Blogging Archbishops 4 - "it's not what you say..."

This is the fourth in a series of posts: for the whole set, start with part 1

Before the Archbishops arrived in Cambridge, one of my blogreaders wanted to know whether Archbishop Sentamu had gone back to wearing his clerical collar, or was still keeping up his protest about Zimbabwe. I was planning to ask him, but he turned up collarless so I guess the question was answered.

One of the things that became clear through the three days, though, was that the Archbishops “spoke” just as much by their presence and engagement with people as through the words they said. There’s been a lot of press coverage lately which seems to have ridden on the back of a dehumanised view of Bishops and Archbishops.  I sometimes wonder whether the press has an unwritten rule that they will avoid the actual, biting issues that really are being addressed within theological discourse, simply by portraying every member of the clergy either as an out-of-touch intellectual, or an out-of-date buffoon, or as a hypocritical drunk. It’s so much easier to ridicule a Bishop for being reportedly drunk, or for using five-syllable words instead of soundbites, or daring to engage with the idea of Sharia, than it is to admit that theological and religious issues have a vital part to play in the social and political discourse of a society that deems itself “secular” and above all that.

As the Cambridge Consultations got under way it seemed to me that the various events were gathering crowds with very mixed expectations. Some arrived ready to slam the “ivory tower” or out of touch religiosity they thought they would discover. Others were hoping to find that the Archbishops had smart answers for their critics.

What actually emerged was engaged dialogue; two very bright men who didn’t claim to have all the answers but who spoke with confidence about a gospel that has something to offer – some role in shaping a world that we can believe in. And although this partly emerged through what they had to say, it was also through their being willing to let themselves be real and visible to people, not merely giving a public and guarded appearance. They laughed and talked, and late in the day a couple of times they looked really dead-on-their-feet tired. They answered questions honestly and freely, they listened carefully, they treated their critics with respect and thoughtful engagement. They showed themselves to be real, human, in touch and engaged with life, not lost in a 19^th century religious museum.

I'll continue the story in the next post...