16 February 2017
Dropping the pilot
Farewell to Richard Chartres
by J.R.Thomas
Matters are dealt with differently in the spiritual world. Differently from in the worlds of politics and business, certainly. Can you imagine a situation where Mr Obama, having reached the end of his term of office, and not being allowed under the rules to stand again, would have retired without any sort of successor being ready to take over? No stepping up by Mr Biden to cover, no Mr Trump planning the redecoration of the Oval Office. Just a gap, an “interregnum” whilst everybody ponders who might be suitable to take over the job in due course. With, finally, a new appointment emerging perhaps a year or so later.
Yet, in the world of the spiritual this is normal and thought to be the proper way of doing things. Indeed, in local parishes it is considered downright vulgar even to begin planning for the selection and installation of a new rector until the previous one has been formally inducted into his new role long ago. As with rectors, so with bishops. Which is why the retirement of the present, 132nd, Bishop of London, Richard Chartres, marked by a splendid service at St Paul’s Cathedral last week, is followed by the appointment of…er…nobody. It is not that Chartres will be a hard act to follow – though he will be. Or that he had not given proper notice – he told the diocese last July that as he was approaching the usual age for clergy retirement (three score years and ten), he would retire this February. Or indeed that he was unpopular – he has achieved the remarkable result in the Church of England of being popular with almost all shades and strands of opinion and theology. Or even that he was not good with the paperwork (a common failing among clergymen) – he has been quite remarkably efficient at turning round the disorganised indebted sprawling urban bishopric which he took on, into a major (and solvent) success, whilst doing the same for many charities and groups in the area, and getting the attendance figures in most of London’s churches up. That is far from the least of his achievements; almost uniquely, in the Church of England, London attendances are thought to have doubled over the last twenty years.
The man is a saint, though he would have a few stern and scolding things to say on the theological aspects of that statement. He has been Bishop of London for twenty one years, an exceptionally long spell in an organisation that increasingly likes to circulate its staff around and not let relationships get too settled or parishes get wedded to any particular theology. He was a grammar school boy (his great uncle, remarkably and rather romantically, was a gun runner for the Irish republicans in the Troubles) who got to Cambridge to study history, but found himself drawn to the church and was ordained as a clergyman in 1974. His whole career since then has been spent in London, with him rising quickly to become Professor of Divinity at Gresham College – leading to a strange and rather back-biting row early in his occupation of the London mitre as to whether or not he was entitled to be known as Dr Chartres. In 1992 he became Bishop of Stepney, and in late 1995, of London.
In an age where bishops have reverted to Victorian standards of hirsuteness, it is perhaps not surprising that he sports a rather splendid beard, but unlike many of his episcopal fellows he did not adopt the lefty informal style that has tended in the C of E to go with hairiness of the chin. Chartres indeed is openly and proudly an old-fashioned mainstream Trollopean clergyman, with a strong voice which delivers firm and determined preaching – his sermons are splendidly straightforward, given with verve, accessibility, and authority, and he openly prefers traditional forms of service, a Prayer Book man, given the choice. But he has another aspect which is one of the reasons he has been such a success in London – he is very tolerant of alternative views; he is clear what he himself likes and believes, but is very happy to let others go their own ways in words, liturgy, and doctrine. He has refused to ordain women priests in London, an area which was at the forefront of the campaigns to get women formally into pulpits. This was not because he was or is against women priests, but because he was conscious of the strong feelings in parts of the London church against women’s ordination, and wanted to show respect for that viewpoint. So, in a very Trollopian solution, he also refused to ordain male clergy, leaving all ordinal matters to his team of area and suffragen bishops – ensuring that there were bishops for all tastes.
One cannot avoid the description of Trollopian for this bishop, and he is a known addict of Trollope’s work; he has the presence of a confident Victorian grandee of the cloth, and, unlike many of his fellow bishops who seem often doubting and troubled, has a nineteenth century confidence in his faith which he resolutely rings out. He dresses traditionally and in a style which enhances his comfortable authority – though his robes have a pocket specially made for his mobile phone.
There is a grandeur about Chartres, which some commentators have criticised, particularly frowning on his taste (as they put it) for hobnobbing with members of the Royal Family – the Prince of Wales has become a close friend and they have a similar outlook on life, with a particular enthusiasm for green issues, both urging a great deal more care for the environment. He was also close to Tony Blair, a man whose public interest in religion did not help his political standing perhaps, and became a comfort to Mrs Thatcher in her last years – his address at her state funeral was a splendid oration and well worth reading. To criticise this Bishop, or any Bishop, for such friendships seems especially unfair; it is inevitably part of the job in the London Diocese, which includes such extra duties as, for example, the Bishop of London’s role as Dean of the Chapel Royal, which provides ministry to the monarch and her family when in London.
Chartres could have been a success in almost any career, one suspects. He has great energy and a good mind, is quick and clear in decision making, chooses wisely and delegates with confidence. But he is a natural clergyman; his ministry has not been just about grand and public things – he has been a great support and friend to many, doing much good and many kindly deeds quietly and privately, and usually with great good humour and gentleness. (His sense of humour is much remarked on.) It is also fair to say that he is a man capable of very straight and persuasive talking when the situation demands it, and can be stern and clear to those who might haver and manoeuvre too much. That style has been one of the reasons for his success in London. He is able to leave things in such good order for the successor – whoever it turns out to be, whenever the gold mitre is finally placed on some new head.
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