Clarence Forehand was a farmer. I suppose one could say he was my first co-worker, even though the farm we worked on was his. It wasn’t long before we developed a friendship in what seems now as the short time I spent working on the farm that he built with his son’s Gerald, my uncle, and Dale.
The Amish have a belief that the closer a man is to the soil, the closer he is to God. Since the fall of Adam from Eden, man has been relegated to provide his own sustenance. Certainly, ol’ Clarence, being associated with farming his entire life, fit the bill. If one had spent a few days with the man they would surely come to the same conclusions as I. Clarence was doing God’s work.
Clarence was an old man 20 years ago, at least that’s how I saw it. He would, no doubt, agree with me on that point. I’ve never known the full truth of whether it was my father’s idea or whether it was my Uncle Gerald's idea to hire me to go and help feed calves on the farm. Twice a day I would bike what must have been 5 miles to the farm to feed the calves that were weaned and born by the very dairy cows that Clarence milked twice daily. I accepted the job eagerly on the account that I could use the ATV to gather up the milking cows for Clarence in the evening and when the moment struck I could sneak in driving a tractor or some other piece of large machinery that I had no business driving.
Naturally, I passed by Clarence many times while performing my duties on the farm. It seemed like he had a joke every day he wanted to tell me. As a boy, I didn't have the heart to tell him that I didn't understand a majority of them. I would just smile and laugh and make small talk in an attempt to learn what I could from him. He was a very mild tempered man; he didn't drink, smoke, or swear. I only saw him raise his voice once when one of the sows in the milk house was kicking the door while feeding. He never gossiped, told lies, never had an absolute opinion that he let be known. He never talked politics, had any agendas, or ever had an overwhelming sense to save any souls. He was generous, he spoke fondly of others, and he never seemed to have any great desires for material wealth. Clarence had carved out a relatively comfortable living and I never heard him talk of wishing for more. He had a kind of a go-with-the-flow personality. He was, as they say, unquestionably, salt of the Earth.
When the day came for the funeral of my old friend, I sat in the halls of the church thinking about how pieces of what made Clarence Forehand so great had somehow transferred into pieces of me. The Buddhist describe death not as a continuation of the soul in an afterlife but as if one flame of the candle touching the wick of another candle. In this way, the flame from the first candle does not die, but merely gets passed on. There is just too much agnostic blood in me to believe in one form of life or another but surely the Buddhist were on to something. Nonetheless, one cannot help but feel at a funeral that the time spent with our loved ones was taken for granted. I can’t help but wish I would have had a more suitable goodbye in the flesh. Regardless of any regrets or wishes, I had paid my respect to the man who always seemed to have a contagious smile on his face and was one of the kindest persons I ever had the pleasure of meeting.
The funeral was as funerals go. The events are carefully scripted, only the dead and their family change periodically. I listened intensively to the pastors assigned to speak at Clarence’s funeral expecting to hear of the fine things he had done in his life. And, just as I predicted, those kind words were extended in the memory of dear ol’ Clarence. However, much to my shock, one of the pastors had taken the opportunity to break up the usual monotony of the script to share a few personal stories about Clarence. Yes, Clarence had certainly made an impression upon this man of God. He had rented a parcel of land at an unusually small price and had even received a calf from Clarence, which to Clarence probably seemed like the neighborly thing to do. He had remarked about Clarence’s driving and his propensity to never let people pass him on those country roads near the farmstead. It’s true, there was something you just couldn’t quite lay a finger on with Clarence –somewhere between a quiet fire and a tame hellraiser.
Along with the personal stories of Clarence, the pastor took the opportunity to do what institutionalized men of God do; that is, to take every opportunity to spread his doctrine of soul saving agenda. It’s something that Clarence didn’t have the stomach for. My greatest surprise was to hear the pastor mention that despite all the good things Clarence had done in this world –even the wonderful things he had done for the pastor himself – would not put him in the mansions that Christ had went before to prepare. The Bible, you see, is filled with all sorts of passages telling us that “good works”, as they are referred to, will not punch a ticket to heaven. The sixth verse in the Gospel of John was quickly cannibalized to support his claim. There are conditions that need to be met and it seemed Clarence had fell short in some vital areas to be a taken in as an “official” Christian –whatever that means. The pastor even remarked at all the opportunities that poor Clarence missed in order to fulfill these conditions and had simply refused to do so. I’m sure to most in the audience this seemed a pretty fearful prospect. It was put in such a way that it left some doubt as the direction of Clarence’s soul. To the official Christians in the audience this must have been standard fare. Other’s probably missed the point of the pastor altogether and had become hypnotized to the scheme that funerals seem to have. However, I took notice and it made me smile and proud, as strange as that sounds.
It seemed that the pastor didn’t know Clarence after all. It seemed I didn’t know Clarence at all either! To me, Clarence had taken Christ’s Sermon on the Mount and lived it to the letter. I had always assumed he was the God fearing church going regular that the pastor had always wanted him to be. It’s ironic that in my mind he should have been everything the pastor was looking for. It was official for Clarence here on Earth, his judgment done. I was thinking how great it would be to know what Clarence would have said after the pastor’s speech about him. He probably would have laughed to himself and smiled, as I did. After all, he was one flame of the candle passing to a wick of another. In my eyes, the world needs more Clarence Forehands –Free of conditions and agendas while exhibiting the best characteristics of what it means to be human. No, Clarence Forehand was more than just a farmer, and if there is a God he would have seen that all the conditions had been met.
