It is the season of school nativity plays Covid-19 permitting and I listen to the strains ofAway In A Manger sung by some angelic voices and some rather discordant reedy voices.
Mary and Joseph stand over a wooden crib, made by some handyman dad, with the baby laying in
straw, purloined from one of the parishs farmers.
As I listen, my mind drifts forward a couple of millennia from this replica of Bethlehem and wonder where the new parents from Nazareth would lay their newborn child today?
It is years since I saw a wooden feed trough of any sort in use. Surely today that crib would be stainless or galvanised steel and the Holy Mother would struggle to get the baby in there due to all the hi-tech stuff used to monitor each beast as it ate its carefully calculated and pre-programmed ration. And what about the shepherds coming visiting. Would that happen today?
What about biosecurity? How would all these folks in the shed not contravene the regulations of one of the many traceability and assurance schemes that cause so much pressure to todays livestock farmers?
I have been very privileged to see some of the amazing innovation that has been implemented in farming over recent years.
This covers things such as milking robots which report gigabytes of data from every quarter of every cow at every milking; or calf pens with artificial intelligence that can detect illness or stress up to three days before the most experienced stockman; while in our arable fields robotic tractors are working alone commercially and video tech ensures only ripe strawberries are picked and only weeds hoed in fields.
It is all amazing the change that has happened in my lifetime. But at what cost? Especially in human terms.
I began in farming in my early teens, working alongside gangs of men who recalled their early days with horses and milking pails.
That the good old days are behind us, is good in many ways. But the camaraderie of those gangs, which was very special, has also become a thing of the past.
The modern tractor cab with a myriad of screens atop a machine that steers itself straighter than champion ploughman is a comfy, but very lonely workplace.
The efficiency achieved from automation is what has kept food affordable for the nation, but I believe there is a human cost.
I applaud our farming media who have taken mental health as a serious issue and the rural church is playing its part, particularly with the national network of agricultural chaplains who are to be found at marts up and down the land.
I am proud of the cooperation between the Agricultural Chaplains Association and the Livestock Auctioneers Association to ensure there is a listening ear to hear in complete confidence the fears, concerns and occasional joys, of farming folk.
Chaplains are drawn from faith organisations, but they are not there to try to convert people into regular attendance. They are trained to listen carefully and hear matters in complete confidence.
They may not have magic wands to solve every problem, but there is much to be said for the old adage of a problem shared, is a problem halved.
Also, they are usually well networked to the relative charities and organisations providing help in times of need.
Regardless of how up-to-date our nativity plays are, the rural church of every denomination continues to thrive.
It is not unusual for the country parson to have 5-10 per cent of his parish in church a far higher proportion than most urban places of worship enjoy.
Enjoy the Christmas season with its carol services, nativity plays and Christingles.
And remember, the news of the birth of a Messiah was not announced from a palace. It was first shared with shepherds tending their flocks ordinary country folk just like readers ofFarmers Guardian.
