After a lifetime of listening to sermons one becomes aware that speakers have a range of techniques calculated to appeal to an audience in different ways. One such technique encourages the audience to anticipate what is going to be said next. Comedians use this technique and so too do those irritating people who unexpectedly ring you just as you are sitting down to your evening meal. It does not matter what you say, but if you let them get into their stride then the gravy will congeal and the rice pudding curdle before you resume your seat.
Following an entertaining sermon about ‘Words and Truth’ from a retired incumbent of Bromsberrow, the congregation was socialising when the conversation turned to the chat-up-line used by telephone salesmen and how we might reply. I mentioned that my mother’s response was always, “I’m sorry but I’m a devout Catholic (she wasn’t) and so cannot speak on such matters,” whereupon, one of the Bromsberrow ladies said that she had found a sure-fire way of closing the conversation quickly. When the caller enquires if she is the owner of the property she replies, “No I am the burglar,” and on hearing this, the caller always rings off.
At first glance this response appears to be an example of a ‘white lie’ employed for a noble purpose, and it probably also makes the caller feel uncomfortable. However, tender souls may regard this as a little harsh on the caller who is, after all, probably on a low basic wage and relies for his bonus on making us listen long enough to part with some cash. If this is the case, the problem then becomes how to get rid of him without hurting his feelings. A solution might be to again to use a white lie but in the context of polishing his ego. The conversation could go something like this; “Hi I’m Nigel and I am calling to tell you that you have won a Cruising holiday for two off Miami. Are you the house owner? “Your reply goes something like, “Yes! And thank goodness you called when you did, I have just spotted a burglar and need to dial 999 so if you’ll excuse me….” In this way the caller can, at least, ring off with the warm glow of having served a useful purpose.
Like the Bromsberrow Vicar, the notion of truth has always intrigued me and as the years roll by I have become aware that it is not easy to establish. I have concluded that this is because truth is an expression of an absolute position and, because most things in life are relative rather than being fixed in time and space, absolute truth can be pretty elusive. In fact, I am now fairly well convinced that I ‘know’ nothing, except that there is an awful lot to find out. I guess this is why churchgoers like me are still listening to sermons: Not because churchgoers know the answers but because they are always refining the questions. This has led me to wonder if this is the reason why my atheist friends, who do not listen to sermons, appear more confident about their answers, than I am of my questions.
I am somewhat reassured however, when I remember that my great grandfather used to say that, “It is better to listen to the man who gets one answer and then asks another question, than to the man who stops asking because he has the answer he wants.”
Talking about questions and answers however, reminds me of the elderly Ledbury resident who told the Vicar that she wanted to be cremated and her ashes scattered in the car park of Tesco. “Why Tesco,” enquired the startled Cleric. To which she replied, “That way, I know my daughters will visit me every week.”
View from the Pew 