As we are gathered together here, this afternoon, we remember Gilbert Zekveld, our beloved father, grandfather, brother, uncle and friend.
Gilbert was born as Gijsbertus Zekveld, on January 13, 1928, on a farm near the town of Aarlanderveen in South Holland, the second of seven children. Most of his childhood encompassed the years of the great depression, while the Second World War raged in and around his country throughout much of his adolescence, ending shortly before he reached military age. His character was forged during these difficult years, as he watched his Godfearing parents act and react with courage to the difficult circumstances around them, and as he learned to be frugal and to work diligently on the family farm.
He was a good student and completed agricultural school with honours, but when the war ended, it soon became clear that there was no future for five sons on a small farm in an economically devastated country. So, when emigration recruiters started coming around, with fabulous stories about the opportunities to be had in Canada, he revealed his adventurous side and in 1947, together with his brother Gerrit, boarded the Tabintha, the ship that would take them to another life in Ontario—with hills and valleys instead of flat lands, where they incorporated another language and assimilated another culture than those which they had expected would be theirs, as they grew up. Even their names were changed. Gijsbertus (or Gijs) became Gilbert and Gerrit became George.
George and Gilbert each brought a cedar trunk, made to order by the town carpenter. It is hard for us, in a time when our children cram their favourite things into two big suitcases to go off to college and still leave most of their belongings behind, to imagine that the one came empty and that the other was less than half-full with all that the two possessed in the world—a few clothes, two pairs of shoes, their Bibles and their books. Books! Even though he was a farmer in the full sense of the word, one cannot remember our Pa without thinking of books—hundreds and, eventually, thousands of them, carefully accumulated, read, prized and preserved during the fifty-five years that he spent in his new country.
Gilbert Zekveld showed himself to be a diligent and faithful worker. He learned the tobacco farming business from the bottom up in the unexpected heat of the Canadian summer and in the fiercely bitter cold of the winter. At a time when smoking was still a respected pastime, his Canadian employer, John Hooyer, soon recognized how competent and honest he was and, after a few years, offered Gilbert the opportunity to become the manager of one of his tobacco farms, in Pontypool, Ontario. Gilbert was very happy with this because, by this time, he had met and conquered the heart of a very special young Dutch woman who had arrived in 1949—Geertje Buma—whose new “Canadian name” was Gertrude. They were married on March 14, 1951. Within a short span, they had five children to raise (Betty, Dennis, Nellie, Simon and George).
Gilbert’s independent spirit would not allow him to be an employee forever. Every possible penny was saved and in 1955, Gilbert and Gertrude moved to a farm that he had purchased (with a bank loan) in Janetville—the place that their children look back to as the family home. It was a dream come true—he was milking cows again and making hay and planting wheat and oats—just like he had in Holland. No, better than he had in Holland, because it was a modern farm, with milking machines, tractors and implements like the people that had stayed behind in the old country were not yet able to have.
It was not an easy life. Unlike in Holland, there were no servants. Sick or well, hot or cold, rain or shine, their sustenance and their very survival depended on persistence, diligence and God’s mercies. There were dry summers, harsh winters, broken machines, cattle diseases, accidents, low milk prices… All year long, money was painstakingly set aside in order to make the annual payment on the farm loan. The garden and the animals provided much of the food but clothing and toys and everything else possible were bought used, in semi-annual trips to what we would now call a “thrift store”. All other necessities were put “on the bill” at “John Burns’ store” in Janetville and paid as soon as the monthly milk cheque came in. Whenever he sought credit with those who knew him, he was never denied, because his “Dutch honesty” became almost legendary throughout the area.
A period of bounty arrived in the early seventies, when it was decided to switch from cows to pigs and plant corn. At this time, their sons were adolescent and able to help with the work. The farm grew from 100 to 200 acres and other land was rented for crop growing. It was possible for Betty, Nellie and George to go through college in the States. Betty married Solano and moved off to Brazil in 1974 and Nellie joined her Chris in the States in 1977. Gilbert and Gertrude were themselves able to enjoy a series of trips to visit family members far away—in Holland, the United States, Brazil and even Africa.
As “the boys” got married, it was decided that “Pa and Ma” would retire. So they moved to another farm and Dennis and Simon took over. After a few years, characterized in our memories by homemade cheese, chicken eggs and peacock feathers, Ma started to become unwell and, eventually, was diagnosed with intestinal cancer and submitted to surgery. After half a year of hospitalisation and surgeries, she was able to return home for a year as a semi-invalid. Pa would subsequently look back on this period as a most precious one and say “I’m so glad that God allowed me to have that last year with Ma.” He found himself considering it a privilege to repay 35 years of selfless dedication by caring for her and taking over many of the tasks that had previously been hers. Every day became a gift from the Lord, and this came through in their letters to their children.
