Over the next few weeks, he started fine-tuning his derashah and delivery, making note of what worked and what didn’t. He noticed that people loved hearing about topics that directly affected them, such as loneliness, anxiety, and stress, as well as things that would improve their lives, like dealing with marital issues, finding fulfillment, and the challenges of raising children. Rabbi Steinberg began including personal snippets about his family and his life in his sermons, drawing on skills from his routines and business for this higher purpose. Obviously, his goal wasn’t to get laughs during the derashah, but rather to engage listeners with a strong message, one they would remember and could take home.

Soon, Rabbi Steinberg could see congregants smiling when he got up to speak. His wife, Devorah, saw how much more people were engaged as family anecdotes were being incorporated in the weekly pulpit talk.

Shul attendance increased, and a few locals who didn’t even attend Ahavas Shalom stopped Rabbi Steinberg on the street to discuss his speeches. A few people sent handwritten notes describing how they’d connected with his sermons, and he was soon getting requests for other speaking engagements.

“The best compliments are when people tell you about the changes they’ve made as a result of the things you say,” he says. “One person told me they were inspired to start keeping kosher. Another person committed to start attending a weekly shiur. And one shul member related he was about to criticize another member’s behavior, but remembered my message, ‘If you see something, don’t say something,’ and restrained himself. Those are the kinds of things that indicate you’re truly making a difference in people’s lives. Isn’t that what a derashah is all about?”

Six months later, the board hired a full-time rabbi, and Daniel Steinberg stepped down from his position — taking with him the realization that he had stumbled across something significant, something he wanted to share with others. He decided to put together a program to assist any speaker, pulpit rabbi, or layman to effectively convey his message, and he created what he calls the Maggid Method, an innovative set of techniques for public speaking that trains speakers to prepare presentations that are engaging, inspiring, memorable — and that will hold an audience’s attention.

In some ways, the Maggid Method differs greatly from the traditional approach, where speakers structure their sermons around a devar Torah connected to the parshah, with the takeaway often presented as an afterthought. The Maggid Method, on the other hand, leads with the message, seeking Torah references to bolster and emphasize that theme. The goal is to place greater importance on a transformation instead of focusing on details and information.

Not surprisingly, the Maggid Method takes its inspiration from the 18th-Century Dubno Maggid, an unrivaled preacher of great eloquence whose actual name was Rav Yaakov Kranz. The Maggid was once asked how he finds the perfect mashal for each of his lessons.

“I’ll answer you with a mashal,” he responded, sharing the story of an archer whose arrows were all in the bullseye of targets mounted on tree after tree in the forest. “ ‘Tell us the secret of your incredible marksmanship,’ the townspeople asked the archer. ‘It’s simple,’ he replied. ‘First I shoot the arrows, and then I draw a bullseye around them.’ ”

The Dubno Maggid explained that he used a similar approach, first collecting stories and then shaping his lessons around them — and the Maggid Method follows that pattern, first coming up with the message that needs to be shared and then molding a derashah around it.

The Maggid Method is based on five principles that address typical mistakes and the hurdles every public speaker must overcome, identifying practical solutions for each one. Daniel Steinberg shares the secrets that great speakers know.

Connection over Content

The mistake everyone makes: Launching into your content before establishing a connection with the audience. (I’ll admit I still make this mistake from time to time, and I always kick myself afterward for having forgotten to do it.)

Exhibit A:

I was once booked to do a comedy show at a Chanukah party in Wisconsin. When I arrived, I discovered that the audience was comprised of mostly elderly Russian immigrants who didn’t understand English. Worse, the stage was actually a small wooden pallet on the floor, and the microphone shorted out three minutes into my act. That left me confined to one spot, yelling undecipherable “jokes” in a foreign language.

The audience chatted quietly among themselves as I waded through a set that none of them understood, until I got to a joke whose punchline was the words, “Thank you.” That joke usually elicits a huge laugh, but that night, the audience started clapping politely and gathering their belongings, assuming my routine was over, even though I still had another 30 minutes of material left.

At the time, I literally had no idea what to do, but in retrospect, standing up there and being completely redundant and disconnected taught me a valuable lesson. I should have realized that my regular act wasn’t working, and done what I could to joke around with the crowd until my time was up. Instead, I just plowed through my act, prioritizing content over connecting with the audience.

