Chapter 7
He is truly zealous for souls who by holy contemplation and fervent desire, by tears and prayers, by night-watchings and fasts, by preaching and hearing of confessions, by wise counsel, salutary correction, and other good works labors for the salvation of souls.
—St. Albert the Great1
Saint Albert’s great purpose in life, as we have seen, was to lead men to God.
—Maurus M. Niehus, O.P., S.T.L2
In the days of Albert’s youth at the dawn of the 13th century, the quality of preaching was at a low ebb throughout Christendom. The Church was closely intertwined with the feudal system and many of the higher clergy were feudal lords, immersed in managing their worldly affairs, and often of less than impeccable moral integrity. The lower ranking clergy were too often just ignorant. Parish priests were supposed to comment on the Our Father and the Creed each Sunday but preaching would not become a regular and obligatory part of Mass for another three centuries. Preaching was the official province of the bishops, but many of them, so wrapped up in the world, declined to exercise that duty and privilege.
When the Saints Went Marching Out
Enter not one but two saintly men of God. In 1209, a humble former soldier heard a sermon on Matthew 10:9, in which Christ enjoins his 12 disciples to go forth into the world and preach the news of his salvation, taking “no gold, nor silver, nor copper in your belts.” This man became what some would call “a second Christ,” as he assembled his own band of followers embracing poverty and a life of itinerant evangelization. Shortly thereafter, with the blessing of Pope Innocent III, St. Francis of Assisi’s Ordo Fratrum Minorum, the Order of Friars Minor, the Franciscans, had been formed.
It is considered likely that St. Francis himself met another young man on fire for Christ when in 1215 he attended the Fourth Lateran Council in Rome. One of the themes of that council was the need for good preaching, and that young man, Dominic de Guzman, would go on to found a great order of preachers, as known for their learning as were the Franciscans for their poverty. He sought to imitate Christ in his wisdom3 and in his zeal to spread the gospel throughout the world.
It was said that young Dominic was never seen without a book, often the Bible (though later he would sell all his books for the poor), and he knew that the Church was under attack intellectually from various heresies (like the aforementioned Albigensians) as well as by misinterpretations of rediscovered Greek philosophy. He knew that to win men’s hearts to God he had to equip not only his heart with love but his mind with knowledge. He would build on the intellectual treasures amassed by the Benedictine monks in their monasteries and take to the streets, where too often the people lived in sad ignorance of the message of their Saviour.
In 1216, one year after that Fourth Lateran Council in Rome, Pope Honorius III would approve the Ordo Praedicatorum, the Order of Preachers, the Dominicans. As we saw in the last chapter, this was the new order that God led young Albert to join. What better possible match for this young man’s burgeoning powers?
Albert the Great and the Dogs of God
The Dominicans, as we have seen, had two special missions from the start: they were devoted to contemplation and to sharing its fruits with others. A novel characteristic of both new orders (called mendicant orders, since they lived in poverty and begged for their livings) was that they were not bound to one location or one bishop; instead they traveled freely as dictated by need.
There were critics. Some considered scientific and philosophical learning a threat to faith. Others argued against the freedom to travel outside of a parish or cloister, feeling this would allow the devil to snare young religious with worldly temptations. Albert was no doubt aware of the criticisms, just as he was conscious of the potential for secular learning to crowd out the spiritual life. But he was not dissuaded, even when—as one legend tells—a holy monk visited him to try to talk him out of the Dominicans and into cloistered life instead. That “monk,” it turned out, was the devil in disguise.
But what of Albert at the pulpit? What on earth could the most brilliant scientific mind of his age, a man who deduced the spherical shape of the earth by mathematical calculation, a man who corrected Aristotle’s errors, have to say to the common man and woman of the Middle Ages?
Albert’s masterwork as a teacher, St. Thomas Aquinas himself, noted that “a characteristic of one possessing science is his ability to teach.”4 Albert possessed science to an unequalled degree, and with it the matching ability to preach not just on theology but in areas of morality and virtue. Thus we can be sure he had great interest in, and many wise prescriptions for, ordinary people and the practical problems of their daily lives.
Let’s look at a few examples that show Albert’s care and concern for his common neighbors (and his homespun wit as well).
In a famous sermon on the gospel story of Lazarus and Dives, the rich man, St. Albert focuses in on Luke 16:19, where dogs come to lick Lazarus’s sores. It seems that at the time the Dominicans were sometimes popularly referred to as “watchdogs of the Lord” or “hounds of God”—a play on Domini (“of the Lord”) and canes (“dogs”). In his sermon, Albert joins right in the fun (and wisdom): “The roving dogs are the Order of Preachers who do not wait at their homes for the poor but go out to them and lick the ulcers of their sins having in their mouths the bark of preaching…Every good preacher is a living dog because he has the grace of a bark in his preaching, of reproof in his tooth and of healing in the counsel of his tongue.”5 As you can see, despite his brilliance Albert’s sermons were very down to earth—though always pointing toward Heaven! Though he was even then being called “great,” he gently humiliates himself in order to make his message relevant to his listeners. Though a master of the ancient arts of rhetoric, in his sermons he characteristically eschews flashy, ostentatious gimmicks that would draw attention toward himself and away from the gospel.
