We walked a way to find that pub. I don’t know if it was our excitement over the TGCA launch or the white rabbit ale, but it was a good night. Eight of us were there from four different states – Tess, Elliot, Michael, Me, Tom, Brian, Gillian and Andrew. We had a swag of theological degrees between us. Several PhDs. Conversation was easy and interesting. We were discussing the finer points of our theological vision statement, debating the pros and cons of a “continuist” eschatology and lamenting the lack of chips. There was an open mic and a guy belting out Wish You Were Here. It was a good night.
Two guys came up to us. Perhaps our mistake was in commenting on the slices of cucumber in their drinks but it probably wouldn’t have made any difference. They weren’t reading our body language. We didn’t want them to join us. We didn’t invite them to sit down.
The tallest one spoke with a Irish accent. “I’m John,” he said and held out his hand to each of us with a flourish. He was in the overly polite stage of drunkenness. What could we do but introduce ourselves?
“Simone,” I said.
“Siobhan?”
“Simone.”
It was like this with everyone. Alcohol doesn’t improve your hearing. When names were out of the way, he set about figuring out and dismantling our pecking order.
“Which of you is the leader here?” he asked, looking at Andrew and Michael, the two biggest guys sitting in the center of the group.
Neither responded.
“Andrew would like to think he is,” I said, “but…” and I shrugged.
John sat up taller in his seat to try to outsize Andrew. If he had known the strength of personality that he was taking on, he wouldn’t have tried. I was hoping Andrew would be gracious enough not to slay him immediately.
Michael had doubts. He spoke up to try to ease the tension.
“We’re ministers, actually,” he said. “All of us. You know, we’re vicars. Vicars.”
He articulated the word as he said it.
I wondered and perhaps hoped that that would scare the guys off, but John wasn’t afraid.
“Well you might be a vicar,” he said to Michael. “But he’s not.”
John pointed to Andrew who was very much a clergy man – and an irritated one at that. What do you do with that challenge? Argue?
Andrew didn’t have a chance to say anything because John took that as his cue to start raving about religion. There was a chorus of sighs. I know I contributed. We were eight cooks in a kitchen. Any of us could have made something of this conversation and none of us wanted to. This was our down time! And did drunk evangelism ever work?
John told us about his catholic school upbringing and strict parents. He went on about Buddhism and Hinduism, Islam, Christianity and atheism. A couple of times some of us tried to steer the conversation or correct a gross factual error, but we were silenced by John’s sidekick.
“You should listen to him, you should.”
We had been told.
When John had outlined the beliefs of all the major world religions (incorrectly) he paused for a moment. I knew I should see this conversation as a gift from God, an opportunity. But it was an annoyance. I was grieving for our lost evening and wondering how we could wrap things up quickly and make our escape.
Tom was sitting to my right. He hadn’t said anything so far, but had possibly been listening more carefully than the rest of us.
“So what is it that you believe?” he asked.
I was impressed. Despite the late hour, John’s drunkeness and the conversation that might have been, Tom was going to pursue this.
John angled himself away from Andrew and dominated the table. He imagined that he had usurped the alpha and he liked it.
Ten minutes passed. John was going around in circles. He had had some background in Christianity but what knowledge he had was confused in a mess of pride and obvious dysfunction. He was forty and doing nothing with his life.
It had been a very full day and was after 11 by this stage. With our intellectual stimulation taken away, we were all just tired. Michael took out his phone and started playing on it. John didn’t like this and told him to put it away.
“Fine example you’re setting for the younger ones!” he said. Michael, chastened, put his phone down. Every now and again he’d look up, glassy eyed, and nod.
I couldn’t tell you what happened in the conversation after that because I stopped listening. I was tired and bored and annoyed at the power play that was going on in front of me. I thought about making a trip to the toilets but could see that Tom was trying to make an effort and I would have had to push past him to get out.
After half an hour, Andrew’s patience ran out. He stood up suddenly and spoke.
“Well, that was the longest sermon I’ve ever heard, in my entire life!”
John didn’t like the interruption.
“Sit down,” he said. He pointed to Michael. “Your friend was interested. He was nodding all the time I was talking.”
“He was pretending!” Andrew said. “He wasn’t interested at all. I’m going home.”
Andrew walked out. Half the group stood up and followed him. He’s that kind of person.
I remained behind with Michael, Tom and Elliot. John resumed his ravings. Michael no longer pretended to pay attention. I was nearing the end of my tether. After what felt like a really long time (it was probably only five or ten minutes) I said it was late and that I needed to go. Michael and Elliot followed me out but Tom remained behind.
We waited for him outside the pub. He was from interstate. We weren’t going to abandon him but we wondered how long things would drag on from here.
But Tom wrapped things up in just a few minutes. Without Michael or Andrew to compete against, John set aside his bravado and spoke honestly.
“I’ve never said this before,” he confessed. “But I think I’m just really lost.”
Tom gave him his contact details and told him to call when he was sober. It was a kind of a deal. If John wanted to initiate the conversation when he wasn’t drunk, then Tom would be in. They’d dedicate some time to it and do it properly.
In the cab on the way home, I praised Tom for his patience.
He shrugged. “That was me when I was 19. Let’s see if he calls.”
Later on that night I reflected on the humility and selflessness and patience that it takes to be an evangelist. It’s always going to be more fun to mess around with friends than to seek the lost. I thank God for Tom and pray that God will grow those same qualities of humility and selflessness and patience in me.
And I pray for John.
Image: Danish bar scene (McLeod)
