My afternoon committee meeting should have been of interest to me because it concerned my special subject, religious education, but by that time I hardly felt capable of concentrating on it. The committee’s title was The Church of England’s Working Party on Education in Theological Colleges, known as CEWPET (even as CUPID by the facetious new Bishop of Radbury), and I was the chairman. The meeting that day was to discuss an interim report which I was due to make to the Church Assembly later that month, and I intended to announce my unswerving belief that the purpose of theological colleges was to train men for the priesthood by giving them a thorough grounding in Christian history, doctrine, literature and liturgy so that they could proclaim the Gospel cogently and conduct a well-ordered service of worship. This aim might seem very obvious to an outsider, but within the Church fierce debates raged about reforming the traditional syllabus. It was all part of the general debate about how far the Church should modernise itself in order to speak intelligibly to twentieth-century man.
My opponent that day was inevitably going to be that most tiresome of my liberal opponents, the new Bishop of Radbury, whom I now knew was called Sunbeam, and I was far from surprised when, true to form, he made a shamefully florid speech in response to my opening remarks. As far as I could judge, he seemed to be advocating that we should all return to the educational standards of first-century Palestine.
‘… and why not abolish all exams? What’s the point of ordinands cramming their heads with facts which are irrelevant to this day and age? Who cares now about the quarrels of the Early Church? Would our Lord Jesus Christ have passed the university exams in theology? Would he even have passed Religious Knowledge at A-level? Why, I bet he wouldn’t even have wasted time sitting the exam! He’d have been out there in the world caring for people, relating to them, sympathising with them about poverty – political oppression – sexual injustice – oh, and while we’re on the subject of sex, I think we should bear in mind the inevitable ordination of women and put an end to this nonsense about making the theological colleges into single-sex ghettos like the colleges at Oxford and Cambridge. It’s my firm belief that women –’
‘No, really, Leslie,’ I interrupted, reflecting that Lyle would have been worrying by this time about my blood pressure, ‘before you start putting cooking and needlework on the curriculum, I’m going to rein you in. We’re still a long way from ordaining women, and fascinating though it may be to picture Our Lord wearing jeans and kicking the educational system in the teeth, I think we should face the fact that if Our Lord were here today he’d preach the Kingdom of God, just as he did two thousand years ago – he’d preach the absolute truths which never change, not the current fashions which are ephemeral. Now, if we can turn to the statistics showing the decline in candidates for A-level –’
‘Excuse me, Bishop,’ interposed the one woman on the committee, a thin woman draped in purple, ‘but I find these graphs confusing.’
‘Women can never understand graphs,’ I said, in such a state of irritation by this time that I failed to think before I spoke. ‘I’ve noticed that before.’
‘I must say, Bishop, I find that a surprisingly offensive remark, particularly coming from a man of your distinction!’
‘I do apologise, Miss Drew …’ I was indeed horrified to realise I had been discourteous to a lady.
‘Now, Charles,’ said the abominable Bishop of Radbury, ‘if you’d had sociology lessons during your own training for the priesthood, you’d have overcome the deficiencies of your public school education and achieved a more enlightened attitude to women – with the result that such a remark would never have passed your lips!’
‘If by an “enlightened attitude” you mean a belief that men and women are interchangeable,’ I said, ‘that’s nonsense. Truth is truth, and I’ve noticed that women on the whole are less comfortable with mathematical information than men. Of course I was wrong to say they can never understand it, and I apologise unreservedly to Miss Drew for that, but men and women are complementary, not identical – equal before God but nonetheless dissimilar – and it’s a liberal delusion to assume otherwise.’
‘Okay, fine,’ said Sunbeam brightly. ‘Why don’t you exercise your complementary masculine powers by explaining the graphs to Miss Drew? I’m sure we’d all welcome a shaft of enlightenment from our chairman.’
Very fortunately I had heeded Roger’s warning about the graphs and had managed to work out on the train a way of dismissing them when the subject of A-level statistics was under discussion.
‘To avoid controversy,’ I said at once, ‘and to ensure this meeting doesn’t last longer than the allotted time, why don’t we pass over the graphs altogether and turn to the statistics on page …’ I somehow succeeded in extricating myself from this tight corner, and the meeting ground on until I had the majority of the committee on my side at a quarter past four. After taking care to say a tender goodbye to the offended Miss Drew I retired with relief to the lavatory but faltered at the sight of Sunbeam at the urinal.
‘You know, Charles,’ he said with an unexpected seriousness, ‘as a brother-bishop who wishes you well, I think you should ask yourself why you’re so keen to cling to these absolute truths of yours which keep you in such a conservative straitjacket. Personally I feel liberated by the modern view that everything’s relative and that there are no absolutes any more – but could it be that for some reason you find the idea of such liberation threatening?’
‘My dear Leslie, liberals like you can be as dogmatic as any conservative, and since relativism is simply an ideology like any other, maybe you should ask yourself why you’re treating it as one of the absolute truths you profess to despise! Why do you feel driven to rebel against order by embracing chaos?’
‘Good point!’ said Sunbeam cheerily. ‘You answer my question and I’ll try to answer yours!’
‘Obviously we must call this skirmish a draw,’ I said, satisfied that I had won it by pointing out to him that intellectually he was behaving like an adolescent. ‘By the way, before I rush off I must just ask you this: what can you tell me about a priest from your diocese called Lewis Hall?’
‘Hall,’ mused Sunbeam, adjusting his ill-cut, off-the-peg suit. (Naturally he refused to wear the traditional uniform.) ‘Hall, Hall – oh, Hall! Yes, he’s left the Radbury diocese now, much to my relief- he’s one of those embarrassing types who fancy exorcism. Apparently my predecessor Derek Preston gave him a bit of leeway but when I let it be known that I wasn’t standing for any of that kind of hanky-panky, Hall realised he had to seek fresh woods and pastures new … Don’t tell me he’s wound up in Starbridge!’
‘“Passing through” will probably be the final description of his activities. Was there any scandal attached to him?’
‘Isn’t any modern clergyman who dabbles in exorcism a scandal of unenlightenment?’
‘No, I meant –’
‘Oh, I know what you meant! No, Charles, he’s not a homosexual, and if he does run around with women on the quiet he takes care not to commit the ultimate sin of being found out. Did he tell you he was divorced?’
‘Yes.’
‘In that case I’m surprised you’re sufficiently interested to ask me about him – although in my opinion the Church should welcome a divorced clergyman even if he was the guilty party and even if he’s remarried. We should welcome homosexuals more warmly too. I mean, are we Christians or aren’t we? Shouldn’t one love and accept people instead of persecuting and condemning them?’
I said: ‘Of course we must love people no matter what they’ve done, but we mustn’t forget that love should include justice for those who have been wronged by the sins of others – you can’t just pretend that sin doesn’t matter! Sin hurts people, sin destroys lives – haven’t you yourself ever suffered as the result of the wrong acts of others?’
Leslie Sunderland carefully finished drying his hands on the towel. Then he turned