40 years ago — September 5, 1977
As a young minister in the slums of London in the ‘30s, I felt it my duty to take to speaking in the open air. I hated it, but I felt it cowardly to stay indoors, “preaching to the converted,” while the Fascists and the Communists were holding forth at the street corner within shouting distance of the church; the Fascists fomenting hatred against the Jews and the Communists exploiting the (legitimate) grievances of the poor. Obviously, I was at a disadvantage, since nothing starts the adrenalin flowing like a good hater playing on the emotions of fear and resentment. But I learned one valuable lesson: Never to be afraid of questions. I have heard them all, and in some cases I have asked them myself! An equally valuable lesson was that it’s a hollow victory to score debating points. A clever answer may tickle the mind, but it does little to satisfy the yearnings of the soul.
From the column “From my study window” by W.B.J. Martin
