The Hinge of Time

A MILLENNIUM LECTURE GIVEN BY THE ARCHBISHOP
OF CANTERBURY AT THE BLACKHEATH CONCERT HALLS

‘THE HINGE OF TIME’

May I say how delighted I am to be here, close
to what has become known increasingly over recent months as ‘The Home of
Time’. You have given me a much warmer welcome than Archbishop Alphege
received in Greenwich when he was a guest of the occupying powers! You may know
that he was imprisoned by the Danes who, seeing the prize they had, demanded
£3000 for his release. Alphege refused to let his people pay that
extortionate amount and was beaten to death by mutton bones on Easter Day 1012.
I was enthroned in Canterbury Cathedral on his feast day in 1991. However you
may be sure that while I may be following in his footsteps I have absolutely no
intention of sharing his fate!

Greenwich, of course, has been of enormous
significance both for British and for World history – and for a combination of
reasons. Henry VIII was born in its Royal Palace as were Queen Mary and Queen
Elizabeth I. Edward VI died there. That remarkable architect Inigo Jones was
commissioned by James I to build a grand house – the Queen’s House – for
Anne of Denmark, though it was Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I, who enjoyed
the full fruits of those labours. William and Mary built a hospital for
disabled seamen, and Admiral Nelson’s body lay there in state following
the battle of Trafalgar.

But it is probably fair to say that it is the
connection of Greenwich with time that represents its most enduring claim to
fame. That connection began in the 17^th Century, with the
Observatory created by Royal Warrant in 1675, and grew steadily. In 1871 the
First Geographical Congress meeting at Antwerp agreed that, within fifteen
years, Greenwich should be adopted internationally as the common zero for
longitude. In 1880 GMT was adopted as legal time for Britain and in 1884, ahead
of schedule, at the international Meridian Conference in Washington, DC, the
Prime Meridian was established at Greenwich – making the north-south line at
Greenwich the reference for all other meridians of longitude.

Of course, Greenwich is no longer the quiet
‘green village’ that it was, though Blackheath and the Royal Park
remain the envy of many Londoners; the royal court is no longer here; the Royal
Hospital and Naval College have gone; and alas, the astronomers are no longer
here, moving, as they did, first to Herstmonceux Castle in search of clearer
skies, and in 1990 relocating to the Institute of Astronomy in Cambridge.

But the links remain. The Observatory still
stands proudly overlooking the Thames and it was entirely appropriate for the
Dome to be built here. Even though GMT has been supplanted officially by
something called „universal time“ Greenwich remains for most of us ‘The
Home of Time’.

However, as students of the New Testament will
know ‘chronological time’ is not the only way to understand time.
‘Chronos’, the noun used to describe linear time, from which words
like chronology derive, points to the passing of time. Shakespeare says in
Macbeth: ‘Come what come may, time and the hour run through the roughest
day’. Something, that in the hectic world of the late twentieth century we
know all too well.

But of greater importance to the New Testament
writers was the significance of time and they used a different word to
describe it. For them the word ‘kairos’ pointed to ‘time
interpreted’. As one theologian put it: ‘‘kairos’ time has
to do with a definite point of time which has a fixed content’. Or, as
another has said: ‘Kairos moments are turning points in history which
demand specific existential decisions.’

And from personal experience we have glimpses of
what this means. Think of that day you were married, the time you passed that
examination, that job interview which went so well – or so badly. And we tend
to associate such moments, ‘pregnant with meaning’, with places: the
church where we were married; the university where we graduated; that wonderful
sunset when we were on holiday.

This very day we commemorate the destruction of
the Berlin Wall which came to symbolise the collapse of communism in Eastern
Europe. November 9^th 1989 was, quintessentially, a
‘kairos’ moment. It will always be remembered and celebrated as
ushering in a new time in world history; it heralded the end of the Cold
War.

But for Christians the ‘kairos’ moment
above all others is the coming of Christ into the world. For us this is what
the Millennium is about. Not a mere passing of ‘chronological’ time
but a commemoration of THE moment of time which interprets the whole of time.
As St. Paul says: ‘Now is the acceptable time, now is the day of
salvation’.

So, you see, the Millennium is not merely about
the measurement of time but is also very much about the meaning
of time. And it has taken some people some time to understand this! I recall
speaking to a prominent person some years ago about the Millennium. He was
totally behind the idea to build the Dome. But when I and others were insisting
on the centrality of Christianity in the celebrations he was genuinely puzzled.
‘Why should religion be involved at all?’ he asked. I tried another
approach. ‘Why are you going to great lengths to spend so many millions of
pounds on this site?’ ‘Because it commemorates an anniversary. It
signifies the passing from one millennium to another,’ he replied.
‘But’ I asked, ‘what happened 2000 years ago to give that year
such significance?’ ‘Oh, I see what you mean’ came the awkward
reply. He was assessing the Millennium purely in ‘Greenwich’ terms,
that is, in terms of the measurement of time. I was measuring it in terms of
‘Bethlehem-time’, that is, in terms of the gift of Christ to the
world and all that he continues to mean for us today.

And that is why I have entitled this address
‘The Hinge of Time’. The division between B.C. and A.D. expresses the
fact that, at a particular point in the past, something so momentous happened
that the calendar was changed to acknowledge it. Momentous not least because
‘Bethlehem Time’ as I have called it, defies the bleak secularist
verdict that this life is all; that our time must be given up to making life as
pleasurable, as profitable and as easy as possible – before the oblivion
of death swallows us all up.

So how, from the perspective of Bethlehem time
should we respond to the approach of the third millennium? I suggest that as
churches and as a society it offers us a Time for Celebration and a Time for
Sharing.

First, it is a time for Celebration.

