Word: sermonizer
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...Easter Sunday the church was packed. A cadre of deaconettes -- stately matrons attired in white -- ushered hundreds to their seats, while dozens more stood. The Rev. Dr. Proctor, who will retire in June after 17 years as pastor, raised spirits and rafters with a 45-minute sermon, titled "Believing the % Unbelievable," that addressed issues ranging from Jesus' Resurrection to Joel Steinberg's fall. As 17 souls were baptized in the pool behind the pulpit, the Jewel Thompson choir tore into Take Me to the Water. That joyful noise is the church's heartbeat...
...King's funeral in Atlanta, his truth was marching on. Mourners played a tape of his last sermon. "If any of you are around when I have to meet my day . . . I want you to be able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry . . . that I did try in my life to clothe the naked . . . that I did try in my life to visit those who were in prison . . . that I tried to love and serve humanity." On April 8 in Memphis, 42,000 people walked silently in the march Martin Luther King...
Riverside's elaborate hunt for William Sloane Coffin's successor typifies the method by which most of America's 300,000 Protestant congregations, large and small, find spiritual leaders. Lay members serving on a search committee may spend a year in unpaid toil, scanning l00 dossiers, listening to sermon tapes and making covert scouting expeditions to hear preachers. At Riverside, 5,000 people were asked to submit names and 250 prospects were contacted...
...years ago that a rawboned young Billy delivered his first sermon one cold night before 36 Baptists in Bostwick, Fla. Since then, he has preached in person to upwards of 100 million people, more than any other clergyman in history except perhaps Pope John Paul. With recent appearances in Buffalo, Rochester and Hamilton, Ont., Graham has achieved a remarkable four- decade run of 375 carefully choreographed revival meetings along a civilized sawdust trail...
...Doug to hear, so they head for the family room and pop a cassette into the machine. "Right here -- what's that? What's he saying?" asks the younger man as the tape begins. Doug angles his upper body toward the sound. A black preacher is crying out his sermon, his voice cracking with emotion through line after line, at times shifting to an eerie falsetto high above the drone of his congregation. It's part Motown, part a century or two of brutal noonday toil, and it will raise the hairs on the back of your neck...