Next Archbishop of Canterbury Will Strive to Be 'a Bridge Between Factions'
Episcopal News Service. January 25, 1991 [91027]
Daniel Cattau
When Bishop George Carey was enthroned less than three years ago as bishop of Bath and Wells at the magnificent medieval cathedral in Wells, he said that compared to the earlier bishops he felt like a "mule among thoroughbreds."
These words came back to haunt Carey on January 5, the day before Epiphany, as 2,000 faithful gave him and his wife, Eileen, the warmest of farewells in what, even the cathedral dean admits, is perhaps the coldest of all English cathedrals.
"At the time we did not appreciate the full meaning of the phrase," said Suffragan Bishop Nigel McCulloch of Taunton. "But, of course, when it comes to altitudes it is the mule who can scale the heights."
Carey, who on April 19 will be enthroned as the 103rd archbishop of Canterbury, was given several gifts, including a silver replica of a small cross discovered recently in a 4th-century Christian grave at Shepton Mallet, a town located in the Somerset hills several miles from Wells.
The mule metaphor and the early Christian symbol -- which even predates St. Augustine, who became the first archbishop of Canterbury in the late 6th century -- are apt for the 55-year-old, humbly born Carey. He is assuming the archbishopric (officially on January 31) at a critical time for the Church of England and the worldwide Anglican Communion, of which he is the spiritual leader.
Many believe that Carey has the perseverance -- and faith -- to survive the many trials of a church besieged by controversy over the ordination of women, divided by party loyalties, and consigned to an increasingly marginal role in British life.
Even the normally optimistic Carey acknowledged the church's sorry state in a recent series of talks to the Anglican Renewal Movement. In remarks widely circulated in the British press, Carey claimed the church is under judgment of God for being "lukewarm," "disobedient," and "sinful and faithless."
After the farewell service, however, Carey struck a more diplomatic tone in a 1-1/2-hour interview with Episcopal Life over tea and biscuits in his large study at the bishop's palace. When asked about the state of the church, Carey said that there are some signs that it is "beginning to grow up," especially in the increasing number of vibrant churches.
Although the Church of England has seen its enrollments drop from 8.7 million members in 1970 to 6.9 million in 1987, last year, for first time in years, church attendance increased 1.5 percent and membership rose 1 percent. The growth has been attributed to the church's evangelical wing, with which Carey is often identified.
There are other signs of vitality. Better known for its scholarship and emphasis on spirituality, the church is beginning to make strides in developing better pastoral leadership.
"The Church of England is the largest single caring institution in Britain," Carey said. "On Monday through Saturday, we do the largely invisible work in hospitals, hospices, church schools, urban areas, and prisons. We're where people are, but they don't realize it."
Carey, obviously tired after a long, emotionally draining day, was charitable to Archbishop Robert Runcie, his predecessor, but he stated clearly that his style would be different. "My style may be the right thing for the 1990s," he said, "and Robert's style was the right thing for the 1980s."
Runcie and former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher often got into public rows over policies and social priorities. For his part, Carey said he first would try to talk with Prime Minister John Major if there was a disagreement. "There's no sense in going public," he said, "unless you want to make a point."
It would be a mistake, however, to characterize Carey as lacking in convictions. In a revealing book -- one of eight he has written -- about his vicarage in Durham from 1975 to 1982, titled A Church in the Market Place, Carey showed how a moribund church could open its doors in service to the community, and renew itself in worship and liturgy without worrying excessively about pleasing everyone.
From these and similar experiences, Carey learned "about the reality of God in a very dramatic way.... In a real sense, faith is stepping out into the unknown. I know I will make many mistakes, but I hope God will give me the grace to say I was wrong."
A relative unknown at the time of his appointment last July -- even Runcie called Carey's selection "imaginative" -- Carey comes from a large diocese with 300 clergy and 460 parishes spread over a mostly rural and affluent countryside. Even after his appointment, Carey has remained a bit of a mystery, primarily because he eschews labels. "I have never been a card-carrying anything," he said.
Raised in the evangelical tradition, Carey repeatedly expressed views that go against many common evangelical stereotypes: He favors the ordination of women; opposes a literal interpretation of the Bible; says that he was shaped by Catholic spirituality and liturgy, and the "best of liberalism"; credits charismatics with helping restore his faith; and uses Scripture, tradition, and reason as theological tools.
When asked about his apparent "healthy skepticism" about the faith, Carey replied enthusiastically: "I love that phrase." He added, "If I have an endemic weakness, it's that I over-intellectualize my faith."
Widely seen as a bridge between various factions in the church, Carey during the interview talked several times about the need for the church to "hold the center." Using the analogy of playing squash, Carey said, "I actually started to win games when I started to play from the center of the court."
He outlined this centrist view in a July 1988 essay in Theology, titled "Parties in the Church of England." In a divided society, he wrote, the church needs to show the way to unity by supplanting a party ideology, as St. Paul did, with a baptismal theology.
"Theologically one cannot 'belong' to a tradition or party," Carey wrote. "We might find faith through one tradition in the church, as I did, and we can obviously be nourished by one, but it can never replace the baptismal uniting which commits us to the church.
