Southland Times:
COMMUNITY CULT CRACKING THE CORPORATE?
The Servants of Christ religious community have sparked controversy with the latest decision to modernise their growing egg business.
Managing Director Jebediah Mathews takes responsibility for the decision to no longer hand weigh and grade their free-range eggs and instead use industrial machinery — a move he says was necessary in order to comply with the New Zealand egg standards and grades set by the Egg Producers Federation of New Zealand Code of Practice 2002.
The move goes somewhat against the principles of the community, who fear the impact of modernity and the temptations of technology on their children, church and traditional Christian world.
However, Mr Mathews is quick to point out that this step into the modern world will not affect the way the community lives in their own homes. “We will still hold to our fundamental beliefs, and that of our Lord when we leave work.”
New Zealanders eat around 250 eggs per person per year, and God’s Own Eggs supply Invercargill with a large number of those, employing 14 workers and with over 5000 free-range hens.
“Thanks again for letting me tag along,” Faith said, smiling over at Tania.
“No problem, it’s been really nice catching up after all this time. I mean, it’s been lovely keeping in touch over Facebook and seeing your kids and everything but it’s not quite like being face to face, is it?”
“Definitely not.”
“I see your family sometimes when I’m in town visiting Mum. I don’t think they remember me at all.”
“They wouldn’t acknowledge you if they did. I wasn’t meant to have any friends outside the community. I really wish we could have had that kind of friendship where we hung out at each other’s house on the weekend and went to the movies and stuff. My girls have that, thank goodness. I’m so glad that they do.”
“Yeah, well, you were my only friend really. Nobody wanted to hang out with the nerdy kid whose mother was the principal.”
“You weren’t nerdy, you were smart. Although it wasn’t such a cool thing in those days, was it? Anyway, I’m sure it was because of me they didn’t want to hang out with you.” They both laughed comfortably. “I’d love to come and say hello to your mum while I’m in town. She was so wonderful at helping me persuade my parents to let me go nursing.”
“You should call round if you get time. She’d love to see you too — often asks about you. Don’t take this the wrong way but she was so pleased you never came back. She thought you’d end up being forced to.”
“Even if I hadn’t gotten pregnant I wouldn’t have. I was determined it was my way out.”
“Yeah, I remember you always said that. Especially once you met Daniel. So, he’s still teaching?”
“Yes, and he still loves it. Honestly, the man has the patience of a saint. He’s put up with me all these years.”
Tania looked over at her briefly before turning her attention back to the road. “I’d hardly say he’s had to ‘put up with you’. He always adored you and clearly still does. And why wouldn’t he? You’re lovely.”
“He didn’t have much choice, did he? The God Squad girl gets knocked up, expects the boy to marry her …”
“Faith. It’s not like you forced him at gunpoint. You guys would have ended up together anyway.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he would have chosen someone else.” It was something Faith had wondered. She’d felt so naive and inexperienced when she’d met Daniel. Fresh out of the Servants. It had been years before she’d really come to terms with her upbringing, and his patience and support had never wavered, but she wondered if they hadn’t had Rachel whether things would have ended differently.
“But he did choose you. He was going out with that girl in the room opposite mine — what was her name?”
“Paula White.”
“That’s right, Paula. And left her broken-hearted because he was smitten with you.”
“Me. The strange, quiet one.”
“The lovely, quiet one. With a wicked sense of humour. Stop putting yourself down. You guys have been together all this time. That’s gotta mean something.”
It did, she supposed. They’d weathered the storm of mortgages and parenthood and things hadn’t always been easy financially, especially when Faith had gone back to study, but they’d muddled along together. There wasn’t anyone she could imagine doing it with other than Daniel.
“So, how was the official opening and birthday bash last night?” Tania asked, and Faith spent the next while regaling her with all the details of the party. The highlight had been doing karaoke with Tim Shadbolt, although he sang terribly.
Tania dropped her at Charity’s house just before noon. They travelled up the long sealed road leading to an imposing stone fence with shingle pillars on each side, guarding the entrance. There was nothing to announce the community and no bolted gate separated them from the rest of the town but they were situated slightly into the countryside, a small cluster of streets with modest houses. Her nerves were at their peak by the time they pulled up outside. The house was a wooden, one-level, cottage-style building with plain cotton curtains at the window and a natural timber door.
