I’ve been clearing out the study, deciding which books to
keep and which to discard (many are called but few are chosen!). It’s a thankless
task but occasionally it throws up something that makes you stop and take
stock. Today I came across a historic video of one of my predecessors. He too
was retiring and this short documentary was put together by Tyne-Tees TV to
mark his eight years in Durham. I needed a break so I sat down to watch it.
Some of you will remember Peter Baelz who was Dean of Durham
from 1980 to 1988. He had been Regius Professor of Moral and Pastoral Theology
at Oxford, so another in the line of distinguished theologians who have held
this office down the centuries. (His predecessor had been Eric Heaton who had taught me Old Testament at Oxford in the 1970s.) But it's not an aristocratic bookish don who comes across in this endearing TV
portrait but a wise, kind and thoughtful
priest who had evidently relished his years at Durham and come to love the
Cathedral and its people.
The film follows the Dean round the Cathedral and its environs.
As he walks, he chats amiably about what it means to be Dean in such a place.
Interestingly, he begins not by rhapsodising about its history or heritage, its
music or its liturgy, but by telling us that the Dean’s role is like being the managing
director of a small business. He points out that the Cathedral gives employment
to nearly 100 people engaged in a whole variety of tasks. We meet some of them,
including a young stonemason who explains what he’s doing and why it is so
important.
You sense that the stones of Durham have come to matter to
the Dean in an almost mystical way. But not as an end in themselves. They exist
to serve a higher purpose, and this is about human beings, communities, ultimately
God himself. He speaks lovingly about its saints as his companions: Cuthbert at
one end of the Cathedral and Bede at the other. A cathedral, he suggests,
travels through time as a symbol of the enduring values of religious faith. (He
is dismissive of the ‘Land of the Prince-Bishops’ signs at County Durham’s
gateways because, he says, they suggest a backward-looking church whereas Christians
today must always look forward to the future in hope.)
He has a lot to say about the choristers and the Chorister
School where they are educated. (I recently came across a delightful photo of Peter
Baelz in the cloister on the day of his installation as Dean, surrounded by a
gaggle of laughing choristers.) He shows off the newly-constructed sports hall
with pride, explaining how tricky it is to build well in such a sensitive
historic environment. It sounds as though the Cathedral’s daily choral worship gave
him special pleasure and inspiration.
Having watched this delightful piece, I tweeted that I
wish I’d seen it twelve years ago when I arrived here as Dean myself. Someone asked me why, and what I drew out of this documentary.
It’s not so much what he says about cathedral life and
Durham in particular. I’d already worked full-time in cathedrals for a decade
and a half when I arrived here. No, it’s much more to do with his personal style. There is so much to admire in the way he goes about his business, something
refreshingly ordinary. There is not a trace of self-importance in him: witness the little touches
like waving to people as he cycles past them in the College, his personal interest
in the people he meets, his curiosity in the way he talks to that young
stonemason about his work, his affectionate relationships with the choristers,
his personal enjoyment of his home, 'the best house in Durham', where my wife and I
have lived during these years.
Even late in our working lives, I suppose we all invoke our role
models to help us make sense of our roles. I’ve always believed that the
essential priestliness of a Dean lies close to the heart of what makes him or
her credible as the head of a religious foundation. In Peter Baelz, the
Cathedral had a Dean who understood from his own experience of parish life what it meant to be the
leader of a faith community. On the basis of what I had read about him, I had
already spoken about him some years ago in a lecture on Durham’s Deans as one of the wisest
and the best. Today I have come to see why that instinct was right, why I recognised in him a true 'reflective practitioner'. Which is why
I couldn’t have done better than to watch the video twelve years ago.
‘How are you feeling about retirement?’ asks the
interviewer. He replies that part of him will be glad to be free of the
burdens of the role, but another part will be hurting for all that he has come
to love in Durham and that he is going to miss sorely. Well, I still have a couple
of months’ ministry as a Dean to go. When Michaelmas comes, part of me will be relieved, it’s true,
but another part - a very big one - is going to hurt badly. How could it not when I've been privileged to live and work in such a marvellous place and with such wonderful people?
But watching the film, I thought to myself: it’s never too late to learn from the people who inspire us. These last few weeks could still be a time to learn and to grow as a priest. God willing.
But watching the film, I thought to myself: it’s never too late to learn from the people who inspire us. These last few weeks could still be a time to learn and to grow as a priest. God willing.