Raymond Reid Responds
Introduction: Raymond, who wrote The Gate Seldom Found, was asked to respond to my critique of his book. His response was posted in the thread
Re: The Gate Seldom Found (book by Raymond Reid)
on November 2, 2004, 3:18 pm, in reply to "Re: The Gate Seldom Found (book by Raymond Reid)". It is posted here on PTO because it is considered part of the public domain, since it was posted on the public Internet forum known as the Truth Meetings Board. The only modifications to his post have been re-formatting for appearance.
Dear List,
Bryan asked me to respond to Clay Randall’s ‘First Impressions of The Gate Seldom
Found’. Why, I wondered, should I pass judgement on anyone’s honest reaction to the
work? Isn’t Clay’s opinion valid for him? After all each of us is the sum of our
experiences which ultimately shape the paradigm, the filter through which we view the
world around us.
If, as a child, we’ve been badly burned by a kitchen wood stove we’ll be wary of wood
stoves from that day forward. On the other hand if we’ve gathered around a cracklinbg
country cookstove with good friends and family and have been warmed and cheered,
we’ll feel quite different about wood stoves. The novel itself affords a glimpse of that:
Alistair threw a few chunks of hardwood into the firebox, and Priscilla passed around buttered
tea biscuits and large mugs of hot milk and cocoa. The tangy smell of wood smoke gave a relaxing
ambience as the men talked about the drop in hog prices, the bull Alistair had for sale and how much hay
was left in Bill’s mow. . . .
"It'll sure be good to get the cattle back out to pasture for the summer," Bill said. "They're a lot
of work in the stable, feeding and cleaning them out and all. But that's a good couple of months away
yet."
Stephen leaned back and hooked his thumbs behind his thick belt. "What date do you generally
shoot for?"
"About the tenth of May if the pasture's dry enough. If you put the stock out too early, they
punch it up with their feet and damage it."
Alistair got up and stirred the fire with the poker every few minutes and each time he cleared his
throat as if to speak.
The women clustered at the other end of the wood stove, their voices mingling with the crackle
of beech and maple. "How did that recipe for buttermilk spice cake from the Herald turn out?" Alice
asked Priscilla.
Priscilla's voice rose in mirth. "A perfect flop," she chuckled. "At the last minute I forgot the
cream of tartar and the thing came out of the oven flat as a nightcap, boiled, starched and sat upon . . ."
Laughter ensued until Alice cut in sharply, "Sweets are going to be the bane of my kitchen."
So the question remains, Are wood stoves good or bad, a work of God or a tool of
the enemy? Clay’s truth is as valid for him as mine is for me.
There’s no question that The Gate Seldom Found is polemic, producing sharp
opinions both for and against, among both those within the fellowship and those like Clay
who are outside the fellowship. Novels that stand the test of time like Charles Dickens'
Oliver Twist and other works or Uncle Tom’s Cabin or even Black Beauty were written as
strong muscular works that challenged and confronted the readers of their day.
Each person’s opinion is entirely valid for them. Clay’s views, however, are not
shared by readers at large. In particular, people without any previous knowledge of the
fellowship are thrilled by the writing. Some find within its pages a freshness and vibrancy
that they claim surpasses many Christian works. I’m always surprised to find strong allies
among clergymen of various faiths who attest to the way the novel has touched them. The
doctrines that Clay finds to be repulsive are indeed celebrated in many Christian quarters
and I receive streams of email and phone calls from supporters daily. The book’s website:
www.thegateseldomfound.com lists many of these comments.
May I also assure you that any manuscript that is perceived as overtly caustic, anti-
clerical and anti-intellectual would never be accepted by a major Christian publishing
house. Editors comb each work, line by line, for it’s acceptability and marketability
among mainstream readers.