Faith waved Tania off and stood outside, feeling suddenly nervous. She’d spoken to Charity maybe once a year since she’d left, a bit more recently, but she didn’t really know her sister any more. They’d been so close as kids, but when Faith left, it was expected that Charity wouldn’t have any contact with her.
Growing up, Charity had been so calm and accepting. So many times she’d covered for Faith, who’d started to question everything, and stopped her from getting into trouble with their father. She was smart but had no desire to further her education, accepting her lot when Jebediah had been selected as her husband. That was probably the thing that had made Faith decide she would push to further her education, seeing her favourite sister married to a man she didn’t love, barely knew really, and had no input in choosing. That and hearing Tania talk about things like the boys and parties of the future, like they were the most normal things in the world.
The door opened and Charity was standing there, smiling widely at Faith. She was wearing a long grey dress and Faith realised it was her church outfit and she must have just got home.
“Blessed be, sister. I thought I’d never see you again,” Charity choked.
“Me too,” Faith said as they hugged. They were both crying. Charity glanced around. “Come inside,” she said, and Faith was suddenly aware her sister was risking incurring the displeasure of the community. She hadn’t been shunned, but she was not someone who they would welcome back, not now that she was non-practising. An outsider.
Charity lived next door to their oldest sister, Grace, who in turn lived two houses down from their parents. Hope lived next door to their parents on the other side. Faith just couldn’t imagine it. Daniel’s parents were lovely but lived an hour away and she wasn’t sure either of them would want to live in each other’s pockets like that.
Faith followed Charity inside and had a sudden moment of panic as the familiarity flooded back. For a moment she wanted to flee. The house was spotless of course — after all, cleanliness is next to Godliness — with only the most necessary of modern conveniences. No fancy kitchen appliances or TV. The furniture was plain and functional. There was a painting of the Last Supper over the hearth and a needlework sampler above the dining table that proclaimed ‘Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His love endures forever — Psalm 136:1’. Faith felt a lump in her throat as she remembered Charity working on that. She had started one as well and she wondered vaguely what had happened to it. It had been something about the Lord being a rock, but she couldn’t remember the exact phrase now. These were the only visible decorations aside from the large family Bible, given to every couple on their marriage, which was displayed on a table next to one of four sturdy-looking living room chairs. Nobody in the Servants of Christ had a sofa, as that would mean getting too comfortable.
“Jebediah isn’t home?” Faith asked.
“He stayed behind after Worship to talk to some of the men. He’ll be home soon for lunch.” Charity showed Faith to a small bedroom with a single bed. There was a plain green quilt on the bed and another needlework, ‘I have no greater joy to hear that my children are walking in the truth — 3 John 1:4’. Faith realised this would have been a child’s room, had Charity and Jebediah been able to have them. It was the saddest thing, and almost shameful in the community, when a couple weren’t blessed with children.
“Your husband — Jebediah — he’s okay with me staying?”
Charity smiled at her and reached out and took her hand in her own, squeezing lightly.
“He is. He’s a nice man, Faith, and, believe it or not, I’m very fond of him. Did you know he went to the technical college in Invercargill? So I guess you’re not the only one who went away and got yourself all educated.”
Faith looked at Charity who was grinning, just how she remembered from when they were kids, and she realised she was teasing her. “He’s actually quite a modern man, for one of the Servants. Father isn’t at all happy with some of the changes he’s making to the egg production.”
“I was hoping you might come back up north with me,” Faith admitted.
“Please, don’t talk like that. I’m happy with my life. I have my chores and I help out with father and of course there are Grace and Hope’s children. I could never leave them. And Jebediah. I feel lucky God chose him for me and I’ve accepted that perhaps He chose for us to be childless so I could fulfil His wishes in other ways.”
“By caring for a sick old man?”
“Not just that. Grace gets tired very easily and needs help.”
“She has five, doesn’t she?” Faith knew there was no point suggesting her sister should have bred less, and it would be a little insensitive to say so to Charity anyway. Grace had always played the helpless female role well, Faith recalled. She did feel a bit sad she’d never got to know any of her nieces or nephews.
“Yes, four girls and a boy. The same as mother and father. Hope has two of each.”
