I have been a professional writer for nearly 40 years and have been giving speeches and appearing occasionally on television for two decades. Since 2004, off and on, I have recorded a weekly audio commentary on the entertainment business, broadcast for the first 16 years on Los Angeles public radio, then independently as a podcast. But on Sunday morning, I’ll be branching out into a new line of business.
I’ll be delivering a sermon.
Part of my education here at Princeton Theological Seminary is training in the practical requirements of pastoral care. So on Sunday, I’ll climb the pulpit in a local church and deliver a 10-ish minute sermon that ideally touches on the themes present in that day’s readings. The lectionary for the Episcopal Church is splendidly predictable — it’s the season of Advent, so there’s a snippet from Isaiah, plus some New Testament readings that cover the big idea of the season: waiting, patience, the promise of the world to come, that sort of stuff.
Theologically, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it covered. I’ve got my key idea clear, I’ve addressed the day’s readings in a fresh and unexpected way — it’s important to give them something new to think about — and after my decades of training on podcasts and the radio, I know exactly how to wrap it all up by minute 11.
My big remaining question is, how funny should I make it? My instinct, after making my living as a comedy writer, is to bring out my best material. One possible template is: joke, funny story, religious material, joke, personally revealing anecdote, religious material, joke, joke, wrap it up, amen. But I’m aware that the pulpit isn’t a place, perhaps, to go for the big laughs. And also, I’m not sure how much there is to work with, material-wise. In the reading from Isaiah, for instance, there’s a part that says “the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp,” and I’m at a loss trying to sort out the punchline to that set-up.
Another problem: I’m aware that many people in the pews will know that I come from the world of television comedy scripts — some might even be fans of Cheers, which is my most well-known credit — and they may show up with high expectations for some hearty guffaws. We’ve all had the experience of going to a movie or watching a TV show that one of our friends has recommended (“You gotta see this! It’s hilarious! It’s so funny! Get ready to roll in the aisles!”), which is a surefire way to squash whatever mirth or amusement might be possible.
On the other hand, I don’t want to steer away from my core competence. It’s tempting to think, “Hey, I know people expect the funny, so they’re going to get the serious and the sad,” but that would be an inauthentic avenue to go down, in addition to being eye-wateringly boring. Nothing is worse than a funny person trying to be serious.
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What I’ve decided to go for is a kind of knowing chuckle, a way to connect with the audience with a wry observation or two, an acknowledgment that we’re all flawed people awaiting God’s arrival and grace, and a sense that Advent is supposedto be about joy — well, all of it is about joy, in a way — and that with joy comes laughter. My big theological point is going to be that we usually think of Advent as a time when we’re meant to wait patiently for Him, but the truth is that He’s already here and has been here all along. We’re the ones who are running late. Advent is a time when we’re called to ask, “Who is waiting for whom?”
I know, I know: it probably needs a punch-up. Navigating the course between too funny and too serious is going to be tricky, and I dread those awkward moments when the reviews come out, which will happen at the end of the service as the parishioners are walking out of the church, shaking hands with the clergy along the way. I’ll be able to see it in their eyes and in the way they greet me — I’ve had good and bad reviews before; I know what to look for to find out if I’ve hit or missed the mark. And the worst part is that I won’t be able to go back later and add more laughs to the track. That’s the problem with sermons — they’re all one-take deals.
Rob Long is a television writer and producer, including as a screenwriter and executive producer on Cheers, and the cofounder of Ricochet.com.