One favorite predicatory theme of Albert’s was that of medicine and the healing of disease. Since medicine was essentially applied biology, Albert the scientist abounded in medical knowledge for a man of his day, and he put the knowledge to work for spiritual ends as well. He may have also taken inspiration from the Stoic philosophers he knew and loved, who called their philosophies “medicine for men’s minds” and called themselves “healers of souls.” Incarnationally minded in everything he did, Albert’s preaching was, as Father Schwertner put it, “a practical attempt to get at men’s souls through their bodies.”6
Albert’s Art of Prudent Preaching
Though, as we soon will see, Albert’s duties would sometimes draw him away from his teaching, all his life he never ceased preaching. This was why Albert burned with such passion for knowledge of things earthly and divine: so that he might save souls and lead them to Heaven. It is reported that Albert actually prepared a manual on the Art of Preaching, though tragically it has not reached us through the centuries. We do have many of his sermons, though (unfortunately not in readily available English translations), including a series of 32 sermons on the Eucharist that were thought for a time to have been penned by St. Thomas Aquinas.
As for Albert’s preaching style, Fr. Schumpp tells us that he wasn’t “so powerful and eloquent a speaker as Bertold of Ratisbon, his contemporary; nor was his pulpit like that of the latter surrounded by thousands, so that churches could not contain his audiences; his words were simpler, plainer, calmer as is proper for a man of learning.”7 In contrast to his university teaching, where Albert packed in learned men from all over Europe, in his preaching to locals of diverse intellectual capacities and backgrounds Albert tailored his messages to suit. Albert’s simple style was deliberate, his humility outshining his intellectual brilliance when it came to preaching the good news to the masses.
Hear Albert himself in words as homely as they are profound: “The Blessed Virgin Mary wrapped the Word of the Father in humble bands to teach us that the divine Word should be clothed by preachers in simple language rather than in rhetorical.”8 Indeed, to see that the master’s greatest pupil had absorbed a similar lesson, I suggest that you compare St. Thomas’s awesome and scholarly Summa Theologica to his delightfully clear and simple sermons.9
When Albert preached, it was never all about self-aggrandizement— it was about humbly and faithfully communicating the gospel. Nonetheless, his preaching exploits were not without their own legends. One tale was told by the citizens of Ratisbon, centuries after Albert’s time, that when a heretical preacher attempted to deliver a sermon from a pulpit he had once occupied, he was instantly struck dumb and did not regain his voice until he had moved to another pulpit.
Such was Albert’s reputation for spiritual wisdom that one time even Brother Bertold went to him for spiritual advice, asking, “What Christian work is most pleasing to God?” Whereupon Albert replied, “If one sees his fellow-man in great labor and distress and consoles him by word and work and assists him as much as possible, that before God, is the most pleasing work a man can perform.”10 This calls to my mind the parable of the Good Samaritan. He who would inherit eternal life must love the Lord with all his heart, soul, strength, and mind, and his neighbor as himself. This love of the neighbor is shown not only by good wishes but also by good deeds, or as St. John had put it, “Let us not love in word or speech but in deed and truth.”11
Albert’s sermons were abundant in references to scripture, assuming a familiarity with the Bible in his educated lay listeners—centuries before the invention of the printing press—that might give us a start today. In remarking on a collection of his sermons intended as examples, Albert described them as “ordered and based on Holy Scriptures, a whole harvest of sermons could be produced, God willing. There could be found now in one place, now in another, material for strengthening faith, directing souls in the Christian life, and nourishing their devotions.”12
Albert’s sermons on the gospels, on the saints, and on other topics were elegant, simple, direct, and informative; they enlightened the mind and inspired the flesh to action. They typically consisted of three parts:
We can clearly see, then, that the Albertine homily was neither an academic discourse nor a shallow excursion but a swift and direct course to knowledge and illumination, along with means for remembering its message and putting it into action. In Albert’s own words, “The preacher must take what matter suits him [on each subject.] He should limit himself to developing one or two points and leave the rest to another time.”13
Albert’s Lesson for Today’s Homilist
St. Albert would surely have much to teach those who preach in our modern-day parishes. As a visitor to many lands and a preacher to persons from all walks of life, he’d have much to say about the necessity of tailoring sermons to suit the needs and abilities of the audience. As a memory master he could certainly share tips and tricks for helping listeners to absorb what they’re hearing and recall it later. But perhaps above all, Albert could teach modern priests and deacons how to communicate the glory and grandeur of the Faith, how never to downplay or be ashamed of the truths of the Church. Albert knew how to reach people “where they were,” but he also knew he had to inspire them to become more than they were, to challenge them with the gospel to grow wiser and holier. He knew that to be a preacher is to be God’s instrument—a high and humbling calling.
Great Idea #7: Evangelization
The four evangelists tell us that after Christ’s death and Resurrection, and before his Ascension into Heaven, he issued a great call to Peter and the disciples to feed his sheep, to make new disciples, and to spread the good news of his life and his works for our salvation unto all the nations, indeed unto all of creation.
There is a sense in which all of Christ’s disciples are called to be evangelists, to spread the good news of Christ through our words and our actions. Still, we are blessed to have “specialists” in this field. We’ve seen, for example, how the medieval Franciscans and Dominicans took to heart this call to preach and spread the gospel. In modern times, we have coined the phrase “televangelists” for preachers who spread the news far and wide through the means of television. The word television itself is one of those odd Greek-Latin combinations—from the Greek tele, meaning “at a distance,” and the Latin videre, meaning “to see.”
Speaking of televangelists, it occurs to me that there are great similarities between St. Albert and a modern evangelist who is currently on the road to sainthood. This man was also a learned professor—in fact his knowledge of the great scholastics and their perennial philosophy and wisdom about the nature of mankind enabled him to point out to the modern masses the pitfalls of godless systems of psychology and politics like Freudian psychiatry and Marxist Communism. This wonderful preacher also had a special devotion to Mary, and he too was a bishop. He influenced me in my youth and many others to this day. I’m talking of course about the perhaps future Saint Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen.