A Life in Sermons: RBL Talks With Frederick Buechner

Secrets in the Dark is an anthology of sermons, mostly in chronological order. When you read your earliest sermons, what do you find most intriguing?

The memories that are dredged up, especially around the sermons I wrote in the 1960s [while chaplain of a boys' school]. Kids back then were against almost everything, especially religion, which made preaching to them scary. But it was also rewarding because you had to be sharp, never sentimental or sloppy.

Did you make many changes to the sermons for this book?

The only significant changes I made involved language. I wrote many of these sermons before "political correctness" was a concept. Also, the Cold War and fear of the imminent possibility of nuclear annihilation figured into many of the earlier sermons. Some of that was left in and some of it changed.

Which is your favorite sermon in the collection?

That's hard to say. The image of the Cuban laurel tree in the sermon "Secrets in the Dark" is a favorite memory of my time in Florida. I draw power from the faithfulness of this tree, which puts out wonderful air roots even though it is on its last leg.

In "The Calling of Voices," you talk about what has become one of your most famous sayings, that our call from God is where "our deep gladness meets the world's deep need." Have you been surprised by the way people isolate bits of your writing and find words to live by?

Well, I don't know how aware I am of that. It pleases me very much that people still find life and meaning in words spoken by me so long ago. Gladness is many times the last thing you think about in terms of life's work. Lots of people tell you to make money, do your duty, be responsible—all of which are important. But if you leave out gladness, you have a dreary life.

Your writing is quite popular with mainline Christians. Have you found an audience now among evangelical Christians?

I tend not to think in terms of categories of Christians. Whoever the evangelicals are, I have friends in that community. When I first went to Wheaton College, where I sometimes speak or teach short terms, I did not really know what an evangelical was. I thought they were the same as fundamentalists, but I soon found out that was not so. I was delighted with the Wheaton experience—and have donated my manuscripts to the school.

You've written in so many different genres. Which one are you most at home with?

It all depends on what feels right. I used to alternate fiction with nonfiction, thinking each would be a vacation from the other, and in a way it was. I write depending on how the wind is blowing that day. Sadly, I haven't written much of anything but letters for the last three years. All the books I have started don't seem to get beyond 40—50 pages and then the well runs dry. I'm in my 80th year, so maybe I just don't have the same energy as before. But I hate to think I've said all I have to say. So I keep at it.