I’m unsure whether to shiver or to laugh when I recall Anthony Trollope’s witty sarcasm in his novel Barchester Towers: “There is no greater hardship inflicted on mankind than the necessity of listening to sermons. No one but a preacher has the power of compelling an audience to sit silent and be tormented with platitudes… He is the bore of the age, disturbing our Sunday rest.”

There is no greater peculiarity about church than the fact that we come week after week and listen to someone talk about God and Bible and things that matter. Is there anyone else you listen to talking about for 15-20 minutes week after week? Preachers dare to speak for God, and listeners are just daffy enough to think they might actually hear what God’s saying to them and to the world.

What’s at stake? Not whether the preacher is entertaining, or funny, or boring, and it shouldn’t be whether the preacher says things that agree with my biases or my political inclinations. The question is “Is there any word from the Lord?” (Jeremiah 37:17). We who preach do our best. Those who listen are wise to listen for it, maybe despite the preacher’s words or listening between the lines.

I love Barbara Brown Taylor’s image that the preacher is like Cyrano de Bergerac, supplying the words and passing notes between two would-be lovers. I like to think of the preacher (myself in this case!) as a docent in an art museum. Don’t look at me. I’m pointing to something beautiful and mind-boggling. Look with me where I’m pointing.

Years ago I led a little workshop called “How to listen to sermons.” It’s not all on the preacher to be clever. Can we be clever, faithful listeners? Where is your mind when the sermon begins? Are you distracted? Have you been listening all week for God’s words, in Bible reading and prayer, so you’re in the habit of being a listener for God’s words? Can you take a deep breath and join young Samuel by uttering “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening” (1 Samuel 3:10)?

I worry about shrinking attention spans, given our addiction to screens and gadgets. I worry even more than when you’re not in church, you are bombarded with constant talk that is superficial, worldly, silly and mean. I suspect the Church is responsible for reminding all of us how to talk – about God, even about anything. Can we learn from hearing words in worship how to frame our own words so that they are encouraging and not belittling, meaningful and not sophomoric, wise and not just cute? Some preachers, about to begin the sermon, pray Psalm 19:14: “Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O God.” Could that be a prayer we all pray all week long?

When we talk, do we always tell the truth? Do we follow the Bonhoeffer rule never to speak of someone who is not present – or the Howell improvement upon the Bonhoeffer rule, never to speak of someone not present unless you are praising them?

When we speak of God – if we speak of God! – are we humble, and genuine, even hopeful? We need to find others with whom we can speak of God – best done by stories and experiences, not dogmatic declarations. Church should be a place not only to listen to sermons, but to speak openly about our dreams, learnings, and confusions about God.

We should try never to marginalize somebody else. If you say “God blessed us with 7 grandchildren” you’re saying that in earshot of someone grieving never having any. Speak of them, of course, but humbly and charitably. The best Christian talkers are, like Jesus, stellar listeners. Instead of saying “I know how you feel,” try “Tell me: how do you feel?” If someone has suffered loss, avoid the pithy half-truths, like “He’s in a better place” or “Everything happens for a reason.” Instead, keep it simple: “I am praying for you.” “I love you.” “I will be here with you.” – the things Jesus said, after all.