The story begins in 1898 (roughly the same time period that the Truth Fellowship is thought to have begun with William Irvine) with the funeral of Ben Aberlochy, who was Alistair Stanhope's best friend for many years. His death has a profound effect on Alistair, who has been experiencing growing concern about the value and purpose of organized religion at his local church, St. Patrick's. It was becoming his perception that his current church is more interested in "business as usual" and he begins to mull over the possibility of returning to a more simple faith, feeling "drawn instead to the simple story of Jesus". After some period of time and much soul-searching, he concludes that there needs to be a return to the practices of the early Christians who, among other things, met in homes instead of in church buildings. "The New Testament church, he realized, as scales of tradition fell from his eyes, had never been about a building, an organization, or an enterprise which, of late, he believed, Saint Patrick's was fast becoming." After much deliberation, he begins holding meetings at his house and slowly a little fellowship of believers grows into a closely-knit community of faith, a "fellowship of love" as Reid describes in his author's note.
At first the believers suffer predictable resistance from their fellow St. Patrick's churchgoers (and even initially by Alistair's wife, Priscilla, who continues to attend St. Patrick's for a while), but they remain convinced that what they're doing is guided by the Holy Spirit. Finally coming to the "realization that Jesus was indeed that stairway, their access to the kingdom of heaven", the group grows together as they share their collective thoughts and feelings from reading of Scripture and they "worship God in spirit and in truth". Eventually they decide to send out "workers" in pairs, with George and Jack being the first. Together they travel from town to town preaching a simple gospel and holding gospel meetings, establishing churches throughout the area. More people begin to feel the call to ministry, including Laura and Katie, and Timothy and Eddie, and the fellowship continues to expand. They encounter both joys and tribulations during their attempts to preach the simple story of Jesus; for example, especially poignant was George's agonizing decision to not marry Laura in order to become a worker. And so, what began with Alistair Stanhope holding small meetings in his home in 1898 developed into humble home churches growing in faith and numbers over the next three decades.
While reading The Gate Seldom Found I had to ask myself if I thought it was basically a 616 page cliché only because I was already familiar with the beliefs and behaviors of the Friends and Workers (F&W), but I don't think so, nor am I a "bitter ex" (see my testimony). The seemingly endless repetition of standard F&W doctrines that pervade the story line are simply overdone and over the top. Even the novel's opening line - "It was no day for a funeral" - is too derivative, reminiscent of the infamous "It was a dark and stormy night" parody by Charles Schultz through his Peanuts cartoon character Snoopy (in other words, like there's ever a "good" day for a funeral).
Through its relentless emotional pathos, The Gate Seldom Found celebrates the notion of returning to a simplicity of faith with a curious concoction of sympathetic and likable characters grafted into Reid's primary agenda. Specifically, he does an admirable job developing his characters and setting, but it becomes quickly apparent that they are merely a literary afterthought inserted here and there to embellish what is essentially the Friends & Workers' (F&W) doctrinal platform. Indeed, the overall pace and tone of the story can be compelling at times, but often the conversations seem a little too contrived and outcomes too predictable; some of the most revealing aspects of the book are the anticlerical and anti-intellectual themes repeated over and over as if to bludgeon the reader into mental submission. In fact, this is one reason why the story is found lacking real substance - the tortured logic contained within it only serves to tarnish a message which already has flaws (and will be examined in various ways elsewhere at PTO). A characteristic example of his trite vision can be seen when Jack Gillan tells the "seasoned minister" Reverend Chumbley why he was quitting his job at the church; the good pastor's reaction is quite predictable and the entire exchange essentially summarizes the foundations of his belief system:
"Jack, my fine fellow, I wondered if you'd be along this morning since you weren't able for church yesterday. I had to get Dugan MacGladry to fill in for you and pass the collection plate. No need for explanations," he went on with a sweep of his hand, "Most of the Breadalbane clan were ill too." He slapped Jack on the back, dismissing his attempt to speak.
Jack swallowed hard. "Actually, Reverend, I'll be missing Sunday service more often," he said. "That is, I won't be coming anymore."
The Reverend's gray eyebrows arched up into his forehead as if pulled by invisible strings. "What's that you say?"
Jack gazed out into the garden at the new buds on the rose bushes, collecting his thoughts and his courage. He turned back and looked Reverend Chumbley directly in the eye. "I feel that God is calling me to worship like the Christians did in the New Testament."
"Well, what do you think we're doing in this church? I read a passage from the Gospels every Sunday, according to the lectionary."
"The Christian life I see in the New Testament is simpler than that," Jack insisted. "It's like stepping through a gate and finding oneself walking along an entirely new path, one of quiet faith in God. I want to taste it, touch it, live it. Indeed, to radiate the very love of Jesus."
"Don't talk foolishly, boy," Reverend Chumbly scoffed. "I've sat under the finest theologians and I know what the Christian life demands - ethical living."
"Yes, and you can quote the church fathers eloquently, sir; but each one of us needs to hear Jesus' voice for ourselves and to follow Him with our heart. I'm afraid that hasn't been my experience in recent years. And I need to change that."
The Reverend leaned forward and tapped Jack on the centre of his chest with his index finger. "Listen to me. You're an employee of this church. You need to learn a little respect. Leave me to interpret the Scripture. Your job is to mow the grass and hand out the literature."
Jack blanched. "That's why I'm here." For a moment he hesitated, and then in the tone of a schoolboy reciting a text, he continued, "I can no longer be a church employee, and I've gome to give you my resignation."