The Lesson I Learned:

No matter how important your message is, if you don’t give the audience a way to relate and identify with you, they won’t be motivated to follow you wherever you want them to go.

Let’s Bring It Home:

Transforming people’s lives is a local call, not long distance. To put it simply: Your audience needs to be able to relate to you and connect with you if you really want them to listen.

I heard from a rabbi recently who said, “I’d love to get trained to be a better speaker.” What he really meant was, “I want to come across as a more polished and professional speaker.” I know many congregational leaders whose language is flowery and full of jargon, and they speak in an elegant “pulpit voice,” but they come across as pompous and aloof to many of their congregants, which means their influence is severely limited. Remember: Content and delivery can always be improved, but if you don’t click with your audience, you might as well just sit down.

Investment over Interest

The mistake everyone makes: Not making it personal.

Exhibit A:

In 2009, Bill Gates gave a Ted Talk on his foundation’s efforts to reduce the spread of malaria in underdeveloped countries. The audience was filled with philanthropists, but Gates didn’t feel that they were personally invested in the cause, which meant that showing photos and videos about human suffering, and delivering statistics on mortality rates wasn’t going to cut it. Instead, the Microsoft founder took a different tactic, walking to the center of the stage and dramatically releasing a jar of mosquitos into the room while he explained how malaria is transmitted by none other than… mosquitos.

Not surprisingly, the audience was rattled as the mosquitos buzzed all around. Gates allowed for a dramatic pause before explaining that these particular insects were not infected — but by making the audience fear for their own health for just a few seconds, he had successfully conveyed the seriousness of the threat millions of people worldwide face daily in a visceral and unforgettable way. Gates’s message didn’t just resonate with the audience, it also prompted them to act because he made it personal.

The Lesson I Learned:

Choose topics that address the audience’s deepest needs and desires, and articulate up front how your message can impact their lives. Do they stand to gain by listening to you or lose out if they disregard your message? Either way, make sure that whatever you speak about really matters to your listeners.

Let’s Bring It Home:

Possibly the worst feedback I have ever gotten came after a Shabbos Shuvah derashah that I poured my heart and soul into. A woman came up to me afterward and said, “You lived in Syracuse, New York? I have a daughter who goes to school there!” She went on and on about the beautiful leaves changing colors in the fall, making it painfully obvious that my main message had had zero impact on her.

Bonus Point:

There is a Gemara that says that Rabba always began his classes with a joke. I once asked noted lecturer Rabbi Dovid Orlofsky why he tells jokes throughout his class and not just as an opener.

“That’s easy,” Rabbi Orlofsky replied. “People’s attention spans are so short these days that every five minutes it’s like I’m starting all over again.”

That statement illustrates a very important lesson — even if you capture an audience’s attention, it’s only a matter of time until you lose it again. The real trick is sustaining the audience’s attention.

Transformation over Information

The Mistake Everyone Makes: Bombarding listeners with information instead of giving them something concrete they can hold on to.

Exhibit A:

Rav Moshe Weinberger, Rav of Congregation Aish Kodesh in Woodmere, New York, tells the story of a chassid that illustrates how saying less can yield significant results. Facing difficult circumstances in his life, the chassid sought out a well-known rebbe and was finally granted an audience after a long wait. When the big moment arrived, the Rebbe said just four words: “Hashem will help you.” The chassid was crushed — he already knew Hashem would help him; what he wanted to know was how to manage until then.

Sensing the chassid’s disappointment, the shamash sent him back in to the Rebbe, instructing him to ask for clarification. A minute later the chassid was back, this time with a smile on his face, as he shared the Rebbe’s eight-word explanation, “Hashem will help you until He helps you.” The Rebbe’s short but powerful message reminded the chassid that just as Hashem would provide him with a solution in the long term, He would also be at his side until his situation improved.

Having the Rebbe articulate that he would have Divine assistance every step of the way, not just at some future point, was a game changer for the chassid. More than just giving large amounts of information, the Rebbe gave the chassid a simple transformational answer, reassuring him that he was already on his way to a better situation and that Hashem would carry him through his difficulties.

