For campus preachers, time is up

If the clock outside Woodburn Hall felt guilty, I wouldn’t blame it.

During the years, it has endured its fair share of condemnation. Generations of street preachers have stood at its base, proclaiming the sins of IU students.

And while we can walk away after we’ve had our share, the clock can’t. It’s stuck.

In September, it was forced to face Brother Richard Roskovich’s condemnations of evil “psycho- terror-devils” who love gangster rap.

I can’t begin to imagine how much this hurt the faithful timepiece. Everyone knows that clocks everywhere have loved rap since Flavor Flav first hung one around his neck.

Unable to defend itself, it stood condemned, silent, without uttering a single objection – except for its regular outburst at the top and bottom of the hour.

This past week, the clock listened angrily to the teachings of Jed Smock, also known as Brother Jed, one of the nation’s most famous – or would it be “infamous” – campus preachers. Traveling across the United States from August to December, Smock will speak at more than 35 universities this year.

“How is this man even yelling at me?” the clock might wonder. Because the clock knows that in order to make a bunch of noise on campus, you’ve got to have support. It was paid for by the IU Student Foundation, and has been ticking ever since. But who in their right mind would support Smock’s ramblings?

A rock star within the public preaching movement, Smock is among the best in the country at judging and accusing students (and clocks) he’s never met.

He’s also a master of controversy.

At Ohio University, Smock handed out pamphlets titled, “Convincing Reasons Homos are Hellbound.”

And while speaking at Arizona State University, Smock claimed “the only thing Mexicans contribute to society is burritos,” and asserted that “Jewish people are only good at making bagels and running banks.”

But wait, Jesus didn’t run a bank or a restaurant. I’m confused.

And the clock is, too.

Smock leaves out a lot. While he occasionally mentions love and somewhat addresses forgiveness, he largely neglects the best parts of the Bible, and that’s a talent.

Heavy on conviction, he glosses over a crucial component of the Christian message: grace. He successfully takes the message of Jesus’s life – a message that was called “good news” by the earliest Christians – and twists it into vicious condemnation.

And then he screams it at a clock, because that’s the only thing that will listen.

Let’s face it: Smock’s preaching persuades no one.

His message, which he’s fondly labeled “confrontational evangelism,” fails because it’s designed simply to excite emotions, not to discuss truth.

Everyone understands that a masturbator today is not a homosexual tomorrow. And just because a young lady has sex doesn’t mean she’s a whore.

The larger truth, which Smock minimizes, is that everyone makes mistakes, is loved anyway and is invited into a new kind of life.

If this clock could talk, I’m pretty sure it would tell Smock, “Your time is up.”