After enduring a particularly annoying lecture from one of these people, I was moved to post the following on my Facebook page. The remarkable response I received suggested that I was not the only person who felt this way, so I’m reproducing it here for those of you who are not yet my Facebook friends.
An Open Letter To Those Who Preach On The Subway
You know who you are. Please read this before you attempt to save me again. I am sure I am not the only one on the train who does not appreciate being awakened from a nap by your loud, illiterate preaching. Many of us in the outer boroughs work multiple jobs, and/or are going to school. Sometimes the only sleep or study time we can manage is on the train. That nap you thoughtlessly interrupted is the only thing that may keep me from crashing the car on my way home from my gig or session tonight.
The teenager next to me who is studying for her chemistry final can’t really concentrate either. Your voice is really loud and annoying, even to me, who has a dip in the middle of my hearing chart that looks like the Grand Canyon. Anybody with normal hearing must be in agony. You’re killing her. Maybe she’ll get a scholarship if she does well on the test. You’re not helping.
And the single mom with three kids that she’s trying to keep from sliding off the bench while you’re yelling? I bet she’s not really interested. Not right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she goes to church already. And if you haven’t noticed, the little girl in her lap is really frightened. Watch how she’s staring at you. She thinks there’s going to be a fight. What do you really think you’re accomplishing?
Now I may not look like one or act like one. (Opinions differ.) But I was raised as a Christian. I attended St. Albans Episcopal Church every Sunday for sixteen years, unless I was deathly ill. My mother taught Sunday school there. I sang in the choir. I played tenor banjo in the youth group. My parents took me along when they went to church committee meetings. I even helped my father, a fine amateur carpenter, build shelves and a movable podium for the services downstairs.
Of course I read the Bible cover to cover at least once a year. There was a time when I could name all the books in the Bible, in order. I used to read through the hymnal and try to figure out the chord changes. I sight read and sang all the lower parts, not just the lead part.
I read the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer. Over and over. There was nothing else to read. I even read all the rubrics in the Episcopalian Book of Common Prayer. You know the teeny fine print in the back of the book that nobody reads? Those are the rubrics. I read them. More than once I’m not even sure that seminary students have to read those. Why? I’m a compulsive reader and I was bored out of my skull. (Our minister was a fine person but not a compelling public speaker.) I could even quote you a couple.
But perhaps, Mr. Subway Preacher, that doesn’t impress you. Maybe you think that the Episcopal Church of my childhood is not the real deal. Your church is more exciting and vibrant, possessed by the power of the Holy Spirit! Your ministers yell, and your church music has drums, six string bass, electric guitar, and modern synthesizers, big amplifiers and a loud PA system, right inside!
I’ll grant you that where you worship is probably a lot livelier than St. Albans. The Christian church three blocks from my house has an excellent band, a cranking PA, and soulful preaching. I’d actually consider going in there occasionally if I hadn’t been accused by one of the parishioners of being a spy for the Devil when I stopped to watch the band rehearse for a few minutes one night on my way home from the gym.
Well, I know something about this kind of church too. It might surprise you to know that when I was in Jamaica, I lived for several years in a house that had a Pentecostal Holiness church in the garage. My landlady was the minister. It wasn’t a big house, even though there were twenty-two people living in it. I couldn’t have avoided contact with your religion short of soundproofing my room, sealing the windows, and wearing shooter’s headphones.
It was nothing like St. Albans. There were services several nights a week and, of course, long ones on Sunday. Candles were lit in order to achieve various specific goals. The Books of the Maccabees were consulted. (I know because I bought them for my landlady at her request when I was on tour. I got some pretty funny looks in Customs.)
People preached, sang loudly, and talked in tongues. Old women crippled with arthritis were possessed by the spirit and danced like young girls. I heard and saw all this for myself. On Easter, the singing and drumming and praise went from noon until midnight.
One day I came home from the studio and hundreds of church officials from all over Jamaica, in amazing and beautiful outfits, were gathered in the yard in my landlady’s honor as she was ordained (I think as a bishop, I can’t remember for certain). They were a wondrous sight in their purple and white robes, seated in row after row of rented chairs. It was quite a party, and yes, there was food.
Apart from prolonged exposure to two very different Christian denominations, I have had other incidental contacts with people who believe as you do. I have made several gospel records, and performed, in church and out, with gospel singers. One of my best friends in the world is a devout and extremely well-informed, studious Christian, and we spent many nights on the road staying up until dawn discussing Christianity, religion in general, and ethics. He’s a serious guy. He walked away from a wonderful career in secular music because he felt it was in conflict with his beliefs. Are you that serious?
I also work with very devout and observant Christians every day. So, Mr. (or Ms.) Subway Preacher, I am quite familiar with both the seminal texts of your religion and a number of manifestations of it in practice. And do you know what? Just about everybody who’s ever engaged me in a serious discussion about it, no matter what their background or denomination, was smarter, better informed about the subject, and more articulate than you are. (Which, based on your painfully loud monologue I endured tonight on the way home, is not saying much.) You’re not exposing me to anything new, or even restating the old in a compelling way.
And if there was any chance on this earth that your preaching would lead me to the light, where these other people could not, IT WILL NOT HAPPEN IF YOU WAKE ME UP OUT OF A DEAD SLEEP. I am not a morning person. I will not be receptive. In fact, even if I agreed with you, I’d be furious. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d straighten out some of the things you say that I know are incorrect.
P.S. When you asked us for contributions at the end of your “sermon,” that was really lame. You’re bringing me the good news because your cup runneth over with blessings and you can’t keep it to yourself? And then you want me to put money in your cup? I know Christians can be broke just like anybody else. And people give money in church. But that’s because they already believe, and they are there voluntarily. I didn’t listen to you voluntarily. The opposite, in fact.
