Pilgrimage of Joy …

IRISH STEW
W. Carl Ketcherside

There was more than one reason why the brethren in Belfast felt that I could serve the cause we loved by coming to North Ireland. For one thing there had been some upsetting things happen during a recent mission conducted by C.E. McGaughey. Brother McGaughey had attempted to persuade those who had previously been immersed upon their faith in Jesus, in various groups, to be baptized again at his hands. The office-bearers of the congregation forbade him to “un-Christianize” those who had lived for Christ for years in order to “re-Christianize” them through his offices.

Brother McGaughey was quite adamant and when he influenced a few members of the Irish Baptist movement to cast their lot with the brethren he insisted that he was going to baptize them “for the remission of sins.” The leaders argued that when one was immersed in order to obey God and upon his firm conviction that Jesus was the Messiah and God’s Son it was for the remission of sins whether the believers knew that at the time or not. Forgiveness of sins was the design of God for those who were immersed in conformity with His will and not the design of man for being immersed. It was their contention that to immerse those who had previously been immersed, just to make them members of “the Church of Christ” was sectarian in nature and would be what American Baptists had always practiced.

The Irish brethren also resented the padding of reports in American journals of the number of baptisms abroad when, as they said, most of the people had been children of God for years before being taught the way of truth more perfectly and made into statistics by American preachers. The issue came to a head one night when Brother McGaughey had convinced some they should make their calling “safe” by submitting to baptism again. When he announced this at the close of the meeting the elders arose and turned the service over to another brother while they held a conference with the preacher in a rear room. An hour passed by while the congregation sang and praised God, but when another hour was well on its way and the participants in the discussion had not reappeared, the audience was dismissed. The contention behind the scenes continued as the Irish brethren fought to keep from becoming a foreign auxiliary to an American religious movement. Unalterable in their position against re-immersion, the mission of Brother McGaughey ended, but not until some unrest had been created among the saints.

It was felt that if I came to engage in a positive effort it would be a settling influence and have a quieting effect upon the disciples. Too. it was proposed that I do a good deal of evangelistic work, proclaiming the Good News in street meetings and visiting industrial plants for noon meetings with the workers. The brethren were already in the process of leading an effort in a new housing development which had grown up in the suburbs after the Nazi bombers had wrecked a great deal of the city and literally gutted some sections of it.

We had our final prayer together as a family around the breakfast table on February 8, before Jerry, dressed in his air force uniform, had to leave for work with his company officers. He was twenty-one years old and six feet tall. At nine o’clock, in Union Station, I said goodbye to Nell, Sharon Sue, and a little girl from Honduras who was living with us. As the gate closed behind me and I boarded the train there was a lump in my throat and a prayer in my heart. Two days later I went aboard the S.S. America, the largest and fastest passenger ship ever built in our country. Promptly at noon the gangplank was lifted and we edged away from the pier.

Both of my travel companions in the tourist stateroom to which I was assigned were Catholic men, but poles apart in life. One was an illiterate seaman off the streets of Cork who had sailed the seven seas. He knew every major port on the face of the earth. When I first saw him he was lying in a stupor in one of the top bunks, sleeping off a hard drinking spree which had lasted two days and nights. The other was a member of the faculty of the University of Chicago, a graduate of Illinois University and Notre Dame, and an authority in the history and language of the Celts. A more divergent trio to occupy a single room could not have been selected by a computer with an electrical short in its mechanism. We were together for five days and nights, and if I learned nothing else I found out that Catholics are not all cut from the same pattern. It was a good lesson for one who had grown up to stereotype them as we did about every other group.

I had engaged in many interesting spiritual conversations with scores of folk before we anchored off Cobh early in the morning of February 16. Ireland bound passengers disembarked here and were taken to shore in a lighter and transported to Cork by ship’s train. I had a half day to explore this ancient city which began with a religious settlement in 622 A.D. I already knew from my study of history that it fell to Oliver Cromwell during the English Civil War and I wanted to see as much of it as possible. I walked at a rapid pace all morning from one point to another and it was a relief when, at 1:15 p.m. I boarded the crack train “The Enterprise”, and settled down for the almost seven hours of travel to Belfast.

I shall never forget that when I stepped from the train in the huge station I heard voices raised in song. Almost the entire congregation was present and the waves of music reverberated through the corridors, “For Christ and the church let our voices ring”. It was long after midnight when I retired to my room at 8 Sunninghill Garden, in the hospitable home of William and Margaret Hendren and their good family.

We lost no time getting into the work. The next evening was a welcome meeting with tea being served at the humble meetinghouse on Berlin Street. A beautiful table was set on the speaker’s platform where I was to sit with the five men in the oversight—Brethren Hamilton, Millar, George, Charles and William Hendren. A well arranged program continued until time to hurry to the nearest stop to catch the double-decker bus to the Cavehill area where I lodged. During the evening a program of events was outlined to occupy every night of the more than three months I would be in Belfast.

On each Lord’s Day morning we would meet at 11:30 for the breaking of bread. The edification talk at these gatherings would be delivered by a member of the congregation. At 3:00 p.m. I would teach the children of the community, and at 4:00 p.m. have a class of young men and women. Following that we would hold three or four street meetings at strategic corners and return for the gospel meeting at 7:00 p.m. On Monday nights we would have a meeting for song and praise led by George Hendren. On Tuesday nights I would teach the neighborhood children (there were more than a hundred at the first session). On Wednesday nights there would be a gospel meeting, on Thursday evening a meeting for prayer and devotion in a home, and on Friday night a study in depth which I would lead.

