Google ‘Blaencwm Chapel; Tynewydd’ and you will see a photo of my paternal grandfather’s Welsh Baptist Chapel.
I was raised as a Baptist in Tynewydd (Rhondda). In the 1920’s a number of Italian families moved into Glamorgan and set up shops and cafes. One of these families (the Bassini’s) settled in Tynewydd.
When Italy declared war, and joined with Germany, the UK government issued an internment order against those it deemed to be ‘enemy civilians’. This included the Bassini’s. The husband (I knew him as Jack) was taken away, but his wife and children were allowed to remain in their home (they had a café and a fish and chip shop next to each other).
One day, my grandfather was returning from work, only to discover a mob hurling abuse (and stones) at the Bassini’s and their home; at people they had once called friends. My grandfather told the mob to stop, and they did. Many years later the family’s eldest daughter (Maria) was accepted into the Carmelite Order, and my grandfather and grandmother were invited to attend the ceremony. A great honour.
My grandfather was an Elder at Blaencwm Chapel. The Elders employed the Minister.
When I was a teenager, one Minister came to my grandfather’s house. He was treated like royalty. My grandfather called him ‘Sir’. Later, I asked my grandfather why he had called this man ‘Sir’ after all, he was the Minister’s boss!
My grandfather smiled, and said: ‘I’m just an Elder. The Minister speaks the Word!’
When my grandfather died, several hundred men – of all ages – attended his funeral (women did not do so in those days). They filled the cemetery chapel, and many were weeping openly.
My grandfather was able to calm a howling mob – and move the hearts of many – not because of any legal authority (he had none), but because of his character; because of the person he was. He lived his Faith as it was meant to be lived. A Christian would say that he reflected the love of Jesus; and that it was this that made him a shining beacon to others. I would say that he reflected the love of God. He led by example rather than by argument.
Although I can no longer share all of my grandfather’s theology he remains, by far, the finest man I ever met.
By the way, he left school as the age of ten to work in the mines (illegal by that time, but who was to tell). Using the local Miners’ Institute - centers of learning at that time - and being a book-worm, he learned - among other things - both Hebrew and Greek. His second great passion - Faith and Family together being his first - was music. Able to play both violin and piano - and to transpose written music into tonic-solfa for those who could not read music - he was appointed Musical Director of the Glanselsig Amateur Operatic Society. His favourite work was Handel’s Messiah. I can see him now, dressed in his black evening suit, white shirt, black dickie-bow, conducting a full chorus and orchestra, with his white baton; with every word, every note engraved in his heart. I have his baton, but none of his talent!
I love him so much.