the duty of the rabbi, as the official teacher, to explain what may have been obscure in the Scriptures, to apply them to present circumstances, to offer moral exhortation, and to teach the truths of faith. In the Christian Church this tradition persisted in the preaching of the apostles, and of those bishops and priests whom the Church commissioned. Preaching is not the same as giving a talk on a religious subject, or even, the offering of a moral lesson. It’s a duty of someone who has been commissioned, sent by the Church; one who has apostolic authority to do this. “As the Father sent me,” our Lord said, “so do I send you.” It therefore happens that laity, no matter how gifted or learned they may be, may give the sermon or homily at Mass. Indeed, from a purely natural point of view, some among them may be better suited for this purpose than many priests. But one should view the matter from above, from a supernatural view, recognizing that the priest is a man “sent” by God for the mission of saving souls, part and parcel of which is his duty to teach and edify the faithful.

The history of the Catholic Church has an imposing roster of great sermon-givers. One thinks, for example of the sermons of the Fathers of the Church such as St. John Chrysostom, St. Augustine, of the two Popes “the Great,” Leo and Gregory, and of some stirring sermons of the saints (Alphonsus and John Vianney come readily to mind). This was a true art-form that owed not merely to mastery of theology and the bible, but also to the art of rhetoric, of public speaking, once a designated study for any educated man. Alas! this science has fallen into near desuetude in our day and the technique of rousing and moving a congregation through eloquent words, gestures and vocal inflection, has been largely forgotten. Although there are still a few gifted orators in the Church, that once cultivated art of preaching is rarely to be found today. Among the most common complaints of Catholic people is the poor quality of the Sunday sermon. There are reasons for this beyond the mere desertion of the arts of rhetoric, however. Sermons now too often lack significant doctrinal content, the meaty substance that gives nourishment to the mind, and “feeds” the soul by building up the faith. All too often, sermons have become either a rehashing of the Scriptures just heard (which is, I would think, insulting the intellectual capabilities of the congregation), or else they devolve some well-worn cliches about loving our neighbor or about ‘putting our faith into action.’ This is a real impoverishment and our people are being starved for want of Catholic truth.

Catholic preaching is in at least one sense different from Protestant preaching because, for us, the Liturgy of the Word, important though it is, is not the highpoint of the Mass, but rather a preparation for the Holy Eucharist. So our sermons, of whatever quality, have not the same emphasis for us Catholic as they might have for Protestants. While we might all wish sermons to be better prepared, reflecting a higher degree erudition and more persuasive in emotive power, yet for us preaching remains the mere handmaiden of what follows. This ought to be a humble reminder to the priest that his sermon is to lead his hearers to Christ and not to himself.

I also want to speak about the Creed that follows the homily. I’m not going to attempt to explain all the articles of faith contained in it. The Creed used at Mass is the so-called Nicene Creed, taking its name from ancient Nicaea where a Church Council in 325 combatted the Arian heresy that had dared to propose that Christ was not divine, sharing the same substance as the Father. There are many official creeds in use by the Church (sometimes called “symbols of the faith”). The Apostles Creed is the most popular of these. The Nicene Creed is obligatory for recitation at all Masses on Sundays and solemnities. It is therefore not at the discretion of the priest to forego it. This Creed encapsulates all the main tenets of the Catholic faith. It is decisively Trinitarian. Just a brief glance at it shows that the Father is given relatively brief attention. This is because the principal focus of the time of its composition was the identity of Jesus Christ, as true God begotten of God the Father, one in substance with the Father, who became incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary. At the mention of these words, when God “came down” in becoming man, we are bid to bow low: a posture of humility before this awesome mystery. Formerly, in the Tridentine Mass, we were to genuflect or kneel at these words. Now this is reserved only for March 25, the day of the Incarnation, and Christmas day. The final part of the Creed speaks of faith in the Holy Spirit, the Catholic Church, and the world to come.

I have mentioned more than once that the English translations used for Mass are undergoing revision and betterment. The Creed too will benefit from this restoration when it returns to the nominative singular, Credo, “I believe” rather than the plural “we believe” which, for the gain of unanimity, drowned one’s personal confession of faith in a sea of anonymity.

I close with words from the Council of Toledo, Spain, of the year 589:

Let the Creed resound, so that the true faith may be declared in song, and that the souls of believers, in accepting that faith, may be ready to partake, in Communion, of the body and blood of Christ.

If, as Saint Paul says (Rm 10:10), confessing the faith with one’s lips leads to salvation, we ought then to stand proudly / and recite loudly / this Profession of Faith.