On a busy sidewalk in Brooklyn, New York, I preach. The Holy Spirit calls us urgently to share the Good News of the Father’s love in Jesus. We do this by proclaiming God’s invitation to accept, through faith and baptism, an intimate relationship with the Trinity as members of Christ’s Body, the Church and, assisted by prayer and the sacraments, to grow in Christ’s love that we might live forever in glory. The proclamation of this invitation to a constant and deepening relationship with God always has been the long-range goal of helping others live with us this life of love and prophetic fidelity to God’s ways.
Most of our local Catholic parishes are doing a good job of this: We have in our own parish over 500 children in religious instruction classes plus 300 children in the parish school, though the potential enrollment runs into the thousands. But because of a lack of media representation and a siege of proselytization from other religions, the weak faith of many nominal Catholics in our neighborhood is in grave danger of being lost altogether. And so I evangelize.
In earlier days one could find outdoor gathering places where a keen interest in political issues drew large groups of people into the give-and-take of debate and apologetics. Union Square in New York was one such location where “soapbox orators” shouted their messages and engaged in lively public discussions. Hyde Park in London was another, where the Catholic Evidence Guild co-founded by Frank Sheed was born. Nowadays forums like these no longer exist, and the places best to street-preach are shopping malls or street corners where you have only a few seconds to engage the passersby before they move out of earshot. For an hour or two each Saturday, it is in this situation I find myself.
A public address system is, of course, indispensable if one is to be heard at a busy intersection. I use a wireless, two-speaker, system that runs either on batteries or from an AC outlet. I place the speakers on the sidewalk so that the sound of my voice goes both across and down the street. But neither speaker is too far from me, lest someone passing by be tempted to grab it and disappear. The system I use cost about $2000 a few years ago. It is also equipped with a cassette-playing unit that I use occasionally to play English, Spanish, or Creole hymns.
Handouts are also effective, and for this I must have help. When I don’t I rely on displaying attractive booklets that people might want to come up and take. Since keeping a constant supply of books in English and Spanish is very expensive, I find myself making my own photo-copied handouts. The problem if I am alone is that returning to my car for more material might result in the disappearance of what is already set up. Although the other street vendors in the area watch out for my equipment, I nevertheless have to keep a close watch on it.
To call ours a bustling neighborhood is a bit of an understatement. The gearing up for the Labor Day West Indian parade on Eastern Parkway, which is taking place even as I write, gives a hint of the flavor of the region. We are a vast population of older residents and recent immigrants. Most of those who have come here recently are from the Caribbean area, Central America, and Mexico. But there is a generous sprinkling of Moslem Arabs from countries of the Middle East, plus immigrants from South America, Russia, Poland, and China. The fewer older residents are Irish, Jewish, and from other European countries.
Unfortunately, besides English, I speak only Spanish and a smattering of Haitian French-Creole. These are the dominant languages in the neighborhood. As I preach I switch from English to some Spanish and occasionally to awkward French-Creole.
As I mentioned, the area is feeling the effects of proselytizing efforts by Mormons, Baptists, Pentecostals, and Jehovah’s Witnesses (Brooklyn is world headquarters of the latter). Also, as in many parts of the country, many of our African-American youths are desperately looking for a clearer religious and cultural identity. They organize as Muslims or as groups such as the “Twelve Tribes,” as they call themselves. The Twelve Tribes claim they are the real Jews and some of them consider me, a white man and a priest, evil and certainly destined to suffer in hell. Already it appears that many of the ethnic groups—including but not only the West Indians—who are traditionally Catholic have abandoned their faith and are rapidly becoming secularized, religious indifferentists (e.g., one religion is as good as another) or have become members of other religious groups.
Out of these conditions comes the content of my preaching. I make it clear that I am a Roman Catholic priest, privileged to proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom of God. And that Good News is that God so loved the world that he sent his only Son, who became our brother to show us the way to eternal life and who gained for us that life by his death, resurrection, and his sending to us his Holy Spirit.
I also make clear that the word “world” in this context means all of us without exception. That God knows everything about each one of us and that he invites each one of us by name to the wedding feast of the Lamb. That the proclamation of the Kingdom is a proclamation of happiness for all those who are poor in spirit, meek, who hunger and thirst for God’s holiness, who are peacemakers, who are merciful, and who are pure of heart. That Jesus came into the world not to condemn it but to save it. That the Ten Commandments are the indispensable foundations of love. That the commandments to love God above all things and our neighbor as ourselves are the most important of all. That to preserve the truth and holiness of the Kingdom and to sanctify its members in spite of our sins, Jesus established the Church when he said to Simon, son of John, that he was “rock” and on this rock he would build his Church. That to Simon Peter he gave the keys of the Kingdom and that the gates of hell shall not prevail against the Church. And that this Church is the Catholic Church.
I repeat this message in different ways over and over and over again, usually with a Bible in my hand, sometimes singing in Spanish the Hail Mary and other hymns.
When I began my street preaching a couple of years ago, a number of the parishioners at my parish, after an initial reaction resembling shock, turned out with enthusiasm to help me. But with family and other pressing needs for which they reserved their Saturdays, they began to drop out until now only two or three come to help me with the equipment and handouts. I am careful about to whom I give the microphone. Most people in all good faith tend to preach “shoulds” instead of the substance of the Good News, the basic content of which is the kerygma, the proclamation of God’s love in Jesus. And the proclamation itself, as St. Paul reminds us, has the power of God behind it to convert and fill the listener with the life and love of God.
What are the effects of my street preaching? The few who stop to listen, as well as those very few who are habitually in the vicinity of the place where I preach, showed its impact in various ways. There is little discernible reaction from the many hundreds of non-Catholics who pass by. One man who identified himself as a Protestant told me he was glad that I was preaching salvation for the whole world. But the reaction of the numerous Catholics who pass by is another story. Many times as I preach little children accompanied by their parents come up and kiss me. Our Catholic people often come over to greet me. I think they are encouraged to see one of their priests proclaiming their faith and the love of God to everyone who passes by.
The Jehovah’s Witnesses rather quickly drift away, while the Mormon youths who pass by generally greet me warmly as if we were preaching the same Gospel. One of them asked once if he could take the microphone and say a few words. That of course was out of the question.
One man gave me his card and invited me to do a half-hour a week on his radio program. But he said that he had to insist on the condition that I not include any doctrine. He wanted to hear only what he considered the positive nondoctrinal content of the message. I told him that as a Catholic priest spreading the message of the proclamation of the Good News I could not exclude basic tenets of Catholic teaching. The poor man, apparently under pressure from his partner in the radio business, had to withdraw his invitation.
The people who are normally at my street corner include some African-Americans who sell incense and oils often associated with their community and, I suppose, sometimes used in some forms of religious ritual. Other people have portable stands from which they sell batteries and electronic trinkets. Others sell records and books. One of those selling batteries is an old Muslim man from Lebanon, who wears a typical white, knitted skullcap. All of us have developed into a kind of family. In hot weather the Muslim man will buy me a cold drink and on one occasion carefully selected an apple from another street vendor and gave it to me. He hardly speaks a word of English but he embraces me when I arrive to preach. He is not an example of the impact of the Good News since I don’t think he understands what I am saying. But for some unknown reason we have developed a deeply affectionate relationship. At one time or another during the hot weather the other people at our corner gave me water or fruit juice while I was preaching. One of them remarked that she enjoyed my “service.”
I often forget to pray formally as I prepare to preach. But I hope that I am doing God’s will and I trust that, in his own way, he will bless what I am doing, however little it might be.