The last occasion on which I heard Robert Runcie speak in public was in support of an appeal for another Abbey, St Albans. There had been some muddle about who, precisely, was to speak and Robert modestly suggested that he was a mere substitute and he told a story about Archbishop Donald Coggan. Archbishop Coggan had been invited to a garden party with the promise of a strawberry and cream tea. When approaching the gate, however, in common with the other guests, he was handed a note which read, "owing to the unseasonable unavailability of strawberries, prunes will be served".
That's how I feel now. Robert Runcie was himself the master of the memorial address and I suspect that only he could have done justice to such a rich life.
Typically, however, he was also modestly dubious about this occasion and wondered whether it would really be necessary. In the event, the Abbey has not been able to hold the numbers of people who have applied for tickets. The diversity of those of us who have assembled this morning testifies to Robert Runcie's gift for friendship and the breadth of his sympathies and interests. We profess or are agnostic about many faiths. We come from many countries, from every part of the Christian Church, and from the provinces of the Anglican Communion. But we come not as formal representatives but drawn by a sense of personal; friendship for a man who was and is greatly beloved.
I can see him in my mind's eye now, a relaxed style of delivery giving no hint of the meticulous preparation and hard work which went into his public addresses. He had a great respect for the word and had a good ear for which words were still potent and usable and which had become decrepit. He also had a penetrating intellect and could spot the flaws in arguments so readily that it made the process of composing public statements very laborious but his gifts were perhaps most obvious in the thousands of personal letters of sympathy and encouragement which he wrote in his own hand.
This was hidden work and there was much about his deepest convictions which was also hidden. As with so many of his generation, wartime service was formative. He did not often refer to those years but the death of a comrade and the revelations, at Belsen, of the dark side of human nature played a large part in pushing him towards ordination as a priest. First hand experience of the horror of the Shoah also gave him a lifelong commitment to Christian-Jewish relations. He was part of a generation of priests marked by the war who believed that the Christian community still had the potential to change the world.
In the years following, he worked hard, in Gosforth, back in Cambridge and at Cuddesdon, anxious not to let people down. At the same time, he also had a pronounced competitive streak which came out in his convictions for speeding on the Stevenage by-pass while he was Bishop of St Albans. He made the sports pages of the Daily Mirror and he became the hero of the churchwardens of the Diocese.
The role of Archbishop of Canterbury is very frequently frustrating. The Archbishop is mistakenly compared by the world with a Managing Director and blamed for every conceivable failure in the Church but when he attempts to bring about some change and seize the levers he finds that there are no connecting rods. Archbishops lead by setting a style which can be deeply influential but often does not translate easily into a list of achievements.
This is a generation of seekers, who are sceptical of ecclesiastical claims to have all the answers and who demand seriousness about the mystery and the paradoxes of life and suffering. As we have heard from Robert Runcie's enthronement sermon it was his talent and ambition to communicate with such people.
The Soul of Britain survey commissioned by the BBC records the familiar fact that the credibility of all institutions including the churches continues to decline. At the same time, however, the numbers of people admitting to significant personal spiritual experiences has greatly increased over the past decade. Under half the sample answering similar questions, in 1989, could point to significant experiences of the spiritual realm. By 2000, this figure was over three quarters of those questioned. One of the most frequent tributes to Robert as a bishop is that whatever the doubts and questions of the person he was with, he was able to meet them where they were without judging them or preaching at them.
He was a very contemporary Christian leader in another respect. The Church of England had a central part in the 19th century version of Our Island Story. The end of Empire, a more cosmopolitan British population and our participation in a wired up world presents a challenge to the nature of British identity and also to the identity of the Church of England. Robert made a contribution to developing a new identity in a process which has perhaps only just begun. He was a wonderful ambassador and made connections which have borne rich fruit.
The equation of Catholic and alien was a part of the old story. The way in which the Pope was received at Canterbury in 1982 was an important milestone in honouring the Roman Catholic strand in our story.
Robert had first met the Pope in Africa at the start of his Archi-episcopate. The encounter was to take place in Accra in Ghana. Robert briefed Cardinal Hume about what was planned by telephone. The Cardinal was enthusiastic but finally asked "but Robert there's one thing I do not understand, why is it necessary to meet the Pope in a car."
