When I was growing up on the farm, it was my responsibility to care for the chickens. I used to take the little chickens and put ’em all together in a chicken yard, and I would preach to these chickens. And some of these chickens would bow their heads, some of these chickens would shake their heads. They never quite said “amen,” but when I looked back on it though, the chickens that I preached to in the ’40s and the ’50s tended to listen to me much better than some of my colleagues listen to me today in the Congress.

What does this story tell us about the man John Lewis became?