She helped Charity set out lunch. As it was Sunday and a day of rest there was no cooking or other work allowed and Charity had roasted a chicken and baked bread the day before. There was cheese, made by the community and popular locally, but not nationwide, and tomatoes from the garden. It was a nice, simple meal, as all meals were here and although she enjoyed it, Faith couldn’t help think about how she’d have missed out on things like Brie and hummus if she’d never left. And Thai takeaways and pizza too, she mused.
Jebediah arrived home and Faith heard him in the living room. She didn’t expect he’d come into the kitchen, as men rarely did, and she trailed after Charity with the basket of bread.
Her brother-in-law looked up from where he stood, near the table, and for a long moment they just stared at each other warily.
“Greetings, sister, may the Lord show you favour,” he said finally. Faith found herself letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. If he had greeted her by name or even, as she’d expected, with no title at all, she would have known she wasn’t really welcome. Calling her ‘sister’ meant that he still saw her as that: his sister-in-law. It was a small relief.
“May the Lord give you mercy,” she automatically replied. Unexpectedly Jebediah gave her a shy smile. “Charity has talked of nothing but your visit since you called. You are welcome here with us, I hope you know that.”
“Thank you, brother.” It was amazing how Faith could just fall back to the old greetings.
They sat down for lunch and Jebediah said a short prayer, way shorter than the rambling sermon her father had given before Sunday lunch each week. He told Charity a funny story about Brother Wilson, and how he had farted during the meeting and blamed the squeaky chair. Charity giggled and he grinned back. Faith watched them with interest.
Sunday after lunch was typically a time of reflection and that had meant Bible readings from their father, and one of the children would be chosen to recite the weekly psalm. Faith had always dreaded when it was her turn as she was terrible at learning them. Luckily, being the youngest had meant a certain lenience her brother and sisters hadn’t had. Strangely, on reflection, Isaac had always been the best at them, reciting word for word and with the exact intonation their father expected. She was surprised when Jebediah picked up a book and Charity took out some knitting. Not a Bible reading to be seen or heard.
“Grace’s third, Naomi, is due to have her first baby next month,” Charity said as she deftly clicked the needles. “Hope’s daughter, Magdalene, is due to be betrothed soon so I suppose I’ll be doing this for a while.” She sounded resigned, not sad that others were having babies and not her. Perhaps after years of seeing the women in the community bring up their hordes of children, it was even a bit of a relief not to have them forced upon her.
“You always were skilled with your crafts,” Faith told her.
“Unlike me, two left hands, that’s what mother always said.”
“I remember your bread,” Charity giggled. “We really should have thrown it out, but father said that it was wasteful so we’d have to eat it. It was like chewing on cement.”
“Father would tell me to pray over it next time and I’d improve. When I didn’t, he’d say the Lord must have had more important things to worry about that day.”
“How is he? Is he really that sick?”
Charity put her knitting down. “With the Lord’s will, it won’t be long. He’s grumpy every day he wakes and is still here.”
“As are we all when we hear that once again he hasn’t left us,” Jebediah added to Faith’s surprise, looking up from his book.
“Jeb, may He forgive you your shortcomings.” But Charity was smiling down into her lap as she picked her knitting up and the click clack continued. Jebediah carried on reading as though he hadn’t spoken at all.
“I can only imagine, he’s always been eager to be called home.” The community believed that there was no greater honour than death, and therefore salvation. “Do you think I could see him? I was thinking I might go over this afternoon.”
Charity regarded Faith carefully, the knitting needles not stopping this time. “That’s why you’re here, I guess, to make your peace with him, but I wouldn’t expect too much, sister. I haven’t heard him say your name since you left. Do it for yourself, make peace for you.”
Faith nodded. She tidied the kitchen and then changed into the skirt she’d bought in Invercargill for the purpose. It fell to her ankles and she had purposefully not worn anything like it since she’d left all those years ago. It felt strange, like she was betraying her current life somehow.
“I’ll come with you,” Charity said as Faith came back into the living room. She tied a scarf over her long hair and offered one to Faith who shook her head, and they walked the short distance to their childhood home.
“It’s strange, coming back,” Faith said, eyeing the house as they walked up the path. It was exactly as she remembered, the same white weatherboard house with dark-green trim. The apple tree on the front lawn was bigger, the grass neatly cut — thanks to Samuel, Hope’s son, Charity told her. Her palms felt sweaty and she wiped them on her skirt nervously as they approached the door.