Later on it would become obvious that he was also being divinely prepared to continue alone, fending for himself for fifteen more years. His beloved Gertrude died in July of 1988 and he was left in a house that no longer seemed to be a home. He dutifully persevered, but much of the joy had gone out of living and a sensation of loneliness increasingly pervaded his being. His attempts to fill that void were never thoroughly successful. Meanwhile, he found purpose and meaning in the task of translating—avidly using his knowledge of two languages to transpose the barrier for those who only knew one, so that they could have access to the things which he perceived to be precious and still timely in the writings of Christian theologians and pastors of the past and present. One of the last things he translated was a book that he had brought in that trunk—given to him when he professed his faith in Christ, still in Holland.
Throughout those years, he spent some time in Tacoma, and then moved through Newcastle, Hamilton and St. Catherine’s, interacting with different people and churches, finally coming to Lindsay to be “near the boys”. After several bouts with breathing problems and much consideration and prayer, he had decided to follow doctors’ advice and schedule a heart surgery in the beginning of 2003. But that was not to be, and on December 28, he left us suddenly. Even though his body is still with us here, we are sure that he is now rejoicing in heaven, together with Ma, his parents, his brother George and so many others that have gone to be “with the Lord, which is far better.” There is no more feeling of loneliness, now!
Gilbert Zekveld was a farmer in the full sense of the word. He worked the fields, fed and milked the cows, cleaned out the pig stalls… From dawn till dusk, day in and day out, he dedicated himself to these tasks.
But Gilbert was much more than a farmer. He was also a theologian. Without ever learning Greek or Hebrew or going to a seminary, he knew and sought to defend his Bible and his doctrine in a way that few scholars could match. He was very much at ease discussing theological matters—especially those that related to the Reformed faith that he held so dear. He was knowledgeable about the past, up-to-date on present developments and fearful of what theologians might be saying to future generations if left uncurbed. Pastor Jim Reaves wrote, in a letter of condolence to Gilbert’s children, “How often did I hear him say, ‘I’m just a pig farmer,’ but I always figured that there should be more pig farmers like him. You folks have a splendid heritage.”
And now, as he has departed, we stop to re-evaluate this “splendid heritage.” Besides his role model as a family man—a faithful husband and a dedicated father, his most important legacy to us was his appreciation of, and reverence for, this book (hold it up)—the Bible. He taught us that God reveals His person and His will to us through it and would read it out loud at all three meals.
He made sure we learned the catechism and understood the way of salvation through Christ’s death on the cross on our behalf. He knew all 150 Psalms by heart, in Dutch and in English, and showed us, by his own example, how to resort to them in times of joy and of sorrow.
Convinced of the duty of believers to “assemble together” with God’s people, he took us to church every Sunday and demanded that we apply biblical principles to all situations in life—at home, at school and in the community. He expected us to become men and women of integrity, never shirking the truth or its consequences.
He never failed to tithe. Even in the most difficult times, ten per cent of his income was automatically separated for God’s work. When he perceived the needs of missionaries or specific projects, further cheques would go into the mail.
He was also a man of strong convictions, whether the subject was politics, religion or even farming techniques, and would battle for what he believed God required of himself and of those who professed to believe in Him, no matter what the personal cost. This sometimes created friction exactly with the people with whom he was most naturally connected—his relatives and the Dutch Canadians—and often caused him to seek friendship and fellowship with people that were outside of his original church and community. In the end, this broadened his own outlook in some ways and created opportunities for those who now remember him as a dear friend to get to know him better. He had an impact especially on people who thought and people who taught— including many pastors and seminary students, and even new believers, all of whom found out that there was much to be learned from “picking Gilbert’s brain” or who discovered they could hone their reasoning and their debating skills when they ran their ideas by him. His theologian sons-in-law found themselves to be enriched by their interaction with him and his grandchildren, as they started moving from adolescence to adulthood and taking on their own spiritual identities, were just beginning to realize what a wealth of interesting and useful information was stored in Opa’s mind and in Opa’s library.
Finally, he was a man of prayer. We are going to miss the comfort of knowing that he brought our names before the Lord, each night before he went to bed—children and grandchildren—claiming covenant promises for each one. He also prayed for his brothers and sisters, as well as for church members and everyone else who had been brought to his mind during that day or that week. As he daily confessed his sinfulness and fragility, he stood amazed that, nevertheless, God loved him and would turn all things to good for himself and for his descendants.
If we follow his example in these things, we too will hear the same words that he finally heard—“Well done, thou good and faithful servant: … enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.” (Matthew 25:21)
Brazil—January 01, 2002