In the introduction to his famous Lend Me Your Ears Max Atkinson reflects on the failure of the “industry standard” model for public speaking: the slide-presentation, which has found its apotheosis in Power Point (a registered trademark of Microsoft, and other similar programs of other trademarks). The curious observation he makes is how it has persisted as the “industry standard”, without which no one knows how to present, while also being almost universally abhorred by audiences and failing almost every metric for usefulness in conveying information. Why has such a failed technique continued in its unquestioned dominion over public speaking? Why have we gotten away from the simple, learnable, and meaningful skills of public speech in which a person holds the attention of an audience with little more than excellent speaking?
The answer to this question, Atkinson doesn’t quite give us. Perhaps there is no answer to be given, for the “mystery of iniquity is already at work” after all (2 Thess. 2:7), and humans persist in all manner of unprofitable things, just as dogs return to the refuse (Prov. 26:11).
I, however, want to hold-out the example of the Slide-show presentation to ask another question: what in the practice of ministry in our culture has become something of a problematic “industry standard” while also failing all metrics of gospel-fruitfulness? And while there may be a great host of possible answers, I want to aim my sights on one: the general pastoral reluctance to visit and pray over the homes of the local parish. Pastors, taken as a lump sum, have gravitated away from the simple practices of shepherding and towards all kids of ineffective techne whose authority remains unquestioned despite the ever mountaining evidence against it. When did the average pastor stop considering it his duty to regularly, at least annually, visit the homes of his parish?
Historically this happened no less than once a year. At Epiphany the priest(s) would make their way around the homes of the parish, drive-out darkness, bestow a blessing, hedge it with the Name of the Triune God, and meet with the family in the dwelling they called their own. The visible representative of the Church came into their home with the blessing of peace. This is a good practice, and I commend it to all my brothers in ministry of every tradition. Visit the homes of your parish, go into the messy lives and dwellings of those who listen to your sermons, and invoke the blessing of Almighty God.
Many of the new-fangled technics of ministry, though some are helpful, often to me seem in the final analysis mere defenses against such simple pastoral practices. Like good public speaking, an Epiphany house-blessing has no secrets —any ordained elder can do it: “Whatever house you enter, begin by saying, ‘Peace to this house’” (Luke 10:5).