Ten Tales Tall and True (8 page)

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not Love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not Love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not Love, it profiteth me nothing.' – Paul wrote this in his first letter to the Christians of …

“Excuse me but I want to ask you one question, just one question. Are You a lesbian?”

“I am not a lesbian.”

“That answer, if you will pardon me for saying so, is not satisfactory. For the last two Sunday mornings I have watched you stroll in here at five-thirty, wearing jeans. You order a pint of lager, bring it to this corner and sit reading a book and shrugging off every man who tries to start a conversation with you. Why act that way if you arenae a lesbian?”

“That is your second question. You said you would ask just one.”

“Aye, all right. I take your point. Fair enough.”
Paul wrote this in his first letter to the Christians of Corinth, less than twenty years after Christ was crucified. And now, a question
.

What do we need most in life? What, if we suddenly lost it, would make us both feel, and be, worthless? Some Christians will answer: their religion. They think their lives are given meaning by their faith in God who made and sustains the universe and became Jesus of Nazareth. Well, they are wrong. Faith in God can make us very strong – for centuries it has enabled Christians to suffer and inflict, prolong and endure hideous agonies for the most splendid reasons. But it is not what God wants. Paul tells us why: ‘Though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not Love, I am nothing.' ‘Though I give my body to be burned, and have not Love, it profiteth me nothing.'

In many (not all) Bibles you will read ‘charity' where I have written ‘Love'. Paul used Greek word meaning ‘loving respect' – the deepest affection possible between people. Charity used to mean that in English, but has come to mean ‘goodness to people who are badly off.' This sort of goodness can be a wonderful expression of Love, but is not Love itself. People have founded hospitals
…

“Excuse me, I know I'm butting in again but I have something to say which will do you good if you will only listen to me and not lose your temper. There is only one reason why a man or a woman comes to a pub and it is not the booze. You could easily be drinking cans of lager in the privacy of your ain hame and it would be cheaper, for Christ's sake. So like everybody who comes to a pub you are here for the company, so why shut me out by sticking your nose in a book? I mean no offence, but you are a very attractive woman, in spite of wearing jeans and no being very young. I cannae be too plebeian nor too old for ye neither. You would have gone to a pub higher up Byres Road if you wanted posher or younger company.”

“I will tell why I come here if you promise to leave me in peace afterward.”

“Fair enough. Fire away.”

“I have two daughters and a son in their late teens, and a homeloving husband who works in the finance department of the district council. They leave all housework to me but I enjoy keeping the
house clean and tidy so can honestly say I do not feel exploited. I do voluntary work for Save the Children, and Amnesty International. I have no money worries, family worries, health worries and used to think I was one of the luckiest people alive. Nothing seems to have changed but my life is now almost unbearable. No doubt a doctor would blame the menopause and prescribe Valium. I think I've suddenly started seeing myself clearly after eighteen years of looking after other people.

“You see my father was a Church of Scotland minister and I loved him a lot – he was kind and distant and mysterious. Like most Protestant clergymen he was probably embarrassed by drawing wages to go about looking better than other people. The best clergymen get over their embarrassment by working hard – running soup kitchens, getting decent clothes for families who can't afford them, visiting the lonely. My father's church was in a posh suburb. Everybody in the congregation seemed prosperous so we never noticed the poor. He spent most of the time between meals in his study, writing sermons for Sunday. They were no better than other ministers' sermons but his elocution and manners were perfect, old ladies loved him, everybody admired what they called his
unworldliness
. I only noticed he was a fraud when I got to university.

“I enjoyed university because I believed I was
becoming better – better than him. I took Divinity and was preparing for the ministry …

“Wait a minute! You were studying to be a Church of Scotland minister?”

“Yes.”

“Since when has the Church of Scotland allowed women ministers?”

“Since the sixties. A woman applied for ordination and there was no law against it.”

“Though not a churchgoer or a strict Christian I have strong Protestant sympathies, and women ministers just don't seem right.”

“Then leave me alone.”

“No no! I'm sorry! I mean go on and tell me what is wrong with your marriage. My own marriage is not what it should be. I will regard it as a great favour if you ignore my interruption and spill the beans.”

“All right. At university I joined a lot of societies – The Students' Christian Union, The Iona Community and Christians Against the Bomb. I had lots of friends who knew the world should and could be improved, and worked at it. But I began to feel something essential was missing from our lives – God. When I prayed I never felt closer to anyone. When I asked my religious friends how it felt to have God beside them they got embarrassed and changed the subject. Why are you grinning?”

“I know a bloke who feels God is with him all the time. The two of them go along Dumbarton Road together having frantic arguments, though we only
hear what poor Jimmy says. ‘I refuse to do it!' he shouts. ‘You have no right to order me to do it! You'll get me the jail!' It seems God keeps telling him to smash the windows of Catholic bookshops.”