"This means we must make sure that our church comes before our tradition, however much we may owe the latter. Furthermore, it will mean that we must always judge the traditions of the church by the yardstick of the church and not the other way round.... Always remember that we belong together in the Body of Christ as fellow Anglicans, and we share more together than that which divides us."
In the 1990s, the issue that may make or break the church -- and perhaps Carey's tenure as archbishop -- is not party rivalries but the ordination of women. The measure, now being discussed in parishes, deaneries, and dioceses, is expected to go to the General Synod for a vote in 1992.
"Somehow I've got to navigate the Church of England through that stormy passage to a calm bypass, and do it in such a way that I don't lose half the crew," said Carey with a refined dialect that belies his cockney origins in East London's public housing.
Carey added that he hopes that during the debate on women's ordination the church will keep to the "central verities of the faith," and not get sidetracked unto other issues, like women's rights and homosexuality. (Gay and lesbian activists in the church have been largely critical of Carey's appointment.)
In a pamphlet published by the Movement for the Ordination of Women, written when Carey was principal of the evangelical Trinity College in Bristol, Carey struck a balanced view between "the finality of the Christian revelation as contained in Scripture and its openness to new possibilities in Christ." It is clear that he favors the ordination of women; the question for him as archbishop is more, "At what cost to the church?"
With meritocracy on the rise in the church as well as in British politics, it is probably no coincidence that this problem and others now rest with the son of a hotel porter. Carey described his upbringing as "very poor," and largely indifferent on religious matters. He was an avid reader, but left school at age 15.
He joined the Royal Air Force at age 17, where he grew to appreciate discipline and later developed, in his own words, "an ascetic life" filled with writing, reading, study, and prayer; he still tries to read a certain number of books each week, but, with age, seems more able to live "with the guilt within myself when I fail."
Wearing a dark gray suit and the bishop's purple clerical shirt, Carey seemed relaxed during the interview. He put his King Charles spaniel, Buccleuch, on his lap a few times and fingered his silver pectoral cross, received just hours earlier. His old-fashioned, two-tone framed glasses are as unpretentious as his quick smile that shows a sizeable gap between his two front teeth. His thinning hair and a square jaw are the most prominent features of a face that could just as easily be seen in a small shop as in Lambeth Palace.
When asked about the new archbishop, parishioners at Wells Cathedral offered straightforward testimonies. "He's a very ordinary man, warm and accessible," said David Lancashire, a retired Foreign Service officer. "But he's so very special," said Heather, his wife. Then the husband chimed in, "You feel he's a man with the hand of God on him."
Unlike many evangelicals, Carey's convictions did not grow out of a dramatic event or sudden revelation, but rather a slow, very Anglican, steady growth in the faith.
"My pilgrimage took the form of being very reflective," Carey said, adding it was "the reality of the Christian faith that led me into the priesthood."
The Rev. E.P.C. Patterson, an evangelical vicar of Dagenham, was a "strong, fearsome person" and a great influence on Carey. "What he gave me was a love of Scripture," said Carey, who often expresses gratitude for his evangelical background for enabling him to recall Scripture passages with ease. But Carey said he disliked Patterson's black-and-white view of the world, adding: "It took me six years to grow out of it."
Carey rejected Patterson's entreaties to attend an evangelical seminary and instead ended up at the London College of Divinity (now St. John's in Nottingham), and he eventually earned a doctorate in patristics from King's College (University of London).
"I went to theological college from a convinced evangelical background, but in a free-thinking setting," Carey said. He rejected the classic claims of evangelicals about biblical inerrancy, but came "to accept the trustworthiness of Scripture in terms of witnessing to Christ."
Carey added, "I do believe with all my heart in the creeds of the church and the straightforward thrust of divine revelation. But, as Christians, we see through a glass darkly, and we have to be very careful about making claims."
Some doubts have been expressed about his relative lack of international experience and exposure to the wider Christian church. Carey strongly defended his ecumenical background, noting that he was head of the church's Faith and Order Advisory Committee and a participant in a theological dialogue with the Nordic and Baltic Lutheran churches. "I have 20 years of being involved in ecumenical relationships," he said. "I won't be coming at it as a novice."
Carey expressed some frustration about the vast amounts of paper produced by theological dialogues with few practical results. He is hoping that the Roman Catholic Church eventually would recognize Anglican orders, in addition to the question of the ordination of women -- a sticking point in relations between Rome and Canterbury. But he added that the Roman Catholics "have a big problem in terms of their own disunity." In the short term, he said, relations with Rome may be a "little wobbly."
After the farewell service, Carey and his wife, Eileen -- who have two grown sons and two daughters -- took a short walk from the cathedral to the bishop's palace. The cathedral grounds were so dark after the afternoon service that it was difficult to see more than a few feet ahead.
As the Careys and an aide approached the drawbridge across the moat to the ancient palace, they were bathed in floodlights for a moment before entering the palace grounds.
Eileen Carey, whom Carey met at Dagenham, later described the feeling of "walking onto a stage" whenever she enters the beautiful palace grounds at night.
For George Carey, these were just his first steps into the limelight.