A Preacher on Wheels
At California Freethought Day, evangelists were circling like sharks.
Street preachers fascinate me, mostly because of their absolute impotence in the face of irritated strangers desperate to avoid them. Passers-by aren’t exactly thrilled at having brimstone tossed at them while they’re walking to work or strolling the park. I have yet to hear a single story about a pedestrian who shifted from a city road to the Roman Road simply because someone blasted John 3:16 out of a bluetooth speaker.
I encountered several pavement preachers at the recent California Freethought Day event in Sacramento and recorded two conversations: one video and one audio. The video exchange features one crusader dragging apocalyptic warnings on a homemade bike trailer. Despite his earnestness, as he and I chatted, I realized that one could fit his Bible knowledge in a shot glass.
What drives these sanctimonious street walkers (and riders)? Certainly, some wanderers suffer from a disturbed mind. We’ve all seen examples of the mentally ill walking and talking in confounding ways, and those people deserve our compassion and understanding.
Yet many Main Street missionaries are fully lucid and aware as they drag (often literal) soapboxes into city streets, onto college campuses, and into secular gatherings. Their attitude echoes the claim of 19th Century Baptist pastor Charles Spurgeon, who famously wrote, “Etiquette, nowadays, often demands of a Christian that he should not intrude his religion on company. Away with such etiquette! It is the etiquette of Hell. True courtesy to my fellow man’s soul makes me speak to him if I believe that soul to be in danger.”
This Blues Brothers excuse boils down to “I’m on a mission from God,” but I suspect these misguided ministers are doing something less noble:
They’re masturbating.
It may sound crass to some, but I like to use the term “theological masturbation” when describing street preachers. After all, what could be more self-gratifying than to expose yourself to public attention, proclaim a superior Way, and then inform an in-group that you’ve battled foes and culled recruits.
Tribal signaling is something primates often do, and performance evangelism is remarkable in that it costumes egotism in the cloth of nobility. I informed one of my Sacramento interlocutors that his intrusion was inappropriate, and he protested that (paraphrasing), “Hey. It’s God’s mission, not mine.” He was superiority glazed in humility…a Lord’s Lancelot. How many repellent reverends have hidden behind a royal shield?
My friend Dr. Chrissy Stroop has written much on missionaries, perhaps most specifically about how evangelism insults personal agency, a problem summed up by the line “prosylitization is objectification.” She tweeted this great line a few years ago: “You don’t respect my boundaries, you won’t be in my company.”
It’s astoundingly presumptuous for a God-believer to make another’s personal space his/her mission field, to assert that a discussion MUST be had because the stakes are high, and to tell another who they are and how they’re wired (“You’ve hardened your heart. You’re not listening or discerning. You were never a True Christian.”)
A third evangelist trolling through California Freethought Day caught my attention, and he vomited his sermons with great confidence. When I politely informed him that, statistically, atheists are better educated on the Bible than most Christians, he replied that the planet’s Christians were ALSO deceived. Fortunately, he had Dan Browned a hidden code from the pages of scripture and was committed to correcting the public record. Billions on earth are deceived! He is enlightened! (Moments later, he would also claim that he himself was The Messiah. I suspect he could benefit from a mental health professional.)
To be fair, a great many believers understand that evangelizing both friend and stranger is presumptuous, arrogant, and just plain rude. I recently spoke with progressive Christian April Ajoy, and her Jesus (somehow) wasn’t a Great Commission god. April concedes that recruiting is bad form, and she trusts her deity to have the one-on-ones without a broker. I’d argue that biblical Christianity is a dominionist religion, but given the alternative, I’ll take her altered version. It’s a personal faith that doesn’t invade my personal space.
We can engage, but we don’t owe anyone a debate. We’re not broken. We understand and practice ethical and pro-social behaviors…good without gods. We’re curious, critical thinkers. And we’re convinced that a truly interested Father would approach his earthly child personally…no middleman required.
So the next time a street preacher invades your space with a Bible and a bullhorn, tell him how unseemly it is to masturbate in public.