When I was doing research in Milan, time spent with the barista each morning, before heading over to one of the churches and baptisteries associated with St. Ambrose, was a “sacramental” experience for me. I believe the same can be said of preachers and presiding ministers, and ideally, those who teach them.
The best espresso should be extraordinarily sweet, have a potent aroma, and flavor similar to freshly ground coffee. The crema should be dark reddish-brown and smooth, yet thick. A perfect espresso should be enjoyable straight with no additives, yet bold enough to not disappear in milk. A pleasant and aromatic aftertaste should linger on the palate for several minutes after consumption. This wonderful drink is prepared and served graciously, welcomingly, and hospitably. As I reflect upon espresso, my mind immediately turns to the ways this description of espresso is a fitting metaphor for a good sermon. Simply insert “sermon” for “espresso” and “gospel” for “crema.”
Like preaching, espresso preparation is an art that demands the precision and dedication of science. Whereas the preacher must understand and balance variables including the preacher and the listeners, Scripture and the context, the occasion and delivery, and the presence (or absence) of the Spirit, and the teacher of preaching must teach students to understand and balance these variables, the barista must understand and balance the blend, roast, and grind of the espresso, the distribution and tamp of the coffee in the portafiller, the quality, temperature and pressure of the water, the timeliness of the extraction and the temperature of the cup. Factor in milk for cappuccinos and lattes, and things get even more complicated. Moreover, the barista is an artist like the preacher in that “delivery” is essential to the experience. While a painter is an artist whose finished product is evidence of his or her talent, a barista with great skills, one that is a real artist, is like a preacher in that it is difficult to appreciate her or his artistry unless you can see that person at work.
Rationale
As a preacher of international reputation and an established homiletician, balancing the “variables” in preaching has become second nature to me. I expect that becoming a “student” of the art of making espresso will help me rediscover the complexity, uncertainty, and need for trial-and-error that my students experience. I post to my blog and invite reflections on what I write. In addition to rediscovering what it is to be a student, I expect that my “performance” at the coffee bar will lead me to reflect on my “performance” in the pulpit, at the altar, and in the classroom. An espresso prepared and served painstakingly, inhospitably, or tentatively diminishes the taste. This is equally true for preaching, presiding, and teaching. Making espresso, preaching, presiding and teaching are all “ritual acts.”
Initial questions for my own reflection and the reflection of others:
• In what ways is an espresso (cappuccino, latte) an appropriate metaphor for a sermon?
• How does a “method” of preparing espresso inform a “method” of sermon preparation, and vice versa?
• How does my experience of learning to make espresso inform my teaching of preaching? How is the experience of watching a barista prepare a coffee drink and then receiving it inform preaching and presiding and the way we teach it?
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