I usually give money to people when they ask respectfully. Even if it’s a con, the fact that they’re trying to con me means they have bigger problems than I do. Plus, if J—- is coming back, as you say he is, he’s probably coming back first as a beggar, or a homeless person. He’d want to check people out and get a feel for the state of our spiritual evolution before he pulls the plug on anything grandiose like the stuff in Revelations. That’s the way he’s rolled in the past.
I may not be a believer, but I’m not above playing the odds. I’d hate to see the Don Dada in his golden chariot on Judgement Day and go, “ZOMG! That’s the dude that I blew off on White Plains Road when he asked me for subway fare! He’s looking right at me! Boy, that was a mistake.” So I usually give. But not today. I’ll take my chances that you don’t have anything to do with the Second Coming.
In closing, please note that I don’t stand up in subway cars and harangue you, or anyone else about my politics. (Though I guarantee it would be more interesting than what we endured today.) Please allow me the same courtesy when it comes to your religion. If you have to preach, do it on the platform or in the station. I won’t be any more impressed with you, but at least I’m already awake. Thank you.
I am one of those very street preachers who preach in public and I thank God there are people who do this. You sound like you are a lost man who grew up in a religious social club and does not trust in Jesus Christ, you don’t know Jesus, based on what you yourself claim. Let me ask you a sincere question: If your house was on fire, God forbid, and a fireman came banging on the door, screaming for you to wake up, so you would not be burned, would you call him intolerant, loud, and obnoxious? Ofcourse not! If you were drowning, and a lifeguard were to use the same tactics and throw you a life preserver, would you say “Leave me alone! Stop yelling! Stop being such a narrow minded bigot saying you’re the only way!” ? Ofcourse not.
That is what the born again Christian is to do, but spiritually, for the lost person, rather than physically, like the fireman or lifeguard. If you were ontop of a burning building and the fireman is down at the street with a safety catch-net, you have to take the leap of trust and rely on him to save you, and jump. That is the faith/trust in Jesus Christ as one’s only Savior.
Religion cannot save you. Good works and good behavior don’t get anyone into Heaven and bad works and bad behavior don’t get anyone into Hell. The only thing that saves us the grace of God, faith alone in the Lord Jesus Christ alone, for eternally-secure life. Once saved forever saved.
We street preachers love you. We want you to be saved, to be in Heaven. If we didn’t love you and care for you and your eternal soul, we would not do what we do, we would not be preaching and warning and exhorting people to trust in Jesus Christ. Even if you disagree with us, and you are free to, that is your choice, at least love us for our sincerity to see you in Heaven.
And regarding the Watchtower Society, aka, “Jehova’s Witnesses”. You say they appear to be nice and harmless and peaceful and quiet. That is their game. They are devious, wicked, ravenous spiritual wolves. Every year thousands of their members die from lack of blood transfusions because of their false doctrine, and they shun and cut off from children and family who disagree with them. They deny core fundamental Biblical truth such as the fact that JESUS CHRIST IS GOD in the flesh and there is a real literal eternal concious torment in Hell, the Lake of Fire, and they teach works for salvation instead of God’s grace alone.
The Gospel is clear: If you trust in the finished death burial and resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ alone for eternal salvation you are saved.
I do not have time now to reply at length, but I will respond to a couple of your most important points.
1) My church was not “a religious social club.” It was led by a devout, caring minister who made such an impression on me that I engaged him, long after he had taken an assignment elsewhere, to preside at my wedding, even though I was no longer a believer. Intelligent debate of the Scriptures and discussion of same was encouraged.
2) Riding on the #2 train at 8 a.m. is not the same as being in a burning building, nor is it the same as drowning. This is a false equivalence. Would you break into my house at 3 a.m. to preach the Gospel, with the excuse that you love me and want me to be saved?
3) I don’t doubt the sincerity of your intent. However, the impact of your behavior renders your sincerity irrelevant.
4) I don’t know enough about the Witnesses’ doctrine to comment on it. However, some of them live in my building and they are excellent neighbors.
You sound like you had a bad day because of a sermon on a train. If by you knowing so much of bible lit, you should know that it is a Christian s job to spread the good news. Why you don’t, I don’t know. Instead you complain about news that is good. All the scholarly work and research you have done on Christianity but it only made you angry. Meanwhile, the bible states to do everything without complaining. Maybe you skipped that page. If you didn’t enjoy the sermon, get up and move to the next car. Oh yeah, I forgot, you have a right to sleep.
I understand that it’s a Christian’s job to spread the good news. It’s one of the many reasons I am not a Christian, but that is another discussion. However, Christians should also be thinking human beings, and pick a time and place to spread their good news where people might be receptive to it. That time and place is not on a rush hour train in New York City. I am not receptive to people yelling at me at 8 a.m. when I’ve gotten to bed at 5:30 a.m., especially when I haven’t done anything to deserve it. Nor am I willing to give up my seat under such circumstances unless it is for a pregnant woman, a parent with small children, or an infirm person. By the way, these people often move from car to car spreading the “good news,” so that is no solution. Were I to follow your suggestion, I might very well hear the good news twice. Besides, the MTA frowns on travel between cars while the train is moving.
By way of contrast, the Jehovah’s Witnesses are in my station every morning, and at the last stop on my ride, 34th Street, during rush hour, spreading their version of the good news. They are invariably polite, soft-spoken, and calm. I don’t agree with them either, but I’ll take one of their pamphlets and read it because they demonstrate basic respect and consideration for others.
And yes, I have an inalienable right to sleep.