There is no sawdust on the streets of Leslieville.

James McKay had had enough. He and his family were enjoying a perfectly relaxing Sunday evening, digesting a delicious dinner and enjoying some television when he and his neighbours' peace were, once again, shaken by the bellowing strains of Amazing Grace and thundering citations from Deuteronomy.

No, James doesn't live near some roadside carnival where the sand or sawdust might get into his shoes, and the year isn't 1930. This is Leslieville, a charming 'hood in the Toronto east end, it's 2010, and he and his neighbours were fed up.

The folks from the Highfield Road Gospel Hall were at it again. Like clockwork, a handful of the devoutly faithful appeared one recent evening on the otherwise quiet, tree-lined residential street and, once again, did everything possible to alert the locals of their impending, divinely-planned doom should they ignore the Lord's Word.

Well dressed and very audible, they stood before a particular house. They'd been in front of that house before. Was it because, as some among them would later claim, the fire hydrant there provided a spot where the cars wouldn't be able to park and crowd them in? Or was it because the couple residing in the home they crowded before to shout and sing just happened to be gay?

James got his camera. He walked a few doors down to that house. He asked the people to leave. They refused, stating their right to be there. James continued to talk with them, and gradually, more of his neighbours came out of their homes too. Some of them knew the gay couple and were angry for them. Some of them simply saw an awaited confrontation finally happening. Someone began capturing events on video. The Highfield Road people were surprised, but remained adamant.

"We, the people of this neighbourhood, are asking you to leave," they were told. Eventually, when more and more residents began to crowd them with their displeasure, they went away, but not before threatening that they'd be back.

None of this would have been even slightly newsworthy had the people from Highfield Road Gospel Hall accepted that the very folks they were trying their style of outreach to simply weren't buying it, and that in fact, they'd actually been aggravating them.

None of this would have made a blip on the internet or the newspapers or the talk radio shows had they simply apologized for causing a disturbance and went home to their pot roasts.

In other words, if they had been conscientious. Polite, even.

But no. As is all too common in this city, it had to be an argument about who was, and who wasn't, 'more right' than the other guy. One might have expected more from the self-styled representatives of the Prince of Peace, because they certainly weren't providing any to the people on that residential street.

That the group was targeting the gay household is what made the news. Since then, voices from both sides have begun to suggest that perhaps this was a misunderstanding, although not all are convinced.

But whether or not the church group was genuinely targeting the gay couple's home, the response also demonstrates a building resentment in the Leslieville community toward the loud, boistrous proselytizing and condescending door-knocking on their streets. They've been called "sinners" to their face. They've been subjected to regular, systematic disturbances. Families with small children have probably altered the bedtimes of toddlers, and those who work graveyard shifts must be completely thrilled.

The group defends its loudness. In a recent National Post article, a member of Highfield Road (who would not give his name) stated that such street sermons are "not just so one household can hear it, (but) so many can hear it. Of course it's not a common thing anymore," he said.

That's correct; it isn't. Neither are public lynchings, lawn jockeys, war toys, asbestos pipe coverings, cans of lead paint, and any number of other unhealthy things that were commonplace fifty or one hundred years ago. Perhaps it's 'not a common thing anymore' because, in the evening on a residential street in a pluralistic society, it's completely inappropriate?

Ya think?

"It's not like we're going, forcing religion down people's throats," he adds.

Hrm. Really?

"We have the authority to preach the gospel," says another unnamed church member in a YouTube video.

Don Hutchinson, vice-president of the Evangelical Fellowship of Canada, has supported the church group's residential prayer campaign, citing Canadian laws concerning freedoms of religion and expression, as well as the long history of evangelical street preaching. When suggested to him that Leslieville residents believe evangelicals don't have the right to 'shout on their streets,' he replies to journalists by stating, "Yes. We do."

Nice guy.

One might expect that a religious group seeking converts, or to at least receive a reasonably favourable response to their message, would approach people in a far less confrontationally invasive way. That this church group does not, and that numerous members have gone on record to defend their more audacious approaches, says a lot about their consciousness and attitude toward others who may (or even may not) believe differently.

Proselytizing is an ugly, disclusive, invasive, arrogant, confrontational process with condescending undertones. It sends the message that a pluralistic society is in itself bereft of value and merit, that diversity is something to be undermined, that regimentation is not only desirable but divinely sanctioned. There is a difference between being on the street and engaging in religious celebration in an inclusive way, and to repeatedly knock on doors or bellow on a residential street during a family's dinner or social hour to browbeat others into one's own personal paradigm.

The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, of which Canada is a part, declares that "freedom to manifest one's religion or beliefs may be subject only to such limitations as are prescribed by law and are necessary to protect public safety, order, health, or morals or the fundamental rights and freedoms of others."

"We've been doing this for seventy years," one church member argued with the crowd around him, "and we'll be back, by the will of God."

"And we've hated it the whole time," replied a resident.

But maybe, before they do, they'll take this experience as a lesson on how to treat their fellow man. I'm no expert, but I suspect their boss would approve.