This last Sunday, the Doctor and I were pleased to assist at Mass in Front Royal, Virginia, near Christendom College. (We would have checked in advance to see whether Raindear or any of her kin were in the area, but we did not make the decision to stop in Front Royal until late Saturday night.) We were impressed with the size of the congregation at the indult Mass, and with the large number of young children in attendance. We were a bit disappointed, however, to find that it was only a Low Mass (which seemed like a shame this early in the liturgical year; normally sung Masses continue at least until after Pentecost.) I had planned to receive Communion that day, which I had not been able to do in some weeks. Lacking transportation to any better parish, I had been forced to fill my Mass requirement for the previous few weeks at the thoroughly heretical local Novus parish, and I never receive the Blessed Sacrament there. But in the end I abstained from the Angelic Bread on this day also, because I was so overcome with exhaustion during the Mass that I found myself fighting hard just to stay awake. This is not usual for me, and I’m sure it was mostly the result of several days’ worth of packing and carrying and driving. But matters were not helped by the fact that the homily was one of the longest and dullest I’ve heard in quite some time.

I don’t make a habit of attending Protestant services these days, but in my pre-Catholic years, when I was still sampling a variety of churches, I was of the opinion the Protestants were decidedly superior to the Catholics when it came to preaching. To be sure, you run a serious risk of hearing heresy when you attend heretical churches, but at least in some branches of Protestants, preaching is something they really learn how to do. If you’re a reverend, you’re expected to spend considerable time working on your sermon each week. You research it, polish it, practice it if necessary, and make sure that your congregation walks out the doors having learned something. In some of these churches, the effort really shows. I remember one church in South Bend, the Christian Reform Church, in which the minister, Pastor Vander Zee, managed to attract several members of Notre Dame’s philosophy department with his excellent, well-researched, thought-provoking sermons. I loved to hear him speak. For a short space I tried attending his church on Sunday mornings and then, in the evening, going to Mass in my dormitory. But it was hard not to sneer with contempt when Pastor Vander Zee’s riveting sermon was followed up by some priest’s condescending, “God understands when you have a bad hair day. He knows how hard it can be to get along with your roommate.” Oh, please. Most of the time it was obvious that we were hearing some haphazard scribblings from the twenty minutes before Mass. I soon stopped going to that Mass, because it was just about the least uplifting part of my whole week.

Now that I am a Catholic, I am a bit more circumspect about this. I realize now that Catholic priests actually have some good reasons for giving a lower priority to their preaching. Taken in the context of the entire service, a homily really isn’t equivalent to a sermon. A sermon is often the central part of a Protestant service, whereas the homily clearly isn’t the most significant part of the Mass. Furthermore, a parish priest is a teacher only secondarily. His more important function is to minister to his congregation by bringing them the Sacraments; it’s more important that he hear confessions and give Last Rites than that he keep his parishioners spellbound every week with an erudite homily replete with well-turned phrases. Over time I myself became less and less interested in preaching, when I realized that I could learn a lot more through reading. Why hang on the words of some random local priest or minister when a brisk stroll to the library could put me in touch with history’s most brilliant theological minds? That’s more or less how I see things today. If I hear a good homily at Mass, that’s a nice bonus, but it’s really not expected or required.

Still, it is a shame. A lot of people won’t read theology on their own, so homilies are one of their main venues for learning about the Faith. Other time constraints often mandate that homilies remain short, but even six or seven minutes with a captive Catholic audience should be seen as a great opportunity. Seven minutes a week means six and a half hours a year of instruction. That’s enough time to explain a lot of things, if priests would take it upon themselves to make good use of their homilies. I should add, too, that this is one area in which traditional and Novus parishes alike seem to be hurting. An FSSP parish offers the advantage, at least, of not trumpeting heresy from the pulpit. But in terms of the quality of preaching, I haven’t found traditional parishes to be notably superior to Novus ones. There are some exceptions, but in general, I think I’ve sat through as many painful homilies in traditional Masses as I have in Novus ones.

I think there are really two problems. The first is that priests are too busy. There aren’t enough of them and they have too many things to do, so they just don’t have time to write great homilies every week. The second problem is a deficiency of intelligence or talent. Some priests simply aren’t smart enough or eloquent enough to write anything very good. And really, there’s no shame in that. Not every priest needs to be a scholar or an orator; different pastors can bring many different gifts to their parishes. It’s neither necessary nor possible to insist that only the brightest young men be accepted into the priesthood… but the fact is that it takes above-average intelligence to prepare an informative and inspiring message every week. Not everyone can have that. So what can be done about the situation? What would be the best solution for overworked or non-rhetorically-gifted pastors who just aren’t able to write good homilies on their own?

My first suggestion would be: just read something. Surely there are books of great homilies from Catholic saints and doctors of the Church? I almost never hear a priest read an old homily verbatim, but for some it would undoubtedly be a big step up. I see nothing wrong with simply standing up and saying, “This homily was given by St. John Chrysostom to his congregation in 394. Here I go.” And then you read it.

Of course, the downside to that method is that, eventually, people will start to hear the same classic homilies over and over. With two thousand years’ worth of history to draw on, there ought to be enough to stay fresh, but since most people aren’t in a position to research and translate new things all the time, you’re bound to get a lot of repetition. Also, if everyone used this suggested method, we would never hear any commentary specifically directed at issues of particular relevance to our own time or even our own parish. So the best solution might be a middle road. Priests who are severely rhetorically challenged could simply read things every week. Others might read things some of the time, and write their own homilies in other weeks when they have more time or more ideas. Every priest, I think, ought to try to read something specific to the liturgical season or the specific scripture passage before writing or selecting a weekly homily. This practice would enhance his own spiritual life, and would put him in the proper frame of mind for enlightening his congregation. Some priests very obviously do a little private research before preparing their weekly homilies. Others very obviously don’t. The congregation knows.