Humane: More, or Less Human?

I wonder. Did I lose any fishing enthusiast friends over my previous post, “If Worms Could Scream and Fish Could Cry,” [ here  ] describing Tom’s fishing interest and his threading a worm onto the hook then snagging and reeling in a hapless bass? Hopefully not. 




Confession time: Yours Truly hasn’t fished for years, but was seen last year baiting the hook for his grandkids. This year Austin, ten, baits his own hook, but Abigail, at seven, is not yet ready to do that; so I’m likely to get the honours again before summer’s out. 

In any case, it’s good to be aware of the implications and effects of our actions on other people and, to a lesser extent, on other creatures. Here’s a thought: In treating creatures humanely, I am more fully human than if I were to treat them inhumanely.  













That said, I enjoyed my fish supper last night, and I’m sure I will thoroughly enjoy my next chicken dinner. However, I know that such creatures pay a high price in my. You’ve maybe heard some version or other of the old gag about a chicken and a pig who talked at said, I enjoyed my fish supper last night, and I’m sure I will thoroughly enjoy my next chicken dinner. 

However, I know that such creatures pay a high price in my. You’ve maybe heard some version or other of the old gag about a chicken and a pig who talked about going into the restaurant business. The chicken suggested their spebout going into the restaurant business. The chicken suggested their specialty should be eggs and bacon, and said, “I’ll invest my eggs into the enterprise and you can invest your bacon.” “What? No way!” said the pig. “Your eggs would be a donation; my bacon would be a sacrifice!”

Moving right along, we accept that in the wild, nature’s ongoing food-chain fight for survival happens all the time without it giving a thought for the suffering inflicted. But it’s different for us – or should be. Our being the godlike creatures that humans are, with characteristics reflecting – however imperfectly – aspects of the Divine, such as reason and logic, and choice and conscious values and spirituality, brings with it scruples of conscience and moral judgment.  

News reports from home and abroad tell of murder and mayhem, wanton killing and destruction; of governments oppressing and repressing their people, killing and maiming and casting bodies into mass graves. We witness indescribable acts of violence even closer to home, besides the systemic exploitation of common people and workers by corporate enterprise, criminal elements and organizations. On and on it goes, down the line till it comes to . . . to me. How do I treat others? 

Would you agree that in every inhumane act humans commit they become that much less human, and less godlike? In making themselves “God,” deciding who should live and who should die, they become actually less like God – ungodly.

Conversely, call to mind occasions when you have acted very humanely, whether towards animals or people – especially in unselfish kindness and caring towards people. Did you feel more fully alive? Put it this way: did you have a sense of living more fully; you were that much more completely human? In that sense you were more like Creator God, our Heavenly Father, and more like Jesus Christ His Son, who revealed what God the Father is like. 

More pointedly, He revealed God:  “I and the Father are one”); “. . . Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. . .” (John 10:30; 14:9 NIV). 
And now, from threading unwilling worms onto barbed hooks to catch unsuspecting fish, and from the high cost to creatures to help meet our nutritional needs and satisfy the palate, and from considerations of humans and humaneness – or lack of it – to godlikeness, I’m led to considerations of redemption.

Hmm, that was where we concluded last time.

Redemption costs! 

“In [Christ] we have redemption through his blood [shed in his sufferings and death by crucifixion], the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace . . .” (Ephesians 1:7).

I have been redeemed.

And I’m grateful.

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Peter A. Black is a freelance writer in Southwestern Ontario, and author of a children's / family book, "Parables from the Pond." An earlier version of this article was published in his weekly column in the July 26, 2012 issue of The Watford Guide-Advocate, and has been modified here.His articles have appeared in 50 Plus Contact and testimony.