The Canterbury service was the very first time in the history West that the Pope had participated in the worship of a non Roman Catholic Church and pace certain recent commentators, John Paul II certainly behaved as if he were visiting a sister Church. Pope and Archbishop stood side by side before Augustine's chair where a book of the Gospels was enthroned, the very book sent by Pope Gregory the Great to the first Archbishop of Canterbury.
A little later in connection with the 500th anniversary of the birth of Martin Luther, Robert as Archbishop visited Germany and the work he did was a major stimulus for the Meissen Conversations and Agreement which followed. The former Bishop of Berlin is present with us today.
Through a demanding programme of visits to the churches of the Anglican communion he encouraged Anglicans towards a new inclusive and confident identity by personal friendship and by telling the story of the connection between Canterbury and the Communion in a way that defused any suspicion of English condescension.
His stamina was remarkable. After a month in Nigeria in the hottest time of the year just before the rains, his aides, Terry Waite and the Chaplain were exhausted but the Archbishop was still valiantly working through his programme. We reached Kano and the Archbishop of Nigeria indicated a TV camera and said to Cantuar, Pray for rain. He did so. That afternoon the heavens opened and our Muslim driver said, You'll be remembered in Kano.
Making new connections and embracing a more cosmopolitan identity was work which continued to very end of Robert's earthly life. A fortnight ago the Oxford Companion to Christian thought was published, edited by the distinguished Roman Catholic scholar Adrian Hastings. It contains an article by Robert Runcie on Canterbury. Typically the author admits that the city is "a comparatively modest urban centre in Kent" but he goes on to place Canterbury in a more cosmopolitan history with mentions of previous Greek and Italian Archbishops, the architecture of the French Gothic and the French Protestant congregation which has worshipped in the crypt since the sixteenth century. In the article, as throughout his ministry, he remembers in a way that establishes a new inclusive identity and reaffirms Canterbury's place in the effort to heal the "historic divisions of Christianity".
He has been accused of course of being too inclusive and emollient and in a famous phrase of firmly nailing his colours to the fence. Sometimes that is the right place for colours, to give Time the chance to outflank polemics. Refusal to get down into the trenches can give the community a chance to live through difficulties without being atomised.
But where a firm stand was necessary, the Archbishop spoke out for Christian conscience. In the Falklands Service in St Paul's his note was Christian and penitent rather than triumphalist, as some desired. He was also attacked for his role in the publication of the Faith in the City report on deprivation in inner city areas. What was rubbished then as "Marxist" is now accepted wisdom. But typically the report was not just a demand that the government or someone else should do something, it was a challenge to the church. The report led to the establishment of the Church Urban Fund which is still doing creative work in the inner cities and it also changed lives. One priest said to me, "It gave me a new sense of pride in being a part of the Church of England".
St Augustine of Hippo in his pithy way described the Christian community at its best. In certis, unitas. In dubiis, libertas. Et in omnibus caritas. In the fundamentals of faith there must be unity. In disputable matters there must be freedom for debate. But in everything there must be love.
Robert's convictions formed and tested in struggle were deep, though hidden behind a veil of reticence. In worship these deep springs were refreshed. It is particularly appropriate that the choir will very soon sing the creed from the Russian Orthodox tradition which appealed to Robert so much. There were bedrock certainties which gave him the strength not merely to tolerate but encourage differences of opinion among those with whom he chose to work.
In certis unitas, in dubiis libertas but the most lasting thing is love. Family life was not without its occasional tempests but Lindy, James and Rebecca and now a wider family were and are united in love. Robert was a man greatly beloved by a huge circle of friends.
In the last years, after Robert had laid down the burden of office this element in his life was distilled out. Many people once they have lost the trappings of status and visible power, shrink. Robert, by contrast, seemed to shake off a role that had become constricting. He became more himself. The playfulness of earlier years revived. His sympathies continued to enlarge. He made no secret of his from cancer, but far from becoming self obsessed, there are people here who can testify that his ability to encourage others who were locked in the same battle, increased.
We believe that what has turned to love in our lives will never perish. St Paul said, Though our outward man perish yet the inward man is renewed day by day. [2Corinthians IV,16]. We miss him, his friendship and his humour but in the midst of the tears we can in the word which rings through the first lesson - rejoice.