When Jed Smock takes his familiar spot at Speaker’s Circle intermittently in the spring and fall, a crowd almost always gathers almost revolted by his hellfire-inspired evangelicalism. The atheists and skeptics jeer as he denounces their lack of faith, the homosexuals mock him and get offended by his announcement that God hates the sin that is their life, and the rest of the campus gets a thorough tongue lashing for promiscuity, alcoholism, drug use and their wicked, wicked ways. His wife, Cindy, would take her place in the circle and jazz hands us all to the eternal hellfire as we laughed and laughed and laughed.

After a while, to me, Jed and Cindy and family’s preaching became a show, a performance, an interactive theater piece, where everyone and anyone could take part. MU SASHA, the campus group for atheists, agnostics and skeptics, would often use his preaching as an opportunity to recruit people to their own organizations. Someone once screamed passages from a biology textbook as he proselytized, freshmen (including myself at that age) would cite tired Bible passages in an attempt to trick Brother Jed, and everyone purposefully ignored him to watch Hacky-Sack Guy work his magic, which I’m still surprised Brother Jed didn’t call witchcraft.

Speaker’s Circle became a hub of activity whenever Brother Jed came to preach. And I was always grateful for it, even if I didn’t realize it at first.

In a campus so large and intimidating with so many people, I welcomed any chance to let loose my inhibitions and engage with people I normally wouldn’t. Speaker’s Circle provides that opportunity, but few rarely take it up on its offer. Instead, clubs and teams and Greek houses just use it as a place to recruit and advertise. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it just doesn’t create the same atmosphere as a visit from Brother Jed.

His preaching has sparked conversation and activity at Speaker’s Circle for years. Even if he spreads a deplorable message, he causes little harm in doing so. Few people take him seriously, and I think to a certain extent he just relishes the conversations he starts, even if the entire student body is against him.

I know his departure isn’t permanent, but I’ll miss Brother Jed and his family’s constant presence when they leave Columbia. Not because I’ll miss hearing his message, but because I don’t know whose voice can fill the void he leaves behind.

**— Travis Zimpfer
Journalism and English student
tzvwf@mail.missouri.edu**