Subway Evangelism

by Laura Berger

May 19, 2009

His appearance is haggard.  His hair is overgrown and tangled, his clothes are torn, and his front two teeth are missing.  He shouts at the commuters who mostly rush by without even glancing at the older man standing by the subway turnstiles.  But at second glance, he isn’t angry.  He’s shouting about Jesus, and inviting people to come and talk to him about Christ’s love.

His name is Vincent and he hands me a pamphlet that says he works for the King James Bible Baptist Church on 42nd Street.  But he is a messenger of G-d, he tells me.  “I’m staying here until Jesus rises again.”

“But what if he doesn’t come for a few days?” I ask, trying not to sound facetious.  I'm Jewish, so I have reason to doubt his claim.

“The Lord will provide,” King says, with a gap-toothed smile.

Vincent is 46 and has had a busy life.  He grew up in Norton, New Jersey, and has been married and divorced.  He has worked as a mechanic.  He has spent time in jail, which is where he became a born again Christian.  His only crime was driving without a license, or so he says. He was caught when the state implemented computer records of tickets and he “must've had a ticket in every city in Jersey,” he says.

While in his holding cell, he cried out to the Lord and to his surprise, got an answer.  “A bright light came down and I felt it hit my heart and I knew then there was a G-d.”  Another born again Christian then met up with him and gave him a pocket New Testament.  “Good thing it wasn't a Muslim, because I would've accepted Allah into my heart right then too,”  Vincent says.

Now, Vincent lives without a home, preaching day in and day out in the Union Square subway station and other places in the area.  He has a well-worn black canvas bag filled with pamphlets, bibles and clothes, which sits under his folding table next to the subway entrance. When he gets tired or his voice becomes too hoarse, he sits in a wooden chair and reads over Bible verses.

“I gave up my apartment, I gave up everything to follow the Lord,” he says. “I've been dead for three years now.  I'm crucified with Christ.  I don't even know who I am,” says Vincent.  But apparently, this is okay.  When people focus on themselves, they can't worship G-d, he says.  “I'd rather dedicate myself fully to G-d than turn in on myself.”

Vincent is downright verbose when it comes to the problems with the world today.  From television (“It's contaminating our minds”) to the ungodly music (“Fornication! And lust!”), Vincent ticks off society's poisons on his fingers.  It all comes down to the influence of the devil and the flesh, he tells me earnestly.  However, our salvation is near at hand, he says.  We need to see G-d with the eyes of our heart, not the flesh.

This all may sound like he's completely unhinged but he doesn't seem so in person. King has some wild opinions, but he speaks calmly and has a great memory. After meeting me just once, he remembers me days later, and greets me with a, “Shalom, sister!”

It's a generous greeting, but not enough to win me over. He may have been disappointed when I wouldn't agree to pray to Jesus with him, but Vincent is nothing if not sure of the Lord's power to turn sinners (like me) back towards the light.

“Stay in the Spirit, Laura sweetheart,” he says as a farewell.

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Seeing a man like Vincent in New York City is by no means a rare experience.  It's almost daily that a commuter here will see one of these subway evangelists.  Whether Scientologists, Jews for Jesus, or “Hellfire” Christian evangelicals, the number of people seeking converts in the subway has risen over the last few years.  During their New York City summer campaign of 2007, Jews for Jesus handed out 462,900 tracts to “both Jews and Gentiles,” according to their website.

But are these groups saving people?  Over the course of the summer campaign, about 500 people gave Jews for Jesus volunteers their contact information.  That does not seem like a lot, in comparison with almost 500,000 leaflets distributed, especially considering that not all of the 500 people actually converted.  Some could have just been hoping to continue an argument with the missionary they met. I only say this because I did this myself.

I have had a peculiar relationship with missionaries throughout my life.  I grew up Jewish but much more secular than I am today.  I went to Reform Jewish Sunday school for a few years but felt disconnected from Judaism as a religion.  One might say that the main reason I am Orthodox now is because of the efforts of a few persistent Chabad women (another kind of missionary?).  After my bat mitzvah, when I finished all the schooling my Reform synagogue had to offer, I started going to the local Chabad at my mother's request.  Suddenly, religion was shown to me in a new light.  One weekend, my Hebrew teacher Chayale brought me to her town of Postville, Iowa, to spend shabbat with her.  It was like being in an enclave of peace and quiet, uninterrupted by cars, television or the phone.  It was Shabbat as I had never seen it before.

Six years and lots of learning and Jewish summer camps later, I'm an orthodox Jew.  Who would have thought?

The Chabad ladies weren't the only religious people after me as a child, though.  I grew up in the small city of Rochester, Minnesota.  In Rochester, there were over a dozen different denominations of Christianity but only a few dozen practicing Jews in total.

