We all know that diamonds are for ever. (Well, we kind of know that. ‘Ever’ is a long time and nobody that we know of has been there.) We also know a great deal about the chemical composition of materials that we dig out of the ground, especially those that are valuable to jewellers or digital pioneers. What we didn’t know about diamonds and other minerals until 1812 was their comparative hardness. Of course, people’s minds were on Napoleon at the time so their lack of curiosity is understandable. The same thing happened with antibiotics in WW2.
Friedrich Mohs published his scale of hardness and diamonds came out tops. At nine was ruby. And the scale went down to the softest, talc. Being hard has desirable qualities. It resists scratching. It puts a mineral in the league of sapphire and inspires diggers to seek out more of the same kind – especially bigger examples.
We can apply the Mohs scale to humans. At one end are the hard men who punish their bodies on the way to reaching physical bench-marks. Gentlemen are more tender and have more considerate make-ups. But the distinction is not without its problems. A hard man can be reduced to tears by a baby or toddler. A gentleman can show unexpected reserves of endurance when responsible for others who need support.
So how does this square with the aspirations of those who call themselves Christians? Is it trut to say that we go to the Old Testament for our hard men and the New for our gentlemen? Those gentlemen not looking for the limelight like Nicodemus, Zacchaeus and Joseph may incline us to think there may well have been a little-known group who were sympathetic to what Jesus was teaching. We may think too of Isaiah and his concern for his people as an Old Testament gentleman.
William Carey, the first protestant missionary, a Baptist, a great linguist, put it nicely: ‘A gentleman is the next best character after a Christian, and the latter includes the former. Money never makes a gentleman, neither does a fine appearance, but an enlarged understanding joined to engaging manners.’
ISLANDERS
Of the 38 inhabitants of Foula (one of the Shetland islands) who might be found worshipping on a Sunday, the Presbyterian brand is likely to be their chosen loyalty.
In the case of Fair Isle the worshippers are likely to be either Church of Scotland or Methodist.
And as for Hirta, the St Kilda island that lost all its 36 inhabitants when they were taken to the mainland in 1930, voluteers still come to what is a tiny military base in a sweeping bay.
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