Tuning in…
Tuning in…
Castaway
1 appearance
Archbishop of Canterbury, leads the Anglican Communion of 77 million people across 167 countries.
On the island
Eight records
It's a joke, really. In the family, we play lots of games together. There's a particular car game which destroys the packs of cards called Racing Demon. And the more of you there are, the more destructive and noisy it is. And it requires huge concentration. Everyone's yelling. And one of the things I used to do to put people off was to start singing this song. And given my singing skills and the family joining in in harmony, you could actually bring the entire game to a halt amidst screams of protest from the girl who was winning.
Symphony No. 6 in F major, Op. 68 'Pastoral'
Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra (conducted by Herbert von Karajan)
This brings back memories of Norfolk, being at my grandmother's house, often with my mother, and being very happy there. It's where I learnt to sail and it brings back that sense of security and safety and a place that was good with the family.
And when I was at Coventry Cathedral as a canon doing the international reconciliation work at one of the great services during December, it was sung from one end of the cathedral to the other, and it said everything. It was the breaking into the darkness. And if you're doing reconciliation work, there's a lot of darkness about. And hearing proclaimed, God is with us. Christ is here.
Fourth of the Day is a South Sudanese song and it's because it picks up the influence that Africa has had in my life. South Sudan we've spoken already about the impact that visit had on me that sense of their faith and trust and joy in God in the midst of absolute horror.
Blessed Be Your NameFavourite
Matt and Beth Redman, they're songwriters in the contemporary worship scene. And it expresses brilliantly what we've just been talking about.
One day back some years ago, early 2007, a letter came through the door inviting me to become Dean of Liverpool. And I remember being at Anfield on the anniversary of the Hillsborough disaster and this being sung, and then going back to the cathedral and finding Everton and Liverpool scarves all over the cathedral. But this amazing, wonderful, poor, battered, thrusting, lively, humorous city coming together.
This was written for my installation at Canterbury Cathedral as Archbishop. It was commissioned by my mother and stepfather. And it's the first few words of the Rule of St. Benedict, and that's this sixth century founder of the Western monastic movement.
The final bit takes me back to Coventry and it's Benjamin Britton's War Requiem, which was written for the consecration of the new cathedral. And it's just a passionately powerful intersection of the poems of Wilfred Owen with their pacifist commitment and also at the same time the Requiem Mass. And it it's my favorite bit of music in the world.
In conversation
Presenter asks
2:02In terms of managing to carve out any time for yourself, where you are able to be just in a space in your own head without people requiring things of you, do you manage to do that in a week or in a day?
Yes, um when I'm in London or at Canterbury, morning prayer and evening prayer and a midday communion are really really important. Times of silence, when I'm travelling, trying to find a space, you know, during a flight or something, just to be silent in prayer and contemplation, those are really important. And then, of course, days off and holidays are wonderful.
Presenter asks
2:59How do you know when a time of prayer has finished? How do you know when enough is enough?
Do you know? I've never been asked that. I don't think enough is ever enough in prayer, because prayer is about. Engaging with Jesus Christ, us allowing his presence to shape us and to bring what is in us to him, or just to enjoy his presence. There's never enough of that, and certainly not in this job is there ever enough of it. So I don't think I can answer it because I don't think I've got to enough yet.
Presenter asks
The keepsakes
Near the top of the Foreign Office's list of places that Britons should absolutely not go right now is South Sudan. You went there earlier this year. And you were there particularly to do what?
Uh there particularly to meet the Archbishop. South Sudan is essentially very large majority Christians. It was in the civil war and the two sides had just gone for the town. ... Yeah, as soon as we drove off the airstrip there were bodies around and the smell of death, thousands of people had been killed there. And we went to the cathedral where we found the bodies of the cathedral clergy who had been murdered and there was one grave filled in and another one ready to be filled and I was asked to consecrate and bless it.
Presenter asks
13:52That was how it looked on the outside. How did it feel on the inside, dealing with them?
Felt very painful. at times, but I didn't know anything else, so it felt that that's what happens in life, if it's one of the bad bits. Norfolk was wonderful. London was usually a bit complicated.
Presenter asks
19:04And you did experience this moment of conversion. It's a tricky old thing to talk about because it's easy to make it sound rather sort of parallel. In your words, tell me what changed.
Between school and university, I was working in Kenya teaching in a school and I was sharing a house with a practising Christian, someone who read his Bible every day and prayed, and it meant something, and that had a huge impact on me. And after a year of running away from that in my first year at university, at the beginning of the second year. A friend of mine. Asked me along to hear someone talk about Christian faith. And then we went back to his rooms and he explained. The simple thing that on the cross Jesus died so that in some extraordinary way I could know God. And it just made sense. And it brought together all the things I'd heard and experienced. And I prayed and something changed. There was a presence. Christ came into my life, for want of a better phrase. There was someone who knew me better than I knew myself, and who loves me more deeply than anyone, despite knowing absolutely everything about me, including the things I deeply dislike about myself.
Presenter asks
22:44You've said of that experience. We, meaning you and your wife, learnt of the fallibility and the brokenness of the world in a completely new way. Can you explain a little of that?
The sense of uh saying goodbye. It was the day we moved back to England. And I was finishing off some work at the office in Paris. Caroline set off with a friend. Someone else was driving. And they had a car crash. And, you know, it happens to so many families, doesn't it? You know, they get the call. And the police rang up, and we went up and found that Joanna was in hospital and she died five days later. It's just The constant reminder of the uncertainty of life. The only certainty in life is Christ, everything else is contingent.
“Yeah, as soon as we drove off the airstrip there were bodies around and the smell of death, thousands of people had been killed there. And we went to the cathedral where we found the bodies of the cathedral clergy who had been murdered and there was one grave filled in and another one ready to be filled and I was asked to consecrate and bless it.”
“Between school and university, I was working in Kenya teaching in a school and I was sharing a house with a practising Christian, someone who read his Bible every day and prayed, and it meant something, and that had a huge impact on me. And after a year of running away from that in my first year at university, at the beginning of the second year. A friend of mine. Asked me along to hear someone talk about Christian faith. And then we went back to his rooms and he explained. The simple thing that on the cross Jesus died so that in some extraordinary way I could know God. And it just made sense. And it brought together all the things I'd heard and experienced. And I prayed and something changed. There was a presence. Christ came into my life, for want of a better phrase. There was someone who knew me better than I knew myself, and who loves me more deeply than anyone, despite knowing absolutely everything about me, including the things I deeply dislike about myself.”
“The sense of uh saying goodbye. It was the day we moved back to England. And I was finishing off some work at the office in Paris. Caroline set off with a friend. Someone else was driving. And they had a car crash. And, you know, it happens to so many families, doesn't it? You know, they get the call. And the police rang up, and we went up and found that Joanna was in hospital and she died five days later. It's just The constant reminder of the uncertainty of life. The only certainty in life is Christ, everything else is contingent.”
“Oh, totally. And it does that especially if we come across as holier than thou. But when we do that, we have to do it with both the passion of Christ and a deep sense of humility at our own failure and weakness. I cannot speak to people without being aware of my own sin, my own failure, and of the failure of the church. And if I come across as I'm perfect and you're rotten, and so I'm now going to tell you how to be perfect like me, I mean, that is just the most awful way to deal with people.”
“Oh, I still do most of the time. Imposter syndrome is a constant companion.”