An Aroma of Roast Pork
I have recently been reading from the work of the little known Saint Maurice, patron saint of the Jerusalem Pork Butchers’ Guild. As we all know, St. Maurice lived about 450 (or gas Mark 7) and is chiefly remembered for his history of the pork pogroms, anti porkist propaganda and persecutions, which culminated in the infamous ‘Krakelnacht’, when no fewer than 6 pork butchers’ shops were put to the torch in Jerusalem Shambles in one night. The gutters ran golden with rendered lard, the air was heavy with the aroma of incinerated pig meat, the pavements a-crunch with pork pie clinker.
Next morning, after surveying the dying embers of his Uncle Hymie’s Noted Brawn and Trotter Luncheonette and Carry Out,, retired to the deserted schul, and after a period of meditation, penned these immortal lines. Scholars will note that I prefer the translation of the Blessed Aaron Gower; I make no apology for eschewing the vernacular of Izzy Dewhurst. I quote-
“Cursed be the detractors, the importuners, and the destroyers, for in the end their mischief will fall only on themselves. Blessed are the makers and bakers, the teachers and preachers, dreamers and flute reamers, for they nourish our lives with their substance, prove it with their leaven, season it with their provisioning of our future.
When the Backbiters and the Besmirchers of goodness have exhausted their evil doings, and their malodorousness has blown away, when truth is brought forth, piping and golden from the ovens for all to taste and acknowledge, then those with a clear conscience will be replete and blessed with the sleep of innocence.
But those who are guilty of lies, duplicity, deceit, subterfuge, character assassination, betrayal- betrayal of friendship, of loyalty, of confidence, of trust, then to these I say you shall not sleep. At best you shall feel rather silly; at worst you shall be despised even of each other. Your bile will foul only your own roasting tins; your venom will poison your own blood, and your street cred will be as withered flowers.
And the just shall bide their time, safe in the knowledge that this day shall surely come, as surely as God made little apple dumplings and all his laws. In the name of the larder, and of the tin, and of the wholly roast, omen”.
It is debatable whether St. Maurice ever embraced the Christian faith, but what is certain is that he was an excellent judge of pig meat, a shrewd judge of humanity, and one all-round smart cookie. May his words still guide and enlighten us all.