During my stay we would also arrange for two weeks of gospel proclamation which would be especially publicized in the area. I wish that I might take you on a day-by-day trip with us and let you share every exciting minute, but space will not permit. Each new day brought its own thrill of being and at night we usually gathered in the little home of “Granny Hendren” who lived with her daughters Edith and Mary close to the meeting-place. Here we recounted the events of the day and talked and prayed together until time for the last bus to run.

On March 6, I was invited by Mr. Oliver, assistant supervisor of the government press bureau, to attend a sitting of the Parliament, with eleven other observers. After being conducted to my seat in the beautiful Senate room by an usher in full dress, I was treated to a scene of almost medieval dignity and pageantry. The Speaker, who sat upon a throne like chair on a raised dais, wore an imposing robe and a powdered wig which fell in waves to his shoulders. The Clerk of the Senate, who sat before him, had a shorter wig, with marcelled waves and two tiny tails tied with ribbons and hanging down his back.

It was my good fortune to be present in a session in which cabinet ministers were being seriously questioned as to their action. I was especially interested in the Minister of Agriculture who was charged with supervising rationing. All of us were limited to four ounces of red meat per week. The cooking fat ration amounted to two ounces, and we were allowed two eggs per week. This could be supplemented by horse, whale or beaver meat, which were not limited when available. A black market had developed in pork ribs, knees and bones, which the Secretary affirmed was being carried on from England in spite of the efforts of the secret service of Her Majesty’s government.

It was when the Minister of Home Affairs was put on the grill that things really “got cracking.” Ireland seemed to have more than her share of gypsies who roamed the countryside in their gaily-colored horse-drawn caravans. Parliament had ordered that some method be devised and steps taken to ensure a suitable education for the children of gypsies and other vagrants. Included in the directive was religious training. The Ministry might as well have been ordered to contrive a means of educating the winds that blew across the landscape, or the waves of the sea. Gypsy children were as elusive as little wild animals.

During this discussion which became heated I heard some of the most penetrating satire and biting sarcasm delivered under cover of urbane politeness. I could catch a glimpse of the deep hostility which has long since burst its bonds in what is now referred to in Ireland as “the troubles.” Some of the members of Parliament represented a Catholic constituency. They raised pointed questions as to the kind of religious teaching to be bestowed by law upon gypsy children. I trust I am not prejudiced but I want to testify that the Protestants who sat on the benches were among the most capable and quick-witted men I have ever heard. Their sharp repartee was something else!

The next day, Mr. McIvor, the efficient headmaster of Mount Collyer School, invited me to spend the entire day, or as much time as I could spare, at the public school which he supervised. I had already spent two hours with him, exploring the difference in educational concepts and goals in our two countries. Mount Collyer was a new adventure in schooling for the more than 800 youngsters in attendance. School began each morning with prayer, scripture readings from the Old and New Testaments, and a brief devotional talk.

The law requires that there be five classes in religion each week for public school students. I was permitted to examine the course of study which had to be non-sectarian in content and presentation. It was very comprehensive of the narrative portions of the Old and New Testament through the book of Acts. The discipline was both rigid and remarkable. When the headmaster and I visited certain rooms every pupil arose and stood at respectful attention until he told them to be seated. When we left a room the student nearest the door arose and opened it, remaining at attention to close it after we had gone.

I stayed for lunch and would not have missed the experience. Most of the children went home for their noon meal but about 200 stayed. Luncheon was prepared in a central kitchen and conveyed by special vans to each school. The day I was present the supervisor of all lunch rooms in city schools was present and graciously answered all of my questions. The 200 children filed in and quietly took their places at the tables. It was unbelievably quiet. A teacher gave the signal and all bowed their heads and returned thanks in unison, then quietly arose and passed by where the food was being dipped up by student helpers. The menu was Irish stew, mashed potatoes and cake with pudding sauce over it. Milk was provided at each plate. The cost of the meal was six cents in American monetary value. The day I attended more than 30 children were fed free because of poverty-stricken conditions in their homes.

The next day I was invited to speak to a group of men at the shipyards, the largest such yards in the world. I was taken on a quick inspection tour. Three huge aircraft carriers were in the process of construction as well as numerous other vessels. One of these was a mammoth oil tanker for Norway. Another was a whaling ship to be fully equipped to process every ounce of the huge catches. Daily religious meetings were held in the Plumbing Department and here I was greeted by more than 250 men. A loudspeaker system had been set up for our use so that all might hear. Sandy and Nat Cooper, who had accompanied me, sang a hymn at the beginning and end of the thirty minute period, and after the message had been given we passed out more than 200 tracts to the workmen going back to their appointed stations.

My life was enriched when Albert Winstanley came over from England to work with me for four days. We shared together in the children’s meeting, where he was especially adept, and in the gospel meeting where we took turns announcing the blessed facts about the divine breakthrough of the flesh curtain by God’s Son. Together we went to a lecture on “The Seven Seals” by a recognized leader of the British-Israel theory and remained to question some of the more rabid followers of the view. But, best of all were the street meetings, four of which we held one afternoon in company with Nat Cooper, a young man of promise. We gathered some 80 boys and girls and led them down the street, singing at the top of their voices. We stopped at street corners where everyone who passed by halted and gave us audience and we took turns preaching the kingdom of God and the way of the cross.

Time was passing rapidly and the days were filled with all kinds of intriguing things. There were visits to linen mills, to manufacturing concerns, to public parks, and other places where opportunities were presented to witness of the grace of God. We were seeing precious souls added to the one body each week. Some of these came in response to public declaration of God’s love, others after I had conversed and prayed with them privately. The saints were rejoicing in the confessions of faith made in our meetings and all of us were made aware of the power of the Word and the moving of the Spirit in the hearts of men. The old, old story was still new and vital!