Elvis Presley would have turned 75 on January 8. His former wife said that if he were alive today he might be a preacher:
<blockquote>“I think Elvis would always be a part of music, no matter what,” Priscilla Presley told TODAY’s Matt Lauer Friday from the King’s Graceland home in Memphis. “It was in his blood. I don’t know if he’d be doing rock ’n’ roll right now; I think that maybe he’d be going into gospel. Maybe even preaching a little bit. He loved to teach and loved the Bible. He always would have been dedicated to his music, that’s for sure.</blockquote>
This tells us something not just about Elvis–of whom I count myself as a fan–but of at least a certain type of preacher. There is something of Elvis in a lot of celebrity, television, and megachurch preachers, is there not? A big element of performance, getting up before all those people and trying to connect with them by the force of his expressive personality. Do you regular pastors feel this, or feel you need to resist this? I suppose getting up in a pulpit is sort of like putting on an act, putting on an office that you as a mere mortal are privileged to fill. I would think, though, that you are not expressing yourself, as Elvis did so well, but rather expressing Christ, whose Word you are proclaiming.
What can we learn about vocation from the thought of Elvis as preacher?
via Priscilla Presley: Elvis would be preaching now – TODAY Entertainment.
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
“Do you regular pastors feel this?”
I would not say that there is an element of performance–at least once you get beyond the initial learning and begin to understand the vocation–so much as an element of celebrity. It takes place not in the glamorization of public “performance,” but more so in the smaller things. You can never stop being “pastor.” It is an identity more than a job. Perhaps that is a part of understanding vocation.
The vocation of a pastor is a strange paradox in many ways. They are expected to be both meek and bold. They are expected to walk in humility, and yet they are honored. They face contempt, and yet they are celebrities. They are unimpressive, at least for the most part, and yet they are entrusted with the care of souls.
I’m not sure that Elvis “doing a little preaching” would capture much insight into the vocation of pastor. To the contrary, it seems rather inconsistent; more like a dabbling in vocation in an attempt to find a deeper identity.
Undoubtedly for some pastors there *is* a bit of Elvis–the pageantry, the performance, the celebrity . . . though hopefully not the hip gyrations. I can’t say I’ve ever been *treated* like a celebrity, except maybe for the stalking part, people invading what little privacy I thought I had.
As for the preaching part, I’ve always been to on-edge when I preach to try to put my own personality out there. In fact, as I imagine you already know, we wear vestments precisely to hide themselves so that Christ can be the center of attention when we preach. I’ve given serious thought to wearing a cassock on Sunday mornings outside of the Divine Service to further that image.
I often get to eat first at potlucks and I’m always asked to pray (At family events I wish people would ask the oldest or most respected Christian man in the family instead). In our early childhood center we constantly have to remind the new children that I’m “pastor” not “Jesus”. This sort of “celebrity” status is certainly par for the course. And the view that the preacher somehow needs to hide his personality in the pulpit, well, I don’t agree with that. Hopefully Christ hides what needs hidden behind the Word of forgiveness that the pastor lives and serves.
I would love a cassock and surplus, for the Divine Service, but I haven’t got around to replacing my albs yet. Personally, Alan, I don’t think I would wear the cassock outside of the Liturgy.
Anything that speaks of “I” or “me” or “mine” should not be shining forth from the pulpit. If people are coming to church to see or hear *me* preach, then they’re coming for the wrong reason. And if they’re staying away because it’s me who is preaching, it’s not me they are insulting, but Christ. If people want to hear a powerful speaker whose personality shows forth when he speaks, by all means, they’re welcome to watch Joel Osteen perform. If they want Christ and Him crucified, well, they will get that even with my stammering for twelve minutes.
The cassock is just an extension of the clerical shirt. It is not historically a strictly liturgical garment. It would be covered with a surplice for the prayer offices.
One saturday evening I visited Saddleback t observe. When Rick Warren came out to greet the congregation (he was not preaching) he was definately treated as a celebrity. People were hooting and hollering, shouting and making gestures like you would expect at a ball game or a rock concert. I don’t know if this is normal or just because he had been gone for a while. He looked a little taken back with it. I was kind of offended by the level of exuberance.
Afterwards though he was in the church courtyard and people did not hound him. So I am not sure what to make of the display inside. It did seem like he was being treated as a celebrity rather then a Christian pastor.
I’m not so sure that “celebrity” and “pastor” are diametrically opposed. Celebrity can certainly impinge upon the work of a pastor, but having a pastor who is famous is not something wrong. Think of Peter – he was so famous that throngs of people would gather wherever he went (at least for a while).
People will respond to fame in pretty similar ways – Graham, Warren, Schaeffer, Edwards, Whitefield, Sproul, Piper, etc. Fame attracts a following of personality. That’s not always a good thing, but it happens. It’s what the person does with the fame that matters much more.
Fame also happens in small circles – small churches have their own version of celebrity status that can be attached to a pastor or elder. Fame happens.
I think a lot of pastors are tempted to play to the crowd, and this happens when they try to be funny, and improvise, and go off on long digressions about what is going on in his personal life.
For one thing, few parish pastors have the talent or charisma of a Warren or Osteen, but they are convinced that it is the personality of the pastor that leads to church growth.
More importantly, I’m not there to see the pastor, but the One who sent him. His jokes and folksy asides are an annoying distraction.
The best pastors I know are focussed on faithfulness to the liturgy and clear, strong, law-and-gospel preaching. Naturally, the man’s personality and style will be reflected in these and he need not to hide himself too much. But when a pastor concentrates on the essentials, humor and passion will naturally emerge in an appropriate way.