The intellectual storm created by Honest to God was far from altogether negative. At St Mary’s, with an intelligent and discerning congregation, the opportunity was taken by the staff to preach on the themes of Robinson’s book, and we were not afraid to encourage the congregation to read it. One of my responsibilities was for the thirty-to-forty age group, which met following the Sunday-evening service. We usually numbered in excess of fifty, and sometimes up to a hundred if I managed to tempt a popular speaker to address us. In addition, I started a fortnightly study group for those who wished to explore the Christian faith more deeply, and a regular membership of twenty to thirty was soon established.
Peter was a disciplined leader whose expectations were high. Visiting the parish systematically was a priority, and each of the staff had to make twenty-five calls a week, which had to be written up with a verbal report to be presented at the Monday staff meeting. To start with I found this a great irritant, but as time went on I grew to appreciate its thoroughness and the concern for people that it demonstrated.
Without realising it at the time, I caused a small sensation in my first week by going to the local town hall and asking if I could speak to the person in charge of Social Services. I managed to see the Chief Social Officer, and after explaining who I was, asked him whether, as I would be visiting a great many people in the months and years to come, he did not agree that there would be some virtue in my knowing who was concerned with the elderly, handicapped and others from the standpoint of the Social Services. Could not some collaboration be considered?
I recall to this day the look of astonishment that passed over his face. ‘In all my years of working,’ he slowly remarked, ‘a representative of the church has never bothered to contact us or made a suggestion of this kind. I think it is a splendid idea, and we must make sure we are in touch.’ Peter Johnston was contacted later that week, and was delighted that official links would be established between Social Services and the church. For myself, I was startled that everyone found the approach so remarkable. I thought it was obvious. It was illustrative of the wide gap between the church and the community which still exists to this day. It also highlighted an unwillingness on the part of many clergy to work with other professionals.
As a curate I was required to attend Post-Ordination Training with other Deacons and young clergy in the diocese of London. ‘Potty’ training, as it was known to us all, consisted of lectures on themes related to the ordained ministry, together with essays that we had to submit at regular intervals. I had heard from others that the training was unsatisfactory, and decided to approach the Bishop of London with another idea – could I be allowed to enrol at King’s College, London to pursue a master of theology degree? Permission was given, and soon after ordination to the priesthood I began research on the Apostolic Fathers. At college I had become aware of the importance of a collection of writings – some obscure, others less so – that appeared at the end of the New Testament era and at the beginning of the second century AD. This little-known period is of critical importance for the study of the Church and its ministry, known as ecclesiology, because it was then that the Church first wrestled with vital principles relating to its development and growth throughout the Mediterranean region. I was fully aware that it would be very difficult to balance the demands of parish and family life with the obligations of a research degree, but I was determined to try. Eileen was also keen for me to do postgraduate work, and I duly registered and obtained the services of Professor H.D. McDonald, Vice Principal of London Bible College, as my supervisor. ‘Derry-Mac’, as he was popularly known, was an Irish nonconformist scholar of great erudition and ability. We clicked immediately, and the work began.
Central to my desire to study this period of the Church’s life was a fascination with the Catholic tradition of the Church, especially Roman Catholicism. All I knew of Roman Catholicism had been derived from books, largely anti-Rome, and from the partisan sermons of Pit-Pat. I was unable to accept that the Roman Catholic Church was as heretical and unreformed as I had been led to believe, and believed that research into the Apostolic Fathers would help to answer many of my questions.
I was fortunate that my study coincided with the Second Vatican Council, called by Pope John XXIII in 1959 and concluded in 1965. Although John XXIII was an old man, dismissed by many as a ‘care-taker’ Pope, his decision to call a General Council revolutionised the Catholic Church through its policy of ‘aggorniamento’ (renewal). It was a breathtaking decision. From that moment on the Roman Catholic Church entered upon an engagement with the world, other Churches and other religions that allowed it to speak again with authority.
The Second Vatican Council was having an effect at the local level too. I was asked by the Bishop of London to join a small Roman Catholic/Church of England study group to study the impressive documents of the Council. If I had any prejudices or suspicions about Catholicism, this encounter with Roman Catholic priests, religious and lay people, laid them to rest entirely. I particularly recall a Bible study when a nun of my age exclaimed, ‘We must go back to the scriptures and find our unity there!’ The statement surprised and angered me at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it appealed to me. My anger evaporated as I found myself thinking, ‘What do you mean, “get back to the scriptures”? You Catholics are the ones who have left them behind through teaching things which are not found in them.’ But I knew instinctively that such a possessive attitude to scripture was wrong, however disagreeable I might consider some aspects of RC teaching to be. She was correct – the only way forward was to go back to our common roots. Only by doing that could we find unity, by seeing one another as brothers and sisters bound by a common commitment to Jesus Christ, and not as two warring groups, each claiming to possess the whole truth and denying the other’s version.
I completed my fifty-thousand-word dissertation for the M.Th., sat a three-hour paper on the Apostolic Fathers, and then shortly before Christmas 1965 had to appear before the leading theologian Professor Eric Mascall and another examiner for the ‘viva’. It seemed to go well, but towards the end of the session I was longing for someone to put me out of my misery – had I passed or not? I didn’t feel I could ask, and believed that the examiners would certainly not tell me. But as Professor Mascall walked me to the door, he reached out his hand and, looking me intently in the eye, said, ‘You WILL have a very happy Christmas!’
All I could reply was, ‘Thank you, sir. I am so glad to hear it. Happy Christmas to you.’ I think I floated home to tell my patient wife what Eric had said. He was an outstanding scholar, and it was a privilege to have been taught by him and to have known him. I still feel a tinge of sadness that, although I regard the ordination of women as a wholly positive and necessary thing, and am delighted that under my leadership the Church of England had the courage to legislate for it, the decision caused Eric so much distress in his old age, as he felt our Church lacked the authority to take such a momentous decision alone.
Despite my other activities, ministry in the parish was certainly not neglected. I poured myself into the responsibilities entrusted to me – the work with adults, and also the Sunday school. With the help of Liz Salmon the Sunday school became a thriving and important part of the church’s mission. Liz became a friend of the family for life, and remained a committed member of St Mary’s as a churchwarden and a great supporter of missionary work abroad.
I felt strongly that the Sunday school could not rely simply on children coming to a dreary church hall on a Sunday afternoon – we had to supplement it with exciting initiatives to reach into the homes of the parish. I started a Boys’ Club, and established a football team. This certainly helped attract boys in football-mad Islington, the home of Arsenal FC. Every year during the Easter holidays several of us held a Children’s Holiday Club that attracted many youngsters. The theme varied: one year it was a ‘Wild West Week’, another the ‘Jungle Holiday Club’, another ‘Treasure Island’. Church members were roped in to assist, and we had considerable success in reaching out to the local schools and community.
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