“Yes, anybody who hears the voice of God nowadays is deluded. God said everything we need to know through the words of Jesus. But many sane people have felt God's presence since Jesus died. I used to read their autobiographies, they made me envious – and angry too. Some were saintly junkies, hooked on the Holy Ghost like cocaine addicts to their dealer, passing miserable weeks waiting for the next visitation. I was not so greedy. One wee visit would have satisfied me – I could have lived on the memory ever after. But if I became a minister of God without once feeling God loved and wanted me I knew I would end up a fraud like my father. The nearest I could get to God was in books, which were not enough. I lost interest in Christianity, fell in love with a healthy agnostic and married instead. It was easy.”

“Do you know what I'm going to tell you?”

“Yes – that it was the best thing which could have happened to me. If you shut your mouth and listen as you promised I'll explain why it was not.

“I've always found it easy to give the people nearest me what they want. As a student I worked perfectly with busy, excitable, eccentric Christian Socialists. After marriage I perfectly suited
someone who wanted a wife to give him polite well-dressed children and a home where he could entertain his friends and colleagues and their wives. So marriage completely changed my character and maybe destroyed part of it. Nowadays I want to hear people talk about the soul, and God, and how to build bridges between them. I can meet these people in books – nowhere else – but my friends and children and husband give me no peace to read. They can't stop telling me news and discussing problems which strike me as increasingly trivial. I can't help listening and smiling and answering with an automatic sympathy I no longer feel. They cannot believe my reading matters. If I locked myself for an hour in the bedroom with a book and a can of lager they would keep knocking on the door and asking what was wrong. Now you know why I come here to read.”

Some have founded hospitals for the poor because they wanted popularity or fame or felt guilty about their wealth. That is why Paul says ‘Though I bestow all my goods to feed
…'

“Wait a minute. Have you tried going to church?”

“Often. It was what I usually did on Sundays but the prayers now sound meaningless to me, the hymns like bad community singing, the sermons as dull as my father's. Two weeks ago, without telling my family, I came here instead. Nobody I know will ever come to this pub, and it doesn't
play loud music. And I like the company, you were right about that.”

“Eh?”

“Yes. I feel less lonely among people who are quietly talking and drinking – as long as they don't talk to me or lay their hand on my thigh.”

“It won't happen again.”

“Enjoying a pint and a read here is my Sunday service. Can I go on with it?”

“Aye. Sure. Of course. I meant no offence.”

That is why Paul says ‘Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and have not Love, it profiteth me nothing.' Peter says the same: ‘Above all things have fervent love among yourselves.' John goes further: ‘God is love.' And Jesus gave us a commandment which makes all laws needless for those who obey it: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul, and your neighbour as yourself.' Remembering this, let us return to Paul
.

Love suffereth long, and is kind; Love envieth not, and isnotpuffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked
…

“Excuse me for butting in again but I've been giving some thought to your problem.”

is not easily provoked
…

“I think I see where the solution lies.”

is not easily provoked
…

“I know as well as you do that sex is not the reason for everything but…”

“YAAAAEEEE HELP BARMAN HELP!!!!”

“For Christ's sake …”

“Right, what's happening here?”

“Barman, this man nipped me.”

“She's a liar, I never touched her!”

“Yes you touched me. I asked you again and again not to, but for twenty minutes you've sat here nip nip nipping my head like, like a bloody husband. Please get him off me, barman.”

“Right you – outside. This is not the first time I've seen you at this game. Out you go.”

“Don't worry, I'm leaving. But let me tell you something: that woman is a nut case – a religious nut case.”

“Shut your mouth and clear out.”

is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never faileth; but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away
.

“The old man who was pestering you has gone, Missus. You won't even see him in the street outside – he's slipped into the pub next door.”

“Thank you. I'm sorry I troubled you but he insisted on pestering me.”

“I understand that Missus, and I'm very sorry that now I must ask you to leave also.”

“Why?
Why
?”

“Solitary women are liable to stir up trouble as you have just noticed. This is not your sort of pub. Try one nearer the top of the road.”

“Will you allow me to finish my drink?”

“Certainly. Of course. Don't rush it, take your time. It's the last you'll be served here.”

For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, Love, these three; but the greatest of these is Love
.

“I'm sorry Missus but you have to leave now, at once, whether you've finished your pint or not. We cannot have a woman weeping in the corner of the bar. It spoils people's pleasure.”

I met Jesus Christ only once, in Cana, at some sort of marriage feast. I say “feast” because that word was distinctly printed on the invitation card, though it aroused expectations which were not fulfilled, for the parents of the bride had either pretentions beyond their incomes or were downright stingy. The waiters' tardiness in refilling our glasses suggested the booze was in short supply, and long before we finished the unappetizing main course there was none to be had. The person most obviously upset about this was a little old Jewish lady who had already (I seem to remember) consumed more than her fair share of the available alcohol.