Dear Justin
So it’s official.
After weeks of speculation, and helped by Ladbrokes, we now know that
you’re to be the next Archbishop of Canterbury. As your dean and colleague in
Durham, I want to offer heartfelt congratulations and to promise my prayers as
you begin this great journey.
I have fond memories of Coventry days when I was precentor
at the Cathedral and oversaw your ordination.
You and I got to know each other a little then. I thought at the time that you were someone
with a remarkable story and rather special gifts. You talked about your experience in the oil
industry – but not much: you were too focused on being a deacon and then a
priest, and too excited by the ministry that was opening up before you.
When you came to Durham last year, this was still true of
you. It was moving to install you in the great bishop’s throne in our
cathedral. I almost wanted to say that I
hoped its height and grandeur wouldn’t go to your head. But I knew I had no need to tell you that. Your
genuine modesty, your lack of self-importance, your wry take on the world and most
of all your deep spirituality would take care of you. You were more interested
in washing feet than living like a grandee as a successor of Durham’s prince-bishops.
You were completely committed to being a bishop who would put God and people
first.
Who would have thought that a year later you would be
leaving us? I won’t deny that I feel a personal sense of loss. You have begun
to be a real champion of this part of England that feels remote from the centre
of things, already a very needy place before it was hit hard hit by the financial
crisis. In the statement of needs that I helped write for the diocese before
your appointment, we said we wanted a bishop whose heart would be in the North
East (we also said we hoped the next bishop – you – would stay for several
years!). Well, your heart has been with us, even when you have been in London doing
the business of church and state, or overseas pursuing reconciliation in
divided societies like Nigeria. It is not your fault that you have been taken
from us now.
The whole world will be giving you advice as you contemplate
what kind of archbishop God wants you to be.
I’m not going to add much to that: it’s not words you need right now but
the knowledge that you will have wise and caring people around you to help you
discern the shape of this great and awful vocation, this siege perilous.
But I can’t resist saying just this. I hope you will take
with you the memory of our northern saints as you learn what it means to
inhabit this office. In Durham, you are the direct successor of Aidan, founder
of our diocese, and of Cuthbert in whose shrine in the Cathedral you have often
prayed. In a blog earlier this year I compared Rowan Williams with Cuthbert as
‘off-beat’ bishops. I wanted to say that
a Christian leader needs to be a bit elusive, not always saying or doing the
expected thing, not afraid of being surprising and keeping people guessing.
Already
the public wants to pigeon-hole you: evangelical rather than catholic, pro this
and against that. You are bigger than that, as anyone who knows you will confirm. You know that it needs great self-awareness to resist these easy either-ors. It also takes resilience and
courage to be your own man in leadership.
It depends on keeping the spiritual garden watered by long and
regular spells of solitariness, meditation and prayer. I know how important
this is to you, to go to the heart of faith and keep it alive and fresh. I hope the pressures of high office drive you more and more in the
contemplative direction which is the source of wisdom. I believe they will because your personal authenticity is so important to you. And I believe that you will
surprise, inspire and delight us too.
When Donald Coggan was installed as archbishop, his
secretary mis-typed ‘enthronement as ‘enthornment’. That gave him food for thought. The role was daunting enough then. How much
more complex and demanding it is today. Who knows what the next few years will
bring for our world, for our church and for you personally. To be a bishop or an archbishop feels to me
like a kind of crucifixion. Yet Jesus
wore his crown of thorns not only with dignity but also with hope for the joy
that was set before him. I pray that joy and hope will be yours at the spring
equinox when you come to be seated on the throne of Augustine.
So take the cup that is given you in Canterbury, and as you
wonder how on earth you find yourself there, smile a little at God’s strange
work, be thankful, and discover in the doing of his work that all shall be well.
And thank you.
With affection and prayers,
Michael
