What led such a conventional left-wing professor to suppose that he was equal to the task of acting on a global stage? In 2002, when Tony Blair appointed Dr Williams, even conservatives such as Charles Moore greeted him as “prophetic”. The favoured alternative was Bishop Michael Nazir-Ali of Rochester: a man no less intelligent but far more tough-minded, with first-hand knowledge and experience of the Muslim world and the ability to articulate the dangers posed by radical Islam. Dr Williams was on the liberal, Dr Nazir-Ali on the traditionalist side of the bitter disputes within the Anglican Communion over women and homosexuality. Church unity seemed the most important issue facing Anglicans at the time, but with hindsight it mattered much less than the then emergent threat to Western civilisation. It is a tragedy that Mr Blair felt obliged to appoint a man to lead the Church of England who had plenty of charisma but lacked the charismatic gift of wisdom.
Augustine of Hippo was hard on those, including himself, whose pride blinded them to their limitations. He only achieved maturity as a writer after coming to realise that his intellectual gifts were of no account compared to the vocation to which God was calling him. What, then, of the spiritual journey of Dr Williams? He has yet to write his Confessions, but it is hard to imagine him wrestling with his conscience. Whatever spiritual depths may be concealed behind the obscurity of his prose, he has not hinted at repentance for any sins, either of commission or omission, during his archiepiscopate. Augustine taught us to love the sinner and hate the sin, yet Dr Williams finds it hard to condemn either. Long before Pope Francis, he made a virtue of refusing to be judgmental. Embracing the zeitgeist in this way does not absolve him of the sin of intellectual pride. Giving up academic life, he wrote: “I was being asked to leave behind an environment where I could feel more pleased with myself than bishops normally can.” Now that he has returned to his comfort zone as Master of Magdalene, is Rowan Williams still pleased with himself?
Augustine of Hippo was hard on those, including himself, whose pride blinded them to their limitations. He only achieved maturity as a writer after coming to realise that his intellectual gifts were of no account compared to the vocation to which God was calling him. What, then, of the spiritual journey of Dr Williams? He has yet to write his Confessions, but it is hard to imagine him wrestling with his conscience. Whatever spiritual depths may be concealed behind the obscurity of his prose, he has not hinted at repentance for any sins, either of commission or omission, during his archiepiscopate. Augustine taught us to love the sinner and hate the sin, yet Dr Williams finds it hard to condemn either. Long before Pope Francis, he made a virtue of refusing to be judgmental. Embracing the zeitgeist in this way does not absolve him of the sin of intellectual pride. Giving up academic life, he wrote: “I was being asked to leave behind an environment where I could feel more pleased with myself than bishops normally can.” Now that he has returned to his comfort zone as Master of Magdalene, is Rowan Williams still pleased with himself?
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