When I was a sixth former at my Catholic convent school, the nuns would sometimes organise retreat days for us to spend some time in prayer and also think about life’s big issues.
Sometimes, there would be folksy metaphorical tales such as one about an Englishman driving in the middle of the night in Ireland who stops at a red traffic light, even though there is no other traffic. He sits there, rigidly obeying the red light and only drives off when it turns green.
