wisdom

The local secondary school here is the 18th oldest school in the world. Right up there in the top 20 of the world's oldest schools. It's pretty impressive.

There's a lot of history about the Royal High. And a fair old bit of tradition as well.

And one of those great traditions they've had, for almost a century now, is that whereby the pupils leaving the school all walk through the great Memorial Door at the end of the last day of term.

The Memorial Door, a tribute to the pupils from the Royal High who gave their lives in the first World War, is only ever opened on this one occasion in the year. The departing pupils leave the school for the vast, expansive freedoms of the adult world, reminded as they do so of the huge and costly sacrifices made by generations now long gone.

It's always a moving occasion.

Today was no exception. I always count it a genuine privilege to start the proceedings off. I'm asked to lead in prayer, before the Scripture passage which I've chosen is read by the school captain.

No prayer through the course of a year takes more of my time in careful preparation than this one. It's a hugely significant occasion for a hugely varied company of folk.

I want the prayer to be more than just a mere formality we have somehow to get through before the real proceedings start. I want it to set the tone for all that will follow. I want it to serve as healthy reminder, before we ever begin, that to understand what's going on we have to look not only back across some 800 years of history - we have to look up as well.

I'd chosen as the passage to be read the words of James (3.13-18).

"The wisdom that comes from heaven...."

And today as I pray I was wanting us all to be thanking the Lord for the educational heritage we have here in this land, and for the way in which those who shaped the features of our nation’s life were taught from on high.

And in thanking the Lord for such favour this land has been shown, I was wanting as well to be asking that it should be always truth, not information, that we store up in our minds, wisdom more than knowledge that we seek with all our hearts, and peace far more than any mere prosperity that we pursue throughout the coming years.

There are speeches, of course, as well as all the prizes being distributed. It's a long morning. In fact, it's the whole morning really.

The speeches this year were very good.

The guest former pupil was George Pascoe-Watson, a former journalist with The Sun, who moves in high places and had stories to tell of encounters with all sorts of folk.

The Dux of the school made an excellent speech as well - amusing, uplifting and warmly affirming the school and the year group he's known.

Getting on for four years on from when I think it happened (at the start of their 3rd year at school), he remembered the one young man in their year who wasn't there today - Jamie Flannigan, a likeable, fun-loving lad who'd died after an accident on his bicycle. It was moving to see how the memory of that sorrow for his peer group, three years on, was still so fresh. I remember the time myself (click here). Some things leave a lasting sort of mark upon your life.

The speech from the new Rector was also good. The first female Rector in 800 years of history is an onerous burden for any such person to bear. But Jane Frith bears it well, and her speech was a good deal more personal than the generally more political sort of speeches that her predecessors made.

Now in mid-life, looking back to the end of her schooldays, what would she say to that eighteen year old who was leaving her school life behind? Two things, she said.

First, set yourself goals. Set them, share them, and get folk to hold you to them. Otherwise you'll drift. It was good and rousing stuff.

And then, second, embrace your mistakes and learn from the times that you fail. 'Get over it, girl, and move on,' was the memorable line that she had.

Snatches of wisdom and insight from three different folk, born from their experience. Fed to these pupils whose school days are now, today, over.

They'll go on learning, of course. One way or another.

But it's wisdom that we need. A wisdom which is not the sort of thing that any text books teach. A wisdom which is not the sort of thing we gain by simply somehow building on experience.

Wisdom comes from above. It's learned from the Lord.

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."

A healthy respect for the Lord as our Maker and King. A humbling and an energising reverence for the living God, an eagerness and openness to all that he would teach us by his Spirit through his Word.

That sort of wisdom is "first of all pure: then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere."

Today in our world, we’re more grateful than ever that those who shaped the features of our nation’s life were, indeed, both wise and understanding - not just knowledgeable and smart.

It's their mantle we're challenged now to wear.