Thought for the Day

As delivered to Geoff Twentyman on The Breakfast Show at BBC Radio Bristol just now. A waxwork is being unveiled in Bath that purports to show what Jane Austen looked like. A challenge has been issued to write the letter that the unknown soldier (statue at Paddington Station) is reading:

Interesting pair of stories this morning. The waxwork imagery of Jane Austin puts a face to someone whose words we know well.

Whereas the challenge to discuss the content of the unknown soldier's letter is to suggest words for an individual whose appearance we know well.

It is clear that looks mean a lot to some people. We do judge by appearance. It is why politicians spend so much time with image consultants (beat) and I prefer radio.

But for our classic and historical authors? I read Bill Bryson's little biography of William Shakespeare recently. He points out that there are only three reliable images of that playwright from his day, and it is likely that two of them copied the third one.

We know very little about the appearance of our biblical heroines and heroes. Michelangelo's statue of David is more about romantic masculinity than a true likeness, although the Bible tells us he was good-looking. We know next to nothing about Jesus of Nazarath's physical appearance apart from generalisations.

Some people in Athens had erected an altar to an unknown God. St Paul, stopping off there to debate in the market place, used the opportunity to speak of Jesus. God may well be unknown, distant, he suggested, but Jesus has made him known.

It was Jane Austen herself who said 'Life is but a quick succession of busy nothings.'

But the unknown soldier - Everyman - stands for sacrifice, courage and generosity of heart and spirit. We almost don't need to put words on his lips. A life all over far too quickly. Busy, but not nothing.

How do you want to be remembered? For how you looked? Or for what you did?

(Grateful thanks to Commissioning Editor Tim Pemberton for improving the punchline.)

Thought for the Day

As delivered just now in that don't-mention-the-war way that the BBC has - terrified about misusing its influence? - here is my non-political thought for polling day:

At the time of elections I have twinned questions swimming around my head.

Which candidate will make life best for me? Or who will make life best for most people?

Which candidate will preserve my rights? Or who will fight for the rights of others?

Which candidate will make my road safer? Or who will make the world safer?

Tough call. Takes a bit of thought. But if we think they're all the same ... perhaps we haven't listened to the speeches. Or maybe haven't read the manifestos. Sometimes I'm lazy and don't think afresh. My mind made up. Everything pre-judged.

Jesus told of a man who fell amongst thieves. The parable of the Good Samaritan. Two holy people who you would have expected to help passed by on the other side of the road. Didn't want to get involved. A Samaritan was an enemy. From the other side of the hills and national background. Jesus says a Samaritan, of all people, stopped to help.

Yesterday Steve, you told us about someone who stopped to help you. Don't imagine you asked him questions about his political views before accepting aid.

Insert the name of the group you have fewest expectations of into the gap to work out how it felt to hear Jesus' story. The parable of the good (beat) City supporter? The parable of the good (beat) Frenchman? The parable of the good (beat) traffic warden? Just examples.

But do you get the impact? If the person you expect to be bad turns out to be good. They change your world then, (beat) and your world-view for ever.

One imaginary guy, two millennia ago, changed his mind about Samaritans. Now. Have you low expectations of anyone? Should you think again?

Appearances, Judgement and Book Preview

A woman stood in front of me at the check-out queue yesterday. She was maybe mid to late thirties. She had a boy of about eight or nine with her. She was not engaging with him particularly. He appeared bored.

She had placed her shopping on the conveyor but not the marker (what is that thing called?) to separate her shopping from the next customer's (mine). She stood in the wrong place so I couldn't easily start unloading my shopping.

'That is a selfish woman' I said to myself. She had given me three examples of it already. I found myself praying for her.

She had brought no bags with her (4). I followed her out (coincidentally, I'm not a stalker) and she was driving a huge gas-guzzler (5).

We pulled out of our spaces at the same time. She drove too fast across the car park (6).

My prejudices affirmed totally.

I recalled I had written this earlier in the week under the heading 'murder.'

... to observe the aggressive, angry, frustrated people we encounter day by day there must be something tragically wrong. Why do we become so intolerant when we get behind the wheel of a car or the guidance system of a supermarket trolley? Do people genuinely think that 'me first' is a more reliable route to a happy life than 'after you?' You would think that 'You shall not murder' had become the only rule with all steps stopping short of it being acceptable.

People tell me I am a patient person. I have many faults but I do manage to stay calm and not rush things by and large. The opposite of patience is not impatience but anger.

At a large supermarket in Arnold in Nottingham the car park, in the 1980s was roof-top. It was above the store. One had no idea how full the car park was without driving up the ramp to find out. The biggest frustration of my life was when, doing the weekly shop, I drove up the ramp in a procession of cars only to discover that it had become full and the queue of traffic to get in now reached back to the ramp. The ramp was too narrow to allow a u-turn so if there was a car behind there was no alternative. You were there for the duration. You had to wait for a space to appear. This could take a long time. I resolved one day when I was particularly stewed about something that I would simply observe, listen and enjoy my car radio, or the space to think. I can't begin to explain how many ideas for sermons I had from that day on in the queue. Problems got solved. Projects were hatched. My blood pressure went down.

There have been several changes in my life since then one of which is to shop daily rather than weekly and to do it on foot if at all possible. That way I maximise the number of people I bump into. It is better pastorally. But it is wonderful to enjoy thinking time provided by a late visitor, a traffic jam or a delayed train. You can't do anything about it so why not settle down into it. Certainly don't harbour resentment against someone who jumps the queue. Let them in with a cheerful wave, pray for them and give thanks for your more enlightened approach to life.

I don't always take my own advice. But I try to.

Hair

Is it me? Don't answer that. I have complicated hair which grows in weird directions unless spoken to sternly by a professional. That way it looks OK for three weeks out of five. I can't be bothered to go every three weeks. The few years I spent with a number one were not flattering although they were cheap. Too many moles see.

Moving down here I noticed that most of the men in Nailsea had the same hair style and suspected a conspiracy, or a salon called Stepfordlocks.

So I wandered into Bristol where a nice lass at Toni and Guy made a right pig's ear of me barnet. Someone I met in Bath had a decent hair cut and I enquired and ended up at Essentials (a Toni and Guy offshoot and it's probably spelt essenshulls or something). Got a nice stylist who did well then left. Stayed with the same shop and found a second stylist who did equally well but then went on a world tour.

Ended up back at Toni and Guy in Bristol on the recommendation of a friend. Billy (real name Katey but there was already a Katey when she started so she had to take a pseudonym) was the real deal and managed three or four consecutive hair cuts. Mrs T went to her as well and was equally pleased.

Billy has now left and, as is the case with such businesses, they won't tell us where she has gone and we don't know her surname or private address. Mrs T has positively forbidden me to use the same person as her ever again so I've decided to walk into random salons and see if that way works out any better. Clevedon, Friday, Studio 2, Robert should probably be eliminated from your enquiries and I'll expect the 'Who did your hair, the Council?' jokes on Sunday.