“I’ve told them you’re coming but don’t expect too much. You know they’re not going to welcome you with open arms,” Charity warned.
Faith followed Charity and stopped dead in the living room doorway. She was sure her mother was wearing the exact same Sunday dress she’d been wearing twenty years ago. She’d aged, of course, was plumper, greyer and more wrinkled.
“May the Lord show you favour,” Charity said.
“May the Lord give you mercy,” their mother replied, not looking at Faith.
“May the Lord show you favour,” Faith blurted. Her mother didn’t reply.
“Daughter, make your father a cup of tea,” she said, addressing Charity. Wordlessly Charity went into the kitchen. Faith gazed around. Tears pricked at her eyes and she felt like crying. The house seemed to be unchanged. The same worn chairs with the scratchy brown fabric. The old oak sideboard that had belonged to Faith’s great-grandfather with the huge family Bible sitting on top of it. She wondered if her and Isaac’s names had been crossed out of it. There was a tapestry of a very solemn Mary with the baby Jesus and a plain wooden cross decorating the walls, just as they’d been all Faith’s childhood. Even the smell of linseed oil was the same. She’d never been able to use it, instead choosing a lemon furniture polish for her own house.
“Mother,” she said. She sounded as though she were pleading.
“You weren’t invited here. Why did you come?”
“I had to come, I had to say goodbye. Do you think he’ll see me?” At least her mother had said not invited rather than not welcome.
“I won’t stop you from seeing him, by the grace of the Almighty. He’s in his room.”
Faith turned but was stopped by her mother’s voice. “You look well, daughter.”
She wanted to throw herself at her mother like she had when she was young, to feel her plump arms around her, but instead she just nodded, afraid she’d burst into tears if she tried to speak.
The hallway was dim, her footsteps echoing on the bare wood floor. Faith paused outside her parents’ room and then pushed open the door. She was assaulted by the awful smell of old person and that sweet, cloying stench of sickness.
The man lying in the single bed near the window wasn’t her father. Her father had been a big man, tall and solid. He’d had a shock of almost black hair and a thick beard. His eyes had been sharp and vibrant. This man was small and shrivelled, with sparse grey hair, his beard white and patchy. The eyes that peered back at her distrustfully were the same though. He turned his head towards the wall.
“May the Lord show you favour,” she almost whispered.
There was no reply. Her father continued to stare at the wall. Faith reluctantly moved closer and took a seat next to his bed. The chair was one from the dining room table.
She sat there for what seemed like ages. Really, it was probably no more than five minutes. Faith thought of all the things she should say to him but nothing came out. He didn’t look at her and didn’t utter a word. In the end she stood and went back out into the kitchen.
Charity was talking to her sister Hope. The resemblance between all of the sisters had always been strong, but Hope’s hair was now steel grey like their mother’s. She wore it in the customary long braid which had been twisted on top of her head into a bun, and she looked just like Faith remembered her mother looking last time she had seen her.
“Oh, Faith. May the Lord show you favour.” To Faith’s surprise, Hope reached forward and wrapped Faith in a quick hug. “This is my youngest daughter, Magdalene. Magdalene, greet your Aunt Faith.”
“May the Lord show you favour,” Magdalene replied dutifully, but she was staring at Faith curiously.
“Did you see father?” Hope asked her.
“He wouldn’t talk to me. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected him to.”
“Well, no, it would have been a shock for him to see you again too, I guess. At least you have now, should he be blessed to be taken by our Lord soon. I shouldn’t say so, sister, but I’m pleased to see you.”
“I’m really pleased to see you too, Hope. Is Grace here?”
Hope shook her head and she and Charity shared a look.
“Grace doesn’t want to see you,” Charity told her. She doesn’t want any of her children to meet you either.”
“Can I meet your other children? Do you have grandchildren as well?” They were interrupted by their mother before Hope had time to answer.
“I think you should go home now, daughter. It’s the Sabbath and you should attend to your husband,” she said to Charity. Faith noticed she didn’t say the same thing to Hope.
Charity nodded and looked at Faith. “Come on then, sister, God be with you all.”
“Mother, can I go with Aunt Charity?” Magdalene asked suddenly. “She was going to help me with my needlepoint.”
“Sure, if my sister doesn’t mind.”
“Of course not, she’s always welcome.” Charity smiled at Magdalene. They stopped in the entrance to put on their scarves.