Opening lines:
Jan. 2nd, 2008 08:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fancycwabsI'm in the process of reading Steve Martin's memoir of his early years, Born Standing Up, where he talks about the best opening lines he'd ever heard, and I thought I'd share my own best opening line.
When I was seventeen, just graduated from high school, our small church had a "youth Sunday" where youth (or youth-oriented folks) were supposed to participate in the Sunday service, singing in the choir, leading the music, etc. The morning sermon was delivered by an itinerant youth-oriented pastor, but the evening's sermon (Baptist--we had morning AND evening services on Sunday) fell to one seventeen-year-old Fancycwabs, who'd considered various scriptures to preach from and decided that he would go from John 21, where Jesus keeps telling Peter to "feed his sheep." My message was that, as Christians, we don't often pay attention to the instructions explicitly spelled out about loving our neighbors, etc. and still do our own selfish thing in spite of various Biblical admonitions otherwise.
That's not the point, of course. The point is that I, in my one and only sermon, accidentally delivered the best opening stand-up line ever devised--which only works in church. And absolutely KILLED that night, which probably distracted from my overall message of tolerance and goodwill.
Picture if you will, Gulf Hills Baptist Church in Mobile, Alabama: Sunday morning attendance somewhere between 150-200 and Sunday evening attendance bordering somewhere in the 60s, sanctuary can seat 300-400 comfortably. We've sung a number of hymns, as is the tradition (morning service gets maybe three hymns, evening service 4-5). The biggest congregation I've ever seen for an evening service (maybe my imagination, or a lofty memory, but I'm thinking we might have had a congregation of 80 that night) has shown up to hear me preach, and they've just passed the collection plate, to which almost nobody has contributed (most, if not all of them, contributed in the morning service, if at all).
I should note that our pastor, while an effective minister, wasn't really a great orator. I normally ran the sound system from a hidden alcove beside the organ, and occupied my time during sermons reading from the books of the Bible that mentioned great Cthulhu-like earth-devouring monsters, Daniel and Job. I didn't think the congregation would find descriptions of many-horned beasts destroying kingdoms as interesting as I did as a teenager, however, and stuck to the gospels for my topic.
I was probably the most nervous I've ever been up to that point in my life, getting ready to speak in front of 80 folks who've known my dad (the minster of music) since I was six. I've given my topic some thought, but I was working from the faintest of notes and mostly off-the-cuff, figuring the spirit would strike me and allow me to do whatever it is preachers do.
With no small amount of trepidation, I approached the pulpit.
"Hi," I said. "How many of you came here tonight just to hear me?"
Probably three-quarters of the congregation raised their hands.
"Well, I hope you get your money's worth."
The roar of laughter that followed set the tone for the remainder of my ten-minute (if that) sermon, which was punctuated my more laughter than anything--and I can't remember another word I said. I didn't win anybody to the cause of Christ that night, and hadn't thought I'd made much of an impression at all, until the day the pastor moved from that church to another church in Birmingham, and at his farewell reception repeated the exact same joke, which didn't get a laugh (it helps to have collected the offering mere seconds before).
When I was seventeen, just graduated from high school, our small church had a "youth Sunday" where youth (or youth-oriented folks) were supposed to participate in the Sunday service, singing in the choir, leading the music, etc. The morning sermon was delivered by an itinerant youth-oriented pastor, but the evening's sermon (Baptist--we had morning AND evening services on Sunday) fell to one seventeen-year-old Fancycwabs, who'd considered various scriptures to preach from and decided that he would go from John 21, where Jesus keeps telling Peter to "feed his sheep." My message was that, as Christians, we don't often pay attention to the instructions explicitly spelled out about loving our neighbors, etc. and still do our own selfish thing in spite of various Biblical admonitions otherwise.
That's not the point, of course. The point is that I, in my one and only sermon, accidentally delivered the best opening stand-up line ever devised--which only works in church. And absolutely KILLED that night, which probably distracted from my overall message of tolerance and goodwill.
Picture if you will, Gulf Hills Baptist Church in Mobile, Alabama: Sunday morning attendance somewhere between 150-200 and Sunday evening attendance bordering somewhere in the 60s, sanctuary can seat 300-400 comfortably. We've sung a number of hymns, as is the tradition (morning service gets maybe three hymns, evening service 4-5). The biggest congregation I've ever seen for an evening service (maybe my imagination, or a lofty memory, but I'm thinking we might have had a congregation of 80 that night) has shown up to hear me preach, and they've just passed the collection plate, to which almost nobody has contributed (most, if not all of them, contributed in the morning service, if at all).
I should note that our pastor, while an effective minister, wasn't really a great orator. I normally ran the sound system from a hidden alcove beside the organ, and occupied my time during sermons reading from the books of the Bible that mentioned great Cthulhu-like earth-devouring monsters, Daniel and Job. I didn't think the congregation would find descriptions of many-horned beasts destroying kingdoms as interesting as I did as a teenager, however, and stuck to the gospels for my topic.
I was probably the most nervous I've ever been up to that point in my life, getting ready to speak in front of 80 folks who've known my dad (the minster of music) since I was six. I've given my topic some thought, but I was working from the faintest of notes and mostly off-the-cuff, figuring the spirit would strike me and allow me to do whatever it is preachers do.
With no small amount of trepidation, I approached the pulpit.
"Hi," I said. "How many of you came here tonight just to hear me?"
Probably three-quarters of the congregation raised their hands.
"Well, I hope you get your money's worth."
The roar of laughter that followed set the tone for the remainder of my ten-minute (if that) sermon, which was punctuated my more laughter than anything--and I can't remember another word I said. I didn't win anybody to the cause of Christ that night, and hadn't thought I'd made much of an impression at all, until the day the pastor moved from that church to another church in Birmingham, and at his farewell reception repeated the exact same joke, which didn't get a laugh (it helps to have collected the offering mere seconds before).
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no subject
Date: 2008-01-03 03:19 am (UTC)Here's a funny for you...we went to church a while back and had nothing to put in the plate to which the younger of your nieces got very nervous and asked if they were going to kick us out. We answered, "not today."
no subject
Date: 2008-01-03 03:20 am (UTC)(I was actually hoping you might be able to fill in some details--beyond the opening line, that whole event is a complete blur to me)
no subject
Date: 2008-01-03 03:32 am (UTC)I don't even remember what I did, which I am sure I did something, as would have been insisted upon, but I was (am still) a girl and in those days we were only allowed to sing in the choir and play the piano or organ.
I remember being proud of you. I remember thinking that it took some guts to get up there.