As a Jewish girl in a primarily Christian area, I’ve had my share of missionaries targeting me as a potential convert.  When I was in 7th grade, my friend Mary, invited me to an all-night church lock-in. She reassured me that all the kids were inviting “non-church friends.”  It sounded fun, so I went.

After hours of games and pizza, she tried to bring me into the chapel for dawn mass.  I didn’t go and I didn’t end up accepting Jesus into my heart.  But that never stopped her or the thousands of other missionaries out there from adding, “Not yet.”

New York City, unlike Rochester, has a huge range of religious groups and they are everywhere.  My freshman year, my roommates were a Christian, a Hindu and a Muslim.  It sounds like a joke, but it sparked my interest in learning more about other religions.

Once I decided to seek out missionaries there, it became apparent just how widespread they are.  Barely a day goes by in New York City when I don’t take a pamphlet from a smiling man or woman at the turnstile of the subway and see Jesus on the cover.  Mormons, Scientologists, Jews for Jesus and Evangelical Protestants are all represented in my growing religious leaflet collection.

Jews for Jesus is a special case.  For one thing, they specifically target Jews. In addition, they have been especially visible in New York City.  During their Summer 2007 campaign, Jews for Jesus seemed to be everywhere.  The underground passageway between Times Square and Port Authority was plastered with signs advertising the Jews for Jesus organization and their missionaries were posted all over Jewish neighborhoods in New York City.

The Jews for Jesus missionaries give out pamphlets with directions to their home page, with a prominent link: “GET SAVED.”  If you click the link and don't demonstrate the right degree of faith in Jesus with your answers to a pop quiz, the website responds, “Okay, so you’re not quite there yet.  How about allowing us to engage with you as you explore the possibilities of who Jesus is and what it could mean for your life? Just fill out this brief form and we will get back to you by e-mail or by phone, whichever you prefer, and take it from there.”

When I filled out this form, it led me to Leah Vandersluis.  She's a Minister-at-Large Assistant working for Jews for Jesus, working in Chicago.  We argued via email for several days about different texts and sources that, according to her, prove the authenticity of Jesus and his miracles.  Her points, as much as I hate to admit it, required a lot of research to argue with, and perhaps this type of educated invitation to argue is why Jews for Jesus has had so much success.  My conversation with Vandersluis directed me next to Karol Joseph, Branch Director of Jews for Jesus in Brooklyn.

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I make plans to meet Mr. Joseph at a laid-back coffee shop in the New York University area, after having exchanged a few emails and our phone numbers.  I arrive early and sit down at a small table to wait.  I am a little nervous.  Finally she arrives and we exchange introductions.

Karol Joseph is the total opposite of Vincent King.  She is professionally dressed, petite, has short blond hair and carries not a Bible but a PDA with several translations of the Tanakh that she can call to the screen in a flash.  Her purpose is to proselytize and she's well prepared.

I learn that Joseph has been a member of Jews for Jesus for twenty years, and a missionary for eighteen.  She tells me that although Jews today don't proselytize, or actively convert, the word proselyte has its origins in Hebrew.  She claims that there is a tradition in Judaism of forced conversions, especially immediately after the events recounted in the story of Chanukah, which occurred in the 100’s BCE.   All of this is new to me.

That's how they get you, I remind myself.  Few Jews have studied the history of Jewish conversion practices or the Messianic tropes in the Torah.  Jews for Jesus members, however, are extremely well-versed in these topics.  Joseph is very down-to-business with her questions, with solid eye contact and a slow, even tone.  Her information sounds rehearsed but solid and I jot down notes so I can look things up later.  Now it’s my turn to quiz her.

“How did you become a Jew for Jesus,” I ask, and her face lights up.  This is evidently a question she wanted me to ask.  Joseph grew up in a Conservative Jewish family in Boston, and even worked at Brandeis University in the history department, so her connection to Jewish culture wasn't exactly weak, she says.

“I became a Jew for Jesus because of G-d,” Joseph replies.  “It wasn't something I chose.  I would have accepted anything else at one point.  Many of the people in the Torah first encountered and then they just had to follow.  For me, that's the way it worked.”

She goes through several passages in the Torah that she was shown as well, and asks me whether Jesus could fit as the subject of each sentence.  I don't want to, but sometimes I have to grudgingly admit that it's a possibility.

Joseph herself observes Passover, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur but doesn't consider them binding in that if she doesn't celebrate them, she's kicked out of heaven.  Some Jews for Jesus keep kosher and the Sabbath too, but Joseph does not.  But she was born into a Conservative Jewish family and refers to Jesus as Yeshua.  Unlike many critics, she sees a difference between Jews for Jesus and Christians.  Aside from holiday practices, she still feels attached to Jewish history and culture.