Of course, scenes of tension and conflict do exist within the text, just as they do in
real life. Any author needs to allow his or her characters the freedom to leap up from the
page and share their candid views, including their biases. Characters need to speak with a
measure of historical integrity and shouldn’t be muzzled or their dialogue laundered to fit
the paradigm of a few. After all every writer of a murder-mystery isn’t a axe murderer
and the views of the characters may vary considerably from those of the author.
I will speak to just one issue that Clay raises – that pertaining to the shooting of
George Farnham, a brother worker. I wrote the story about the shooting on the basis of
personal anecdotes by one of Tom Lyness's co-workers, Fergus McElrea. Fergus was 31
years old at the time of the shooting and knew the story’s details and the outcome
firsthand. For me to quote his statements on a witness stand would be labelled as hearsay.
That, of course, doesn't suggest that what Fergus told me was anything less than the facts
– just that it couldn't be admitted as evidence in a court of law. Five years ago after the
first draft of the book was distributed, some person from the mid-west sent me
photocopies of newspaper clippings and offered further details.
A Google search plugging in the words: Pony, Montana, barber, shooting will
bring up more information. The Telling the Truth website offers several of the newspaper
accounts of the day. So, yes, the shooting is historical and not ‘over the top’. It actually
took place and for the reasons, the novel suggests. Miracles do occur, both among our
friends and among Christians at large.
I rather suspect that the seeds of Clay’s dissatisfaction are contained in his second
last sentence in which he mentions the characters’ ‘latent anti-Catholicism’. The prime
text supporting his statement would be as follows:
As we hiked back down the steep trail, my friend asked a very pointed question. One that
eventually changed my life.
"When we looked inside that austere cottage and I saw you lying in the leaves," he said, "I was
reminded that Jesus was born in a stable. And His followers were dirt poor. Just like these itinerants of
the Middle Ages."
I nodded, wondering what he was getting at.
"Well, it made me think about the Holy Father," he continued. "He’s living and working in the
Vatican – a palace with 1,100 rooms. If God’s own Son was born in a manger, would He arrange to have
His Son’s servants living in a palace – like the kings and rulers that Jesus warned against?" He paused
for a minute. "Unless God has drastically changed His way of doing things in the last 1,800 years, those
things just don’t go together, Tony."
I must have stumbled along in a daze for several minutes before I could say a word. "That’s a
very good question," I finally agreed. "There’s no comparison at all. I’m quite sure that God hasn’t
changed, but I don’t have any answer."
For several weeks I tried to explain away the troubling disparity. But the facts were inescapable.
That day in the mountains had been a turning point in my life. In spite of the many admirable attributes
of the Pope, I could never again see Him as a simple follower of Christ – like Peter and the early
apostles. It’s doubtful if Jesus and His disciples had more than a few small coins among all of them. In
contrast, the manner in which the leaders of our churches have chosen to live says a lot about what is
most important to them. For me, the spirit of humility, the hallmark of Christ, is absent. As I mentioned
before, I eventually left the Roman Catholic church.
For many years I considered joining a different denomination. Then one day I read Jesus’s
words: "There will be one flock and one shepherd. My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they
follow Me." Jesus didn’t say to follow the Pope to his fold. Nor the Archbishop of Canterbury to his
fold. Nor any other man to any other fold. "No," Jesus said, "they follow Me."
While Clay may take this as a stinging indictment of organized religion, I think my
characters understand the frailty that each of us faces in living the Christian life. I, for
one, acknowledge the significant flaws in my own life and make no claims beyond the
saving blood of Christ. The farther I go, the more I recognize how little I truly
understand.
Thank you for inviting me to participate in this forum but if I may, I’d rather step
back into oblivion and allow the characters to speak for themselves.
All the best to each one of you. May God stir into the recipe of your life the
ingredients needed to bring you to perfection.....
......Raymond
P.S. I admire Clay’s writing style and the detailed way he has constructed his perception
of The Gate Seldom Found. I’m sure he and I could exchange some good-natured banter
even with our seemingly divergent views. We’d agree on much of what Thomas Merton,
a Catholic monk, wrote in New Seeds of Contemplation.
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