While Chaplain over the Aberdeen Infirmary, as well
as other hospitals of the city, one also had the oversight of a
delightful church called St Clements. What is more, I was not averse to
writing letters to the morning and evening newspapers; and such letters
mostly related to the animal cause. Well, one day I forwarded a letter
of complaint concerning Cancer Research; the reason being their request
that carols be sung so that the financial proceeds would go to them!
Well, knowing the appalling abuse of animals related
to their research, but also aware that my bishop’s previous wife had
died of cancer, I wrote my letter with as much tact and Christian
charity as I could possibly muster. Unfortunately, however, this did not
stop an intensely enraged fellow from calling around to St Clements
House and pouring forth his wrath. What I had written in the press must
certainly have touched a sore spot, and to say that this well financed
employee of the said foundation was livid, is indeed an understatement,
and he was by no means willing to reason things out over an offer of tea
and eatables.
Around three years on, and Doreen and I had moved
from the Granite City to a delightful parish on the Moray Firth.
However, hardly had I had chance to settle in as Rector than did a
funeral occur within one of our churches that necessitated taking a firm
stand. No charge was made for funerals by the church or myself, even
though the funds within that church were far from healthy. A factor
Doreen knew, only too well, as she was the Treasurer appointed by the
bishop, and had to make the books balance!
Well, this particular funeral was exceptionally well
attended; the Service went well, but then no sooner had I pronounced the
benediction than did two forceful ladies come forward - walking the full
length of the isle and right up in to the sanctuary, where the altar
stood - and from the latter they took up the two well endowed church
collection plates. “What are you doing with these?” I asked.
“Oh the contents are ours! It was mentioned in the paper that it’s for
Cancer Research” they replied. They sought to convince me that such
was the local practice around the other neighbouring churches, and
assumed it was their right. Well, I may have a long fuse, but I can
assure you that they got more than a bit of my mind! It would be the
first and the last time for them to get away with such downright cheek
now that I was installed as Rector.
Later, representatives of this most affluent of
charities – notorious for furthering vivisection and with most
prestigious buildings and highly remunerated staff – still turned up at
both of my churches. Predecessors had, unfortunately, allowed this! But
now the collections that were taken up during the services went for the
work of God; and the most that Cancer Research made was through standing
outside and rattling their boxes while the mourners left the respective
house of God. Such was their early persistence, but in the eyes of the
average parishioner, ‘they lost far more than they’d hoped to gain!’
It is my contention that – in the long run – no
lasting good can come out of mean and cruel deeds. It didn’t benefit
those Nazi medical scientists who chose to experiment on ‘conveniently
assumed’ lesser and inferior breeds; and similarly it will not be found
to have benefited us! Indeed, if only the time and money spent on
intensely cruel research had been spent on God honouring humane
research, then what a far better world we would surely all be living in
today!
I would only add that since retiring to North Wales fifteen years ago
the animal based cancer research consortium did suggest one late
November that soon would be the time for churches to carefully consider
singing carols. Yes, for the financial benefit of Cancer Research! This
was in the early days of my retirement. Well, I published a pamphlet on
the theme – a revised edition of an earlier publication. It received
prominent publicity in the Weekly Chronicle; and since then – touchwood!
- I have not been aware of any similar efforts by them in subsequent
years.
Animal Padre's