The Lesson I Learned:

Have a core, transformative message, and focus your sermon on that. Padding it with extraneous information will only cause it (and your audience) to get lost.

Let’s Bring It Home:

I remember the time I coached a rabbi on his Rosh Hashanah derashah. He had so much he wanted to say — and he put all of it into his speech. It was impossible to follow his sermon from beginning to end.

“Overstuffing is for sandwiches, not for derashos,” I told him. “Narrow everything down to one identifiable, transformative point.”

Narrowing down the speech was exceedingly difficult for him, but after committing the entire weight of his derashah to a single point, it became laser-focused and made a memorable impact.

Vision over Vapor

The Mistake Everyone Makes:

Not communicating a clear, thought-out vision. This makes your transformational message come across as empty rhetoric or superficial platitudes, completely undermining your credibility.

Exhibit A:

Have you ever heard the story of Monty Robert? He was the son of a horse trainer, who spent his childhood moving from stable to stable, and from ranch to ranch, and the constant relocations meant that Monty’s schooling was perpetually interrupted.

One day, Monty’s teacher asked him to write about what he wanted to do when he grew up. Monty didn’t hesitate, putting together a seven-page paper about his dream to own a horse ranch that included a plan that showed his house, stables, and various buildings.

While Monty’s paper was thorough and detailed, his teacher thought it was an unattainable goal for someone in his economic circumstances. He got his paper back two days later, with a giant red F scrawled on the top of the page. “Your plan is unrealistic, given your economic and social status,” the teacher said, offering Monty a chance to rewrite his paper.

After consulting with his father, Monty decided not to make any changes, choosing his dream over his grade.

Years later, he found himself the owner of a 200-acre horse ranch, complete with a 4,000-square foot house. He framed the paper he had written all those years earlier and hung it over his fireplace.

That’s the power of a focused vision — Monty knew what he wanted, wrote a plan, and made his dream become reality.

The Lesson I Learned:

Being transformative isn’t just about spinning a beautiful fantasy; it’s about bridging the gap between the present and the future. A speaker should make the transformation achievable by giving his audience a tangible vision of what life can be like if they move toward that goal.

Let’s Bring It Home:

Walt Disney died in 1966, five years before the opening of his mega-popular theme park. Until then, he was dedicated to creating this park, the culmination of decades of dreaming. He was incredibly involved with the plans, accounting for even the smallest details.

On opening day in 1971, one ride operator told another, “It’s a pity Walt never got to see his dream brought to life.”

“That’s not true,” his friend replied. “We’re only seeing this park today because Walt saw it first.”

That’s what I call vision.

Action over Inaction

The Mistake Everyone Makes:

Failing to provide a call to action.

Exhibit A:

I was once in a shul listening to one of my clients deliver his sermon.

“Nu, so how’d I do?” he asked.

“Very powerful,” I said. “You had the whole room in the palm of your hands — the congregation’s attention was locked in on you. You clearly stated the derashah’s theme up front and you didn’t veer off course. Your message was relevant to every member of the audience, and we were all inspired by your words.”

At this point, my client was practically levitating a few feet off the ground — but then I pointed out the one flaw in his otherwise fabulous speech.

“The problem is, you didn’t give us anything to put into practice,” I said gently. “All that inspiration that you managed to work up — which is no small feat — will be gone by five o’clock this afternoon. And then it’s back to the same old. By nine a.m. tomorrow, it will be as if you didn’t speak at all.”

The Lesson I Learned:

To truly transform the audience, you cannot leave the ball in the audience’s court — you need to spell out a clear takeaway so they know what to do next. Empower your audience to act by giving them something, even if it’s a small change, that they can implement right away. This will to concretize the change and make it real.

Let’s Bring It Home:

 If I’m speaking in shul before Mussaf, I like to give the congregation a thought for the Amidah, or something they can do at Kiddush, like greeting someone they may not speak to otherwise. One Shabbos, I challenged members to go without their phones a little longer than usual on Motzaei Shabbos. I was bombarded with texts that night, with some people telling me they had been successful, while others said they would try again next week. These little actions, performed when inspiration is still running high, bring the transformation you’re speaking about to life.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1006)