On the question of the success of Jews for Jesus, Joseph doesn't have specific numbers with her.  “You can't evaluate success by numbers,” she says.  “We're successful in helping Jewish people know that there are Jews who believe the Messiah has come.”  Joseph compares herself and the other missionaries she works with to figures from the New Testament.  “It's the same as it was in the days of Jesus.  The majority rejects, some are hostile, and some are curious.”  If the goal is to make people aware of their group, then Jews for Jesus has definitely seen success.

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One day, on the way home from class, I meet two young men neatly dressed in business suits standing in Astor Place.  They politely stop me and introduce themselves as Elder Goodrich and Elder Wilkinson, two Mormon missionaries.  “Elder” is just a title that they take on during their two years of mission service.  Jeffrey Goodrich and Bryce Wilkinson are 21 and 19, and definitely not elders in any other sense of the word.

Both Goodrich and Wilkinson grew up Mormon in Utah, and are spending their two years of service in Manhattan.  Goodrich, who has already been in New York for a year and a half, seems comfortable with the city and with his role.  Wilkinson, who began his mission on April 1st, has a high, breaking voice, making him seem younger than 19.  He has very short blonde hair that sticks up in the middle and glasses, with a serious demeanor.

We exchange phone numbers in order to meet again and to my surprise, Elder Goodrich calls the next night at 9:00.  “Hey,” he says, “Did you get a chance to read those pamphlets I gave you?”

This is the first of several late-evening phone calls during which I feel guilty about not having done my homework and they tell me more about themselves and about their religion.  Goodrich tells me that the New York mission is actually quite successful, something I am surprised to hear.  He tells me that there are about 180 missionaries in his “ward” which covers the Manhattan, Bronx, and part of upstate New York.  Just during March, they had 74 people become Mormon and get baptized, with over five hundred converts last year.

I ask whether he thinks it's harder in New York than in other places, but he says that he loves it here.  “People are open-minded.  I think most people here have some kind of spirituality.”

I meet him again the following week at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on 15th street, and he brings me to a conference room with Elder Wilkinson and a third man in tow.  Goodrich says that they can only talk to me alone with another male in attendance.  This third man is Jared Clark.  He is 32 and lives in Manhattan.  He is tall and has a stubbled chin.  He spent his two years of mission work in Spain because he speaks Spanish fluently, but settled down in New York and continues to help the current rotation of missionaries.

We sit down in an empty classroom with bare walls.  They have four desks pulled up around a table in front of a blackboard.  It feels like a conference, not a conversion session.  I try to take the lead before they start with their pitch.  Luckily, they are patient and willing to let me ask the questions.

From Clark I learn that there are 53,000 missionaries serving world wide right now and that the fastest growing group is Spanish speaking.  There are 6 million Mormons in South America and 13 million in the world.  Not bad for a religion that's less than 200 years old.

Before speaking with the elders, I expected Mormonism to be easy to refute and dismiss, especially as a Jew.  But it's nearly impossible to argue with these three earnest men, not just because they are around my age and easy to relate to.  They aren't trying to sell me their religion.  They don't argue.  They just ask me to pray and find out for myself whether or not I believe.

“We don't try to convince or convert,” Goodrich says.  “We just tell people about the faith and then pray with them.”  I turned them down when it came to saying a Mormon prayer, but we closed our discussion with me saying the Shema, one of the most important Jewish prayers.

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However threatening the image of missionaries may be, it was clear that the missionaries I have met wanted nothing more than to help everyone they spoke to.  To see it from their point of view, our souls are at stake, and even extremes such as ripping people away from their childhood culture and family may be necessary if the alternative is the clichéd but still believed-in eternity in hellfire.

The missionaries I met have faith in themselves and their beliefs and feel that they know their place and mission in the world.  To those of us who are content not being part of their groups, they can be annoying zealots.  To others, like Vincent, they can be a ray of light.  At the very least, I haven't yet met a missionary that was unfriendly.

Karol Joseph was well-researched and genial, making a personal connection with her anecdotes about her Jewish beliefs.  Victor King was fervent, if not overzealous, but a captivating speaker and believed strongly that he had seen G-d with his own eyes.  The three Mormons I met were more measured and just wanted me to conduct my religious search on my own, confident that I would reach the same conclusion as they did.

They all had different approaches, and were unexpectedly compelling and enjoyable conversationalists.  The fact that I was talking to all of them (and a few more missionaries) at once made the main argument (Jesus) less convincing to me.  However, now I can see why they are so successful, even in a big and supposedly unfriendly city like New York.  They all believe so strongly in their own path that it's impossible not to want to feel the same way, at least for a little while.           

Laura Berger grew up in Minnesota, attended New York University, spent six months in South America and India, studied in Jerusalem this year at the Pardes Institute, and plans to attend law school in the fall. She currently works as a grantwriter and development researcher for the PresenTense Group in Jerusalem and will soon be participating in a summer fellowship with Uri L'Tzedek, a worker's rights group in Manhattan.

Some names have been changed or altered. A portion of this article previously appeared in Presentense Magazine. http://www.presentense.org/