Age shall not weary them
I RETURNED to Cambridge recently to preach at the funeral of one of my esteemed predecessors as Dean of St John’s. Andrew MacIntosh was a remarkable man in so many ways (Obituary, 31 January).
He was a Hebraic scholar who, over his many years in the college, had taught hundreds of theology students, many of whom returned to say goodbye at a very moving Prayer Book requiem, which included the singing of the Sursum Corda and Sanctus immediately after the committal — something that Andrew had specifically requested. He was keen to keep the focus on God and not on him, and he left strict instructions that “no toe-curling, awful rugger-club speech” should be given.
Many years ago, Andrew had famously turned down for admission to the college a student by the name of Rowan Williams. When the student later became the Archbishop of Canterbury, Andrew sent him a postcard with the words “The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.”
What I will always remember is Andrew’s wry and often naughty humour. On hearing that a rather elderly Fellow of the college had recently ventured on to a dating app, a colleague enquired what the app for people of such an age was called. “‘Carbon dating’, I should think,” Andrew said.
Speaking truth to power
THERE is something about a funeral that makes me recall Shakespeare’s Richard II: “I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.” It was good, then, to see the current production at the Bridge Theatre, with Jonathan Bailey playing the King.
At one point, Richard reflects on the word “great”, and how it might not mean “greatly good”. It is a timely reflection, as we watch that word chanted at feverish rallies across the United States and parts of Europe. What makes us great may not be our power, but our values — something that those who offer various remedies to Make the Church of England Great Again might also need to remember.
Like many, I can hardly listen to the news as it launches yet another shock to the ethical system from a man in a slick suit who has a knack for turning honest complexity into dishonest simplicity. I am now of the mind that politicians and nappies have one thing in common: they should both be changed regularly — and for the same reason.
Free to go
THIS year, in our social-justice programme, Southwark Cathedral is focusing on modern slavery. Besides holding various training sessions for congregation and staff, visitor engagement, talks, art exhibitions, and choir concerts by survivors, we are also currently working with a group of women who have been in domestic servitude and are now living in a safe house.
In partnership with the charity Hestia, we are offering craft workshops, at which the women begin to talk with each other — something that anyone who has been enslaved is fearful of doing, because whom can you trust?
“Modern slavery” is an umbrella term for wide-ranging forms of exploitation by criminals who often prey on children, the vulnerable, and the poor. It is happening, near you, right now. I have been deeply moved by the stories of those I have met — from kitchen workers who are locked up on restaurant premises at the end of an 18-hour day to women who have been imprisoned for sex and who fear for their lives every minute — and I see clearly that Abraham Lincoln was right: “If slavery isn’t wrong, nothing is wrong.”
A love for life
NEW research by a German university has found that heterosexual men are far likelier than women to be the first person in a relationship to say “I love you.” At the same time, a YouGov poll revealed that 55 per cent of the adult respondents thought that pre-nuptial agreements — to anticipate how to divide assets in the event of a divorce — were a good idea. Zsa Zsa Gabor comes to mind: “I am a great housekeeper. I get divorced, I keep the house.”
So, it was good to make my way to Durham to be part of a panel discussion at Van Mildert College, exploring the theme “If Love is Love, Do We Still Need Marriage?”. The students were refreshingly honest as they reflected on what sort of relationship in life they aspired to, and how that relationship might relate to society.
At one point, I read aloud the vows from the Church of England marriage service. You could have heard a pin drop. In a world in which everything is disposable, these words are not. If influencers are ready to talk about the best and the rest, winners and losers, perhaps we should be encouraging them to take seriously words that speak of mutuality, togetherness, and problems shared: words that speak of a shared future. I’m for marriage and believe that it should be available for everyone. We are all made to love.
Soul searching
HERE, at the cathedral, we are starting a new podcast, and I’ve decided to interview a few folk about their favourite poems. The world needs more poetry in it: poems can be agents of re-enchantment, and it will be interesting to see how poetic resonance has been at work in people’s lives.
When someone is enjoying a book, they often describe it as “unputdownable”. A poetry book is the opposite. It is very putdownable, because you keep having to think more about the line you have just read, and how you respond to it. It requires a long attention span.
Poems are not an escape from the world, but can help us to live more deeply in it. I was sad, then, to read of the death of the Irish poet Michael Longley. He was the real deal. I am still haunted by something that he once said in an interview, when asked where all his poetry came from: “If I knew where poems came from, I’d go and live there.” I’m still poring over the map.
The Very Revd Dr Mark Oakley is the Dean of Southwark, and Canon Theologian of Wakefield Cathedral.
