Chris Evans Show


This is the script of this morning’s Pause for Thought on BBC Radio 2’s Chris Evans Show:

I have just got back from ten days in Germany. The first half was work – speaking engagements in Halle, Jena and Berlin; the second bit was holiday with friends. Now, I know this wouldn’t be everyone’s idea of fun, but one of the best bits was a tour of the German Foreign Ministry – used to be Hitler’s bank, then became the HQ of the East German ruling party. History haunts the corridors here.

But, the absolute best bit of the trip was a Bible exhibition in Wittenberg. Yes – a Bible exhibition in Wittenberg.

Wittenberg is where 500 years ago an angry monk got fed up and started a row with the Pope. Martin Luther triggered the Reformation, and the Reformation changed Europe and the world for ever. So, last weekend 100,000 people came together in a field outside the town to celebrate under the blazing sun.

While there we popped into the exhibition where, among other things, we saw Elvis Presley’s Bible. In fact, two of them. In one of them he has written against the note of his mother’s death: “I love you Mama.”

Now, Elvis recorded a lot of Gospel music, but it’s hard to know how he related what he read and believed to how he lived. I sympathise with him, and no one should stand in judgment. And we should remember that, 61 years ago yesterday when he introduced his new single Hound Dog on the Milton Berle Show and shocked the world by wiggling his hips, he probably wasn’t thinking about world revolution. Yet, he changed music for ever, didn’t he?

Now, Martin Luther and Elvis Presley are not equals in what they achieved, but they both knew about what Christians call grace. Both show that the world can be changed by ordinary people who take the risk of doing something extraordinary – usually without calculating the cost or the consequences. Both men were conflicted – a bit of a mess in many ways. Which makes them just like you and me.

You can see why Elvis called his home Graceland, can’t you? Maybe ‘Love me tender’ was a plea. Hounded by the dogs of other people’s demands on him, he still, ultimately, found himself in the same place as Martin Luther… and me: all shook up by mercy.

This is the script of this morning's Pause for Thought on BBC Radio 2's Chris Evans Show on the day Leonard Cohen died. In the studio were actors Rufus Sewell and Sarah Parish, musicians Sir Cliff Richard and Emeli Sandé:

Well, it's not been a boring week on the news front, has it? And it's not bad that it will end with us looking to remember the reality of human life: often fragile, conflicted and uncertain. [As Leonard Cohen put it: “Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything – that's how the light gets in.”]

On Sunday I'll be standing in the rain – it usually rains – in Leeds as we stand in silence and bring to memory those who have lost their lives in conflict. No sentimentalism, no romanticising war, no escapism into a glorious past – just silent reflection in the face of enormous loss.

But, did you know that Sunday also has another designation? I have no idea who decides on these things, but apparently it is World Kindness Day. Really.

Now, I realise this might sound a bit out of place, given the lack of kindness that has characterised political debate and filled our headlines recently; but, don't mock it too quickly.

I reckon kindness is one of the most underrated virtues in today's world. It isn't bland or soft or feeble or weak. It isn't about namby-pambyism or avoidance of conflict. Kindness comes when, even where it isn't deserved, we dare to offer an opening to humanity and mercy, regardless of cost or reward. It is more than being nice and it can be very demanding in certain circumstances. If you want a different definition: kindness is what you usually don't see on social media when people you don't know have a big axe of aggression to grind.

Can you imagine what a kinder world would look like? Less suspicion and more openness? More generosity and less selfishness? Try it. It should come as no surprise that one New Testament writer included kindness among other hard-to-do virtues (he called them “fruits of the Spirit”) such as love, joy, peace, patience, generosity and faithfulness. None of them easy; all of them costly.

Maybe these fruits should form the pillars of the earth on which we build our lives. In the words of one of Cliff's old songs, they might also help us to travel light in a burdened world, and open space for hope to people who worry that it is all closing down on them.

Remember kindness.

 

This is the script fo this morning's Pause for Thought on BBC Radio 2's Chris Evans Show in the company of Mo Farah, Tamsin Greig, Robert Winston and Jamie Lawson:

I have a theory about children's books. It's not original: children's books are mainly read by adults. By adults, for adults. Remember when Harry Potter was just starting out on literary life and the publisher had to use two covers: one for kids and a different one for grown-ups … just so the latter wouldn't get embarrassed on a train?

I think part of the reason for this might be that loads of adults are learning that imagination is not just for the little ones, and words open up new worlds of wonder.

I remember being accused of using simple language in one of my books. Accused, I think, because the reviewer thought I should posh up a bit and be more academic. But, the genius of good communication is to make the complex simple, not the simple complex.

I am no stranger to this. Every time I open the gospels I am confronted by stories and images. This stuff isn't meant to hit you with some solid truth, but to get your imagination working – sneaking round the back of your mind when you're not expecting it, and scratching away at your memory. “Where God is,” says Jesus, “is like a mustard seed.”

What?! What's that supposed to mean? Use your imagination! Something tiny grows in unlikely places into a whacking big tree in whose branches the birds make their nests – and the tree doesn't get to choose which birds. Get it? God is to be found where there is hiddenness, outrageous growth, unlikely generosity, hospitality. You get the idea?

A couple of days ago I was in a primary school at Low Moor in Bradford. I was giving certificates to young leaders who, together, had made a difference to their local community in a variety of ways. They had learned to look for what others didn't see – like litter and the absence of birds – and did a rubbish collection and built bird boxes. They learned to be surprised by the difference they could make. Leading meant taking responsibility instead of waiting for others to do it for them. Brilliant.

And they were full of imagination at a world they are still discovering.

So, keep the books coming. Keep the stories rolling. Keep the imagination fired up – and try growing up into a child.