It is not necessary for me to remind those of us
gathered here of the significance of Christ for our world. Christianity has
shaped our history and our culture, and I am glad that the Faith Zone in the
Dome will play its part in reminding people of this heritage. And it’s not
just our past – institutions of all kinds – hospitals, schools, universities
and orphanages – speak of Christ’s continuing impact on our lives.

In his name men and women of every age and race
have preached his gospel and died for his cause. Many have lived heroic lives
and have left behind them works of immense social value. In this country
charities and organisations like Oxfam, Christian Aid, Tear Fund, the
Samaritans, Help the Aged, St John Ambulance, Dr Barnados, the Children’s
Society, the RSPCA, NSPCC, the Probation Service and the Hospice Movement have
been profoundly influenced by Christian principles or founded by inspirational
Christian men and women.

Abroad, I think of the enormous impact of the
Christian faith throughout the world. There is scarcely a place in Sub-Saharan
Africa, for example, where the Christian faith has not made a significant
difference for ordinary people. Time and again when I have visited there I have
been struck by the commitment of the Churches to such things as education,
health care and agricultural and development projects. As Pope John Paul II
said, during his last visit to that great Continent: ‘Jesus Christ is the
unmistakable proof of God’s love for humanity… the good news is Jesus
Christ’. For the person of our Lord is the good news we bring to all
people. He offers everyone the possibility of a new beginning with God the
creator – that is the church’s message and it is something to rejoice
in.

But it is also a message to the church! It is a
message to wake up to the God who confronts us with hope. I am delighted that
next year so many churches will be celebrating Pentecost in a fresh way.
Indeed, I am looking forward to taking part in an open-air service beside the
Dome that morning and I look forward to seeing many of you there.

One of the things that I suggest we use the
coming months to do is to consider carefully the challenge to be less religious
and more Christian. There is a danger, if we become too focussed on keeping the
institutional life of the Church healthy, maintaining our services, looking
after our buildings – that we may lack sufficient energy to go out from our
churches into our communities. Rather, following the example of our Lord, the
Millennium will provide new impetus to reach out. To know Christ and to make
him known is to adopt for ourselves a world view, a philosophy of life, which
takes us well beyond the formalities of religion. By espousing the Christian
faith we unite with a God who loves his creation and who wants all to join him
in the task of regeneration. That is what I mean by urging us to be ‘less
religious and more Christian’.

Much, of course, is happening already, often in
ecumenical and community partnerships, in our inner cities. That is something,
I believe, we should rejoice in as we seek to develop it further. I think in
this context of the fine work of the Church Urban Fund, making a difference in
so many marginalised communities. I think too of the wonderful contribution of
Christians – as individuals and groups – among the homeless, those seeking
refuge, the troubled young and the elderly in need.

So tonight, I want to sound a clarion call to
all Christians of all denominations to celebrate our privilege of following
Jesus Christ; to rejoice in the difference he makes to all who follow him; and
then to go out to serve him.

For just as we have much to celebrate, so
also we have much to share. Celebrating and sharing, the Millennium
means both. Let me focus now on the sharing.

i) We must share the challenge of building a
better society. As I have already said the contribution of the Christian
faith is indelibly printed into our history, culture, civic life and laws. That
imprint must not fade.

Over one hundred years ago, one of my
predecessors – Archibald Tait – warned his society of the dangers of
drifting away from the Christian faith. He wrote: ‘I hold that any school
of philosophy which dogmatically asserts that man has no soul, and that there
is no God, saps the very foundation of morality’.. He was quite right then
and some of the bloody genocides of this century have proved him correct.
Likewise Francis Fukuyama in his most recent book The Great Disruption
acknowledges the importance of religion to the maintenance of moral values. He
argues – quite properly in my opinion – that religion is not the only
guardian of moral values. But he also underlines that its contribution to what
he calls ‘social capital’ is very great. Looking to the future, he
writes: ‘Instead of community arising as a by-product of rigid belief,
people will come to belief because of their desire for community. In other
words, people will return to religious tradition not necessarily because they
accept the truth of revelation, but precisely because the absence of community
and the transience of social ties in the secular world make them hungry for
ritual and cultural tradition’.

It is an interesting thought and one we should
ponder as we seek to assess what it is that we have to share with the world.
For the use of the term ‘social capital’, so popular now in
sociological writing, actually points to something churches and other religious
communities have always been offering. That is to say, the power of
association, friendship and belonging.

In our faith we have stressed too the importance
of family life; that the union of husband and wife and their children is not
merely one form of family life but the ideal of family life. Let me quote
Fukuyama again: ‘It is not clear that there is a good substitute for
reproduction outside nuclear families and this in turn explains why changes in
family structure have been so consequential for social capital’(38). He
goes on to explain that fostering the healthy social capital of any community
depends upon the health of all those bonds which transcend individualism; love
and loyalty to the family; friendship and bonding in church life and the many
associations which form community. And these vigorous forms of community
living, he argues, form strong defensive barriers against crime, vandalism and
racism by increasing the social capital of virtues like honesty, goodness,
kindness and respect.

Now, of course, not all intimate associations
increase social capital. There are families which are destructive. Equally
there are others where the ties of kinship are so strong that they work against
the community. The Mafia is a case in point where the code of honour and trust
(omerta) stops at the family. Outside, you trust no one else. But these are
distortions of a pattern for life which, at heart, is positive. We as churches
should do all we can to sustain this kind of sharing for the greater good of
our society.

Likewise, of course, there are those selfish
associations of people that do nothing except for themselves and diminish
rather than increase the stock of social capital. Even some churches have
fallen into that trap at times. But, at our best we are open communities,
reaching out into the world; eager to be growing families, eager to embrace and
include. William Temple was correct to describe the church as the ‘only
organisation that exists for the benefit