A Memorable Audio-visual Sermon | Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Simon Ponsonby’s Butcher Sermon

(An archive post)

Gustav Caillebotte

Simon Ponsonby’s Butcher Sermon

Sunday 6th June, 2010

Here was the text, James 3. ¹Not many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly. ²We all stumble in many ways. If anyone is never at fault in what he says, he is a perfect man, able to keep his whole body in check.

³When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal.⁴Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go. ⁵Likewise the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. ⁶The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

⁷All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and creatures of the sea are being tamed and have been tamed by man, ⁸but no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.

⁹With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God’s likeness. ¹⁰Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be.¹¹Can both fresh water and salt^[a] water flow from the same spring? ¹²My brothers, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water.

Just before the reading, a young woman came up to describe an image she said she saw. It was odd, a lion with a heart in its mouth. Embarrassed, she guessed at an interpretation (but no interpretation can match the power of an image or metaphor.)

Simon Ponsonby was so overcome by this that he felt unable to preach his sermon, which, ominously for anyone foolhardy enough to pick the passage, began with “Not many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.”

He preached with authority, sincerity, rhetorical power–and wow! (to go with the above)–brevity. He was a butcher, he said, and went on to prove it.

Leaning over, he pulled out a massive ox’s tongue, which he lovingly handled, caressing its cartilage, fat and gristle. An unbeautiful thing, black-streaked. Eee-ooh, the congregation gasped.

Ponsonby said, “You think this is ugly. But this is tongue that has never lied, never cut someone else down, never puffed itself up, never exaggerated, never praised God and then slagged off the vicar!!, never abused, never cursed, never deeply wounded another.”

“From the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. Salt springs cannot bring forth fresh water.” Dentists, he said, can assess an individual’s health by looking at the tongue.

He then went on to the lovely injunction in Col. 4:6 “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt.”

Grace, in koine Greek was Charis–gifts, benefits, favours. So, let your speech be full of gifts, benefits, and favours. And seasoned with salt, savoury.

“Jesus was generous,” Ponsonby said, “when he opened his mouth, gifts came forth.”

He went on to say that we ourselves would be healed and blessed if our tongue spoke blessings.

The whole thing was over in 5 minutes max.

Visibly overcome, he sat down and asked us to use the 40 minutes to reflect and repent in silence on our speech and our hearts.

God willing, Simon Ponsonby’s multi-sensory sermon will stay with us for a while.

May it be so, Lord.