A Sermon (n.) on spreading the faith ends: "Not just we priests — all of you must labor so!" How, it never says; the priest mops his brow, and the congregation mops theirs at the mere thought of having turned missionary.
A Sermon (n.) is the religious man's monologue: concerned solely about himself, he talks aloud — that is what preaching is; he owes his hearer nothing, for his task is to save himself.
A Sermon (n.) heard rightly is you speaking with yourself through the preacher's voice; what he says to you only you know.
A Sermon (n.) today is like a joke told by the man who forgot the point: the story of the marvellous is told, and no one wonders.
A Sermon (n.) that never says who "we" are is as inane as travelling from Copenhagen to Jerusalem on the map.
A Sermon (n.) that scolds bad Christians is feigned emotion: everyone listening is a Christian, and the sinners it denounces are not in the room.