It is fine to quote memorable sayings by the famous. Alongside these there are some different people have said to me over the years that have stuck.

When I said of someone that they had really changed for the better my mother commented, “Or you have.”

“Don’t use but when you mean and.”

When I had suggested someone was a ‘social climber’ my mother said, “Do not ascribe to others the motives you would have in that situation.” That stung. It must have hit the mark.

When I had asked whether to reprimand someone my mother advised, “Remember that it is only useful to tell him off to the extent he knows that you love him.”

When I thought I had stopped believing in God a colleague commented casually, “Don’t worry about it. What is far more important is that God believes in you.”

“We are human beings not human doings.” A priest.

“Human sexuality is far too multifaceted a gift of God for the word ‘disordered’ to be used lightly.” Fr Bill Scott.

“I do hope there is sex in heaven. I have had precious little of it in this life and from what I have heard it must be fun.” A priest when dying.

“Always get to know the locals. The locals are the best thing in any country you visit.” Cousin Mary.

“Evil rarely presents itself as evil. It hides behind what is good. This why religion which is good is so often used for evil purposes.” A priest.

“Frequently it’s not a matter of, either-or, but rather, both-and.” A priest.

“Sometimes its not a matter of understanding what is, but rather of accepting that it is.” Cousin Pauline.

And again, a conversation with my mother when, I am told, I was old enough to know better. I knew I was her favourite out of her six children so, one day, just to make certain, I asked her,

“You do love me most of all, don’t you?” “No, I don’t.” “Don’t you tell me you love us all the same! I won’t believe you!” “I don’t love you all the same.” “Then who do you love the most?” “I love the most the one who is away from home until they are home again; the one who is sick until they are well again; the one who is distressed or unhappy until they are happy again. That is the one I love the most.”

The police called the other day. There had been an incident at Kennington Station across the road. It might have been recorded on the CCTV on my house. “Does it work?” The policeman asked referring to the CCTV. When I said it did he was surprised and explained to me that for many who had CCTV it was there as a deterrent, just for show. A case of ‘Beware of the dog’ when there’s no dog. They copied a recording. I don’t know if it helped their enquiry. The last time the police used my CCTV it helped set someone free.

“I am always ready to learn although I do not always like being taught”

Winston Churchill

I have been sent this:

A Senior’s Version of FACEBOOK

For those of my generation who do not, and cannot, comprehend why Facebook exists: I’m trying to make friends outside of Facebook while applying the same principles. Therefore, every day I walk down the street and tell passers-by what I have eaten, how I feel at the moment, what I have done the night before, what I will do later and with whom. I give them pictures of my family, my dog and me gardening, taking things apart in the garage, watering the lawn, standing in front of landmarks, driving around town, having lunch, and doing what anybody and everybody does every day. I also listen to their conversations give them “thumbs up” and tell them I “like” them. And it works just like Facebook. I already have four people following me: two police officers a private investigator and a psychiatrist.

Last Friday saw the First Night of the Proms, those renowned concerts at the Royal Albert Hall and elsewhere that continue every evening throughout the summer. The Hall was packed, the music wonderful. I was there with friends. The company was good.

It was not the music the struck me this time so much as the silence. The music begins from silence. The audience applauds the arrival of orchestra; more applause as the leader arrives and for the conductor. Then silence. Absolute silence. Five thousand people absolutely silent.

Silence during Clara Schumann’s Piano Concerto in A minor in the second movement; the electric quietness of the cello and the piano listened to with such attentiveness. Not a cough nor the faintest rustle of sound from the audience. The young soloist Isata Kanneh-Mason played Gershwin’s ‘The Girl I Love’ arranged by Percy Grainger as an encore. That too had the audience spellbound then cheering.

Our silence and their silence was essential to the music. We all knew it.

Coincidences

During my sermon on Sunday I mentioned that sometime we would have ‘Just as I am’ as the communion hymn and we were to take particular note of the words which illustrated what I was saying. I had not looked ahead in the Order of Service. The communion hymn – ‘Just as I am’.

The evening before the Prom concert some friends came to dinner. One of them, a composer. We talked about Psalm 150 and that musical settings of the psalm were triumphant and loud. We thought it could be approached quietly. Bruckner’s setting of psalm 150 was part of the prom programme. I hadn’t realised. It was wonderful and there was a quiet middle section.