Reverend Chumbley stared, speechless for the first time. After recovering, he tried hard to make Jack's decision seem ridiculous. Still, Jack was certain that his new direction was guided by God, and that certainty filled him with confidence. (78-9)
Although it's not clear to me what could be much simpler than reading "a passage" of the Gospel in church, the underlined phrases provide a basic outline of the ideology of their Fellowship, and this encounter demonstrates precisely how The Gate Seldom Found is basically an exercise in self-congratulation. The story is fundamentally flawed because at no juncture does Raymond Reid appear to seriously consider that "worldly" churches just might possibly contain the very thing Alistair and his friends were looking for. Instead, everything worldly is portrayed as ignorant, unpleasant, and "lacking a true Spirit", whereas the heroes of the book are always virtuous, faithful, and "spirit-filled".
Is it necessary to resort to overuse of stereotype? After all, there is often some kernel of truth within a stereotype. What bothers me the most is not so much the actual content, because I'm already familiar with what The Friends believe and practice (and generally don't have as many major problems with it compared to, for example, Jehovah's Witnesses - see Are 2x2's Saved?). While it is entirely possible that Reid actually believes the hackneyed scenarios he created, one wonders if he did it because it was the best way he knew how to interact with the "worldly" things. After all, isn't it easier to leave a "worldly" church when the pastors are so out of touch with the needs of their flock, interested only in superficial things, and downright unlikable? For that matter, why would the brave Friends want to fellowship with people who shun them and even refuse to do business with them, as Reverend Smithers directed other Saint Patricks members to do from the pulpit, of all places? So, instead of honestly dealing with an issue (be it worldly churches, ordained clergy, home meetings, etc) Reid creates images that are more worthy of ridicule than genuine consideration, and he then proceeds to batter those images. If this is true, such distancing oneself from reality only results in making the story seem simultaneously patronizing and overly defensive. Here is another example of how example of how truly incredible the plot becomes:
"George's mind scrambled for a way to defuse Red's anger. But even in the instant the thought registered, he caught the fire in the seething eyes and Red's forward lunge, his right fist balled into an iron knot. A moment later Red's hardened knuckles slammed into George's nose with the sickening crunch of cartilage and bone. Raising an arm to ward off the second punishing blow, George stumbled backward, his mind suddenly black and disoriented. Blood spouted from his nostrils and bile rushed into his throat.
"Are you still planning to baptize my wife?" Red mocked.
Choking, George opened his mouth, trying to speak.
"Shut up!" Red Cafferty screamed as he jerked a loaded revolver from his pocket. He fired swiftly, spattering blood on the gold ceiling medallion as George's head pitched backward and his body slumped to the floor. (579)
George, the Worker, had agreed to meet with the drunken Red Cafferty, who was angry because his wife had decided to go to the gospel meetings. Cafferty, who apparently beat his wife routinely, had a "white-hot temper" with a "bony face crimped into a scowl". He cuts off George when he tries to speak and calls George a "fool", with his "lips curling in disgust" while pouring out "vile invective" and pacing the room "like a wild beast eyeing the vulnerability of its prey." Eventually Red attacks George without provocation and, as if that's not enough, shoots him in the head!
What was it that so infuriated Red Cafferty? It was the dreadful possibility that his wife was going to be baptized. Who could have guessed that this alcoholic wife-beater held such firm theological convictions on baptismal regeneration? I mean to say, it wasn't enough for Red to physically assault George and beat him senseless, Mr. Reid had to render him as so loathsome a character as to have him shoot George in the head.
Not surprisingly, George lives through the horrible ordeal. Even though "the bullet had penetrated his forehead before exiting through the back of his skull", the faithful little group of Friends prayed for him. He miraculously survives a direct gunshot wound to the forehead at close range and despite the limitations of early 20th century medical technology. In fact, his only long term effects of the incident were "occasional memory lapses" and a crooked nose. And, being the true believer that George is, he "often prayed for Red" and even "traveled a considerable distance" to visit him in jail, but Red's passions were still so inflamed by the threat of baptism that he refused to leave his cell for the meeting. Now, while this could be viewed as simply an example of how to forgive, the sheer silliness of the episode and surrounding context of the entire book leads the reader to wonder if Reid thinks anyone not part of George's fellowship is capable of such Christian charity. (By the way, I know for a fact they are; for example, not only did Pope John Paul II meet and pray with the Turkish terrorist, Mehmet Ali Agca, who tried to assassinate him in 1981, he also requested clemency from the Italian government which was later granted.)
The book is full of this kind of writing which has at its core a condescending exclusivism, and this is what I disliked the most. Through the parade of assorted caricatures of "organized religion", Reid's true world view is exposed - a casual dismissal of most, if not everything, that is not part of the Friends & Workers as inferior and not "Spirit-filled". I do not say this merely because the book is a thinly disguised anticlerical manifesto, because quality anticlerical literature does exist; for example, read Canterbury Tales and compare Chaucer's Friar and the Summoner with Reid's pastors Chumbley and Smithers. Or, read The Accident Ecumenist for clever satire. What you have in The Gate Seldom Found, on the other hand, is little more than the cliché seldom avoided.
Other issues addressed in Gate include the notions that mainstream churches are unfulfilling and only obsessed with money, the anachronism of a "New Testament church", latent anti-Catholicism, confusing "faith" with "fellowship", over-reliance on subjective feelings, ethnic stereotyping, and more. All of these issues will be examined in more detail in other articles here at PTO.