Sermons on Biblical Characters — Story, Setting & Ideas

The Rhetoric of Absence and Presence

Chappell's method in the Thomas sermon is to circle his subject through a series of exclusions. He names those not expected—Judas, Pilate, Caiaphas—before naming the one who was expected but missing. This technique creates suspense and emphasizes the gravity of absence within a believing community. The language is plain and repetitive: 'Who was the missing man? It was not Judas... It was not Pilate... It was not Caiaphas... Then, who was this missing man?' The effect is cumulative, drawing the listener into a process of elimination that mirrors moral discernment. Chappell does not analyze Thomas's doubt; he focuses on the empty chair, the broken fellowship. The sermon's power lies not in theological argument but in the vivid, almost dramatic staging of a congregation noticing one of its own is gone.

Voice and the Unflinching Portrait

In the Jephthah sermon, Chappell's voice shifts from the measured cadence of the Thomas sermon to a more impassioned, almost defensive tone. He declares Jephthah 'one of the most heroic souls of Old Testament history' and insists he has been 'greatly wronged.' The language becomes visceral: Jephthah's mother is 'a professional outcast' whose 'feet in all ages take hold on hell.' Chappell does not soften the details—he names the 'unclean father' and 'unclean mother' directly, then pivots to pathos: 'Poor little baby. Poor little foundling. Poor little outcast.' This juxtaposition of harsh judgment and tender sympathy is characteristic of Chappell's homiletic style. He uses short, staccato sentences to convey moral urgency, then expands into longer, rhythmic passages that evoke the listener's own memories of home and childhood.

Pace and the Accumulation of Detail

Chappell controls pace through repetition and incremental revelation. In the Thomas sermon, he repeats the question 'Who was the missing man?' three times, each time adding a layer of exclusion. In the Jephthah sermon, he builds a case for the character's heroism by first cataloging his disadvantages: 'He was wronged in his very birth... He was the son of a father who was unfaithful... His mother was not one of those unfortunate souls... She was a professional outcast.' Each sentence adds a new detail, creating a rhythm of accumulating evidence. The pace quickens when Chappell shifts to direct address—'How we need to be reminded again and again that no man ever sins alone'—and slows when he invites reflection: 'What are the most precious memories in your life to-night?' These changes in tempo keep the listener engaged, moving from indictment to empathy and back again.

Chappell's sermons reward attention to his rhetorical craft: the way he poses questions, builds lists, and shifts between accusation and consolation. Readers may notice how he uses the biblical text as a springboard for psychological portraiture rather than doctrinal exposition. The collection offers a window into early twentieth-century American preaching that valued narrative tension and emotional directness over systematic theology.

Reading Chappell’s sermons on biblical characters, I kept noticing how he let the people breathe—their flaws left unhurried, their choices hanging in the air. It reminded me of another collection, quieter in tone but equally tender toward its subjects. Westminster Sermons with a Preface — Text and Context holds that same patient warmth, as if both authors simply sat with the text and listened.