Homeless and preached to
A bus belonging to the "Jesus Army"
Homeless for 18 months, Noel Long is increasingly annoyed by the proselytisation of most of the organisations dealing with the homeless.
“Excuse me, sir, I would just like to tell you that Jesus Christ Our Lord loves you and would like to…”
I’m afraid I never found out what Jesus Christ Our Lord would like so much to do for me as, at that point, I turned on my heel and left. The bearer of such glad tidings was a young guy who certainly didn’t mean any harm, and I didn’t intend to be rude.
But it was eight o’clock in the morning outside Camden Town tube station and I had been fast asleep in a doorway seven seconds earlier. I was certainly in no mood for a heavy religious discussion. At that moment in time, frankly, I was far more interested in discussing tea than theology.
Having been on the street for eight months at the time, I had noticed a lot of resentment among homeless people about the religious content of so many of the charity organisations. Judging by some of the people I have spoken to, and many comments overheard in the queues at food drops, many regard it as, at best, patronising proselytizing and, at worst, the cynical emotional blackmail of desperate and vulnerable people, a throwback to the Dickensian days of soup kitchens and work houses, and the destitute being forced to sing “Amazing Grace” seventeen times before being allowed a bowl of gruel and a cup of tea.
What exactly is it that makes born-again Christians believe that they have some (literally) God-given right to try to shove their religious beliefs down everybody else’s throats? I noticed the same thing many times when I lived in Hong Kong. There, the culprits, as they so often are, were Jehovah’s Witnesses. It was always the same set-up, obviously rehearsed many times. Two people, usually young men dressed in white shirts and ties, sporting crew-cuts and name badges, would hang around parks on a Sunday afternoon.
The people they approached would almost always be young, lonely and vulnerable-looking, generally either Chinese students or Filipina maids on their day off. It was always two against one, obviously to disorientate their victim, accompanied by many fake smiles and false bonhomie. Curiously, they hardly ever approached cynical Westerners.
The Hare Krishna movement is a good case in point. They simply hand out their vegetarian meals six days a week. (Why not on Sundays, incidentally? Since they’re not Christians, presumably Sunday is simply another day of the week. Perhaps they have vitally important seminars on bell-ringing and head-shaving to attend.)
They make no attempt to broadcast their creed and, as a result, they enjoy much more respect and admiration, and much more interest in their beliefs, than militant Christian organisations such as the Jesus Army ever will. Force simply does not work – when will they learn?
A few weeks ago, at a food drop in Charing Cross, one of the staffers came around with a pen and paper and asked everybody for their names. Not surprisingly, given the fact that many of the people who turn up at these things are not exactly anxious to advertise their identities, this was greeted with considerable hostility and suspicion.
However, it turned out that she simply wanted our names so that, later, they could pray for us (I wouldn’t have thought that God needed a scrawled signature to know who we are). When I refused to give my name on the not unreasonable grounds that the entire concept was utterly ridiculous, she became quite upset and rather aggressive. So much for turning the other cheek.
As far as I’m concerned, Monty Python’s Life of Brian tells use everything we will ever need to know about the inherent ludicrousness of all organised religion. So please, Jesus people, keep your views to yourself or, better still, be a good Samaritan and cross to the other side when you see me coming because I’m not interested.
Noel Long occasionally volunteers at the British Humanist Association offices.
Interesting – I (and many many others) took part in something called Byte Night last October – where folks in (mostly) the IT industry raise money for Action for Children by being sponsored for ‘sleeping rough’ outside the office for a night. Of course we were well looked after, but the point is we did raise a tidy sum and got at least the dimmest idea of what it must be like to have no choice but to huddle in a doorway night after night.
It never occurred to me at the time, but I dont recall the occasion as having had any religious content whatsoever.
I think if I’d imagined there was any chance that I’d have been woken up by someone with white teeth and a bible I’d have viewed the occasion with considerably more trepidation than I did.
I have long thought the charitable work that religious organisations do to be valuable. If they stopped doing it, many people would be worse off as a result. In cases where an individual’s survival is at stake, help accompanied by proselytisation is a whole lot better than no help at all. Better to wish for living converts than dead “heathens.”
That said, those organisations who in the words of Noel Long “…shove their religious beliefs down everybody else’s throats” have a lot to learn about proselytisation. By far the best advertisement for any belief system or lack thereof is the example set by those who follow it. Forcing a belief system onto someone is counter-productive.
Give a false name and take the food.Poetic justice?
What the problem is here is that of purpose. If your purpose is to help, then do just that. The help I give as an humanist individual is just as worthy as that of any religious organization. I really find this type of statement: “In cases where an individual’s survival is at stake, help accompanied by proselytism is a whole lot better than no help at all” to be hypocritical in the highest, as there is no reason whatsoever why help should be associated with proselytism. It’s like saying that teaching the bible to young children in Africa is better for them than not teaching them to read and write at all. Why can’t they be taught spelling with any other text?
I goes to show that the purpose of the teaching is not to ensure the welfare of the children, but their possible indoctrination. It is not teaching for teaching sake, but indoctrination via teaching. The same seems to be happening in the story above. The purpose is not to help people, for this could be done – and indeed IS done- without any religious slant. The purpose is to indoctrinate via charity.
If short, it’s like giving to charity, and asking for a receipt.
There appears to be an increase in evangelising to the vulnerable, and the growth of organisations such as Street Pastors. While anyone is entitled to offer comfort and support on their terms, there is a real question over whether we should be paying for it, and the relationship of the Police and other public bodies to these organisations.
Already a number of Local Authorities have withdrawn funding from Street Pastors after local Humanists have asked for an Equalities Impact Assessment.
Questions worth asking a Local Authority considering funding groups such as Street Pastors:
Does you organistion accept membership from people of all faiths and none?
Does your organisation welcome people regardless of their sexual orientation?
Does your organisation have an Equality and Diversity policy?
Does your organisation promote policies in line with those of public bodies e.g. on issues such as substance abuse, safe sex etc.
Perhaps the BHA could give guidance on how to appropriately respond to a Local Authority who is funding faith groups?
Good article, thankyou.
One small factual point: the young men in white shirts, ties and with name badges would have been Mormons, not JW. As an escaped JW I still don’t like that common mixup (another example , the JWs may be seriously misleading and mislead but they are not teetotal, that’s the mormons again.)