I’ve no doubt that many consciences were pricked, and not least a
rather drab group of hot gospellers whose only theme seemed to be:
‘unless you get born again like us then you are eternally lost’ Well, we
stood at their side for a while until we raised our banners up from the
ground. What they read obviously disturbed them and one said he’d rather
that we moved a little away – which of course we did; and then I let
them know that I could preach louder than they. Well, quite hilarious if
not so downright sad! If one’s concept of salvation only embraces the
self styled elect and saved who frequently ranter in several city side
streets, then give me the company of their ‘presumed’ damned every day!
As for the poster I held displaying a sweat shed for breeding turkeys
intensively, my mind goes back to one’s first parish. Indeed, it was one
of late1960s affluence. Yes, and following a possible visit to a young
couple following a christening, the young farmer was most anxious to
show me how he’d ventured out in to an intensive form of breeding. ‘The
thing for the future’, he assured me and – on reaching a large shed - as
he began to slide open the doors it might have appeared as if he was
about to show me his latest ‘baby’ of a Mercedes or a Bentley! But
instead, to my horror there was a loud and eerie humming in my ears; a
warm stench; and long necks looming out of darkness. These were Turkeys
crammed together and looking as if from a Frankenstein or Alexander
Poe’s horror film. Indeed, I was utterly aghast, yet tried to cover it.
‘Might not this new innovation be a trifle cruel?’ I hesitated to
suggest. ‘Not at all; it’s the farming of the future; and I’m in on it!’
was the gist of his hearty reply.
Well, I went home to the rectory deeply disturbed by what I’d seen.
What was the matter with me? He wasn’t disturbed at this new innovation,
which would certainly increase his profits astronomically. Perhaps I was
over sensitive. However, armed with a leaflet or two of relevant
literature and also aware of my responsibility for ‘the cure of souls’ I
returned a week or so later. But this time the young farmer was out; and
I had time to speak in depth with his young and hospitable wife who over
nine months previous had been married in to affluence.
I can only remember that I won her heart over how defenceless birds
and animals needed to be justly and lovingly cared for; and she could
see no reason why they should not revert to the previous free range
lifestyle. Well, we left most amicably and not without a prayer by
myself offered for her, her husband, their young baby; and all the
livestock within their care.
Consequently – quite unexpectedly – several days later, who drove up
to the rectory in his red Jaguar car (registered VET 1) than did the
local veterinary surgeon? With much difficulty, but aided by two sticks
because of his crippling M.S., the fellow demanded to see me. One can
only say that he was utterly livid: “Someone needs to take it on himself
to address you, and I have taken it upon myself to do so as you are
upsetting quite a number of my top clientele. Indeed, you have almost
created a rift between a young man and wife over alleged animal cruelty
on their farm!…………”. Well, a most heated debate followed in which I gave
as good as I got. The simple gist of the matter was that intensive
factory farming methods were one hundred percent humane as far as the
vet was concerned; and as for my previous criticism from the pulpit of
vivisection – there was absolutely no cruelty whatsoever in the same.
Well, my final words to him - during the period that happened to be
Advent - was that God’s love had conquered my heart and, like John the
Baptist, I would preach the truth and rely on Him. His parting words
from the rectory were stark and almost threatening: ‘be very careful
that someone does not knock off your head, like they did John the
Baptist’s!
Yes, diplomacy has never been my top asset! A Church In Wales rector
once said to me: ‘always avoid a direct confrontation!’. Well, I think
I’ve lived in Yorkshire long enough to call a spade a spade – if not
sometimes a shovel! Yet in unintentionally offending anyone else, it
always hurts me far more than it does them. However, I dare not remain
silent when dumb creatures are being horrifically exploited. I’d rather
be a John The Baptist than an ecclesiastical jellyfish (void of
backbone). Jesus Himself was far from tactful. That’s why the church
leaders so despised Him; handed Him over to be flogged; yes, and
horribly crucified!
Friend, may the joy of the angels, the eagerness of the shepherds,
the perseverance of the wise men, the obedience of Joseph & Mary, & the
peace of the Christ Child, be God’s wondrous gift to You!
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