in the Kingdom of God
by Kathy Luder
Chickens “Chickens don’t just die,” Grandpa said. He was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee.“When you cut off their heads, their bodies shake.”
H I G H E R
T H I N G S __ 4
I was staying with Grandma and Grandpa for the weekend.The night before, they’d served rabbit for dinner. I tried to be polite, but I couldn’t eat it. Grandma was in the garden. Grandpa and I were alone at breakfast. He continued,“Uncle Jack and I kicked the chicken, back and forth, like a soccer ball, while it spasmed in the dirt. We were laughing at it.” He looked up, his eyes misty.“That’s when Dad showed up. He wasn’t amused.“ He was staring out the window, but his eyes were unfocused. “Because you were wasting food?” I asked. That was Grandma’s complaint against me the night before. “I suppose that was part of it,” he said.“But the bigger part was that we were disrespectful.” “Of chickens?” I asked. “Yeah, of chickens. I never knew Dad was such an ecologist,“ he said with a grunt.“Pesticides and insecticides were just coming in, and he loved them. He never wept or seemed in the least bit bothered by slaughtering animals. He was gruff with us when we fussed.” He paused. He looked into his cup and said quietly, “I think that’s why Jack and I were acting like we did. We hated slaughtering. It was messy, and it was sad. We even felt bad for the mean chickens. But we wanted to be tough, like Dad.” “And that was disrespectful?” I said, incredulous.“You were killing the chickens anyway! Its body was spasming, but it was already dead.You weren’t hurting it.” “No, we weren’t hurting it,” he said.“We knew enough not to do that. Dad said we were making light of the sacrifice, that the chicken was giving its life for ours, and that it came from God. We were disrespectful of the gift.”
