The Sheep, The Shearer, And The Shorn

Auckland Star, Volume LXXIV, Issue 37, 13 February 1943, Page 4

The Sheep, The Shearer, And The Shorn

"The mountains skipped like rams; And the little hills like young sheep." The bleating of sheep at sunset, and ciirling blue columns of smoke rising from farm houses set in deep valleys—scenes like these bring peace to the soul and rest to eyes grown tired with looking at tram cars and buildings jostled together, and into the care-worn faces of city dwellers.

By Rev. C. W. Chandler

After listening to the murmur of human conversation in big restaurants, and to the ceaseless rumble and gear-changing of motor cars in crowded streets, the quiet countryside provides a most restful change. Cities doubtless have their own delights, but give me green fields and willows by the side of gentle streams and the friendly nod of every passerby.

Most of the books which comprise our Bible were written by rustics. That accounts for the tranquillity of so much that is found there. Abraham was a shepherd, and so were the rest of the patriarchs. Elijah roved like an Arab from cave to cave, and climbed hills, and was fed in a valley by ravens. David started out in life as a shepherd boy, and Amos was a squeezer of sycamore seeds, as well as a tender of sheep. That is why all that they wrote breathes a spirit of utter unsophistication. , There is something to be said for every youth spending at least two years working in the country, even to the extent of being forced to do so. A couple of turns on a plough would soon rob the task of any element of compulsion, while the scent of hay at harvest time, not to mention farmhouse meals, would soon wean them from all those artificial delights their "kippered" souls might crave for. (A kipper is a herring smoked, and that's what I felt like after having spent the first twenty years of my life in London). "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way, and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all." "So we thy people and the sheep of the pasture will give thee thanks for ever." The Bible as well as the Prayer Book abounds in such phrases. "We have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep."

Economic Factor There are many other reasons besides those which appear on the surface, that make the simile still more apt. Sheep are branded and shorn, and sent to the shambles, and they open not their mouths. Some years ago I started to write a book upon the subject. I remember some of the chapter headings. "The Pen," "The Drover," "The Shearer," and "The Shorn." I remember, too, the little epigram that headed the first chapter. "Sheep, like fowls, breed best in smallest pens. The poorly housed are the most prolific." In the terms of Stephen Leacock, soak those chapter headings in a bucket of water overnight, and they will expand into a reasonably sized volume on economics by the morning. I never see a factory exuding its "hands" after the whistle has blown, without thinking of sheep hurrying down a "race" after being shorn. Some years ago I had a little to do with a Gypsy Smith Mission in Sydney. I had the job of sorting the Decision Cards (thousands of them) into their various denominational pens. In front of me were a dozen baskets, a sort of drafting yard, and as I to§sed the cards into their respective enclosures, I bleated like a sheep—just for fun. B-a-a-a-a! This sound resounded across the room as another Baptist or another Anglican card fell into its proper basket. Driving Forces Yes, we are more like sheep than pride would have us imagine, and, what is more, we are more driven than led. Driven by hunger and pride, fear and greed, love and hate, and by poverty and wealth. Sometimes we try to dash through a- hole in the fence in search of freedom away from the flock, but are soon rounded up by the dogs of war, and numbered and branded and drafted into battalions, and shipped away to unknown destinations." No wonder Jesus is called "The Lamb of God" (Agnes Dei), for He was offered for us. As a sheep before her shearers, He was dumb. There's a certain sadness about the bleating of sheep, as there is about the life of humanity in general. There must be such things as "The Tears of God," for His only Son was so often "moved with compassion for the multitude." He saw them as sheep without a shepherd—no one to lead them. Our human cries on battlefields, and amid all the devastation of war, must reach the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth.

And now for a little poem I wrote twenty years ago:— I'm picking up wool in a shearing shed, Lincoln, and Cross, and Merino tared; Then spreading them out as quick as can be, Just for the "tony" classer to see. They've emptied the paddocks into the yard (Sheep can't get away with dogs on guard); And soon they'll be hurried into the pen, Then on to the "board" and out again. X would like to think that after I die, I could spread my fleeces across the sky, And be turning the dark clouds inside out, Just like a heavenly rouseabout.