Don’t Be a Preacher – It’s a Cardinal Sin

I’d spent months drafting an initiative to engage the emerging electorate. On my way to her constituency office, I saw the Member of Parliament walking her dog. I jumped out of my van, strolled up bold as can be and asked her if she believed in serendipity. When she said she did, I showed her the large manila envelope in my hand with her name on it. She gave me five minutes to give her my best pitch. It was more than enough time to get her onboard.

Together we cooked up an idea to use culture to create a sense of community in our neighbourhood. It was a fairly low income area of the city, which meant there were lots of artists drawn by the affordable housing, but ironically, there were no art galleries, coffee shops with open mic nights or poetry readings…not even a local pub with live music. We decided to start simple and just organize some house concerts and backyard parties. For the first concert the MP offered her home and I offered to perform.

The night of the concert the first dozen people through the door were very senior, senior citizens. I was suddenly terrified. Seniors and small children have always freaked me out as a performer. I’m never sure if my sense of humour will connect or if my stories will be too risky or my style of music will be offensive. I envisioned a mass of appalled seniors storming out in disgust and the MP watching votes fly out the door, expressing regret at ever getting involved with me.

By showtime the audience was a pretty equal mix of ages, but by that point I’d completely psyched myself out. I nervously decided to explain every song before I played it. I thought if I provided a backstory it would help the elderly endure my artistry.

All in all our first event was considered a smashing success. It was a packed house filled with energetic people who loved being able to celebrate and take pride in their community.

But a couple days later I got a phone call from a neighbour. Bob was a political cartoonist, visual artist and retired United Church minister who lived at the end of my block. Bob invited me down to his place for a glass of wine because he had something he wanted to share with me. A few minutes after arriving, he headed straight for his point with the unerring accuracy of a man with something on his mind.

“As I was walking home after the concert I told my partner you were a preacher,” he said.

It was kind of a weird comment and I wasn’t really sure how to take it. I thought maybe Bob was saying that, as a preacher he saw something of himself in me, and that in some religious way his comment was meant as a compliment. Until he continued, “Rik, a preacher doesn’t trust his audience…a storyteller trusts his audience to make the necessary connections.”

He went on to give specific examples how I’d robbed the poetry, lyrics and the story within each song of its ability to draw people into their own experience and interpretation. As a burgeoning storyteller, artist and activist it was an epiphany. It’s as true in business as it is in art, politics and religion.

Years later as I was writing my book, there were days my fingers flew over the keyboard and my imagination would feel light as a feather. And there were days when it seemed like each key weighed a hundred pounds and every word was excruciating labor. I would take a break to figure out what was wrong, and each time without fail, I’d realize somewhere along the way I’d stopped telling a story and started preaching to my audience, which every reader knows…is the cardinal sin.

Photo Credits

Live Performance © Rik Leaf – All Rights Reserved

The Storyteller © william au photography – All Rights Reserved

Recent Rik Leaf Articles:

• Living Through Christmas Hell
• The Greatest Crime Ever Committed
• Don't Be a Preacher - It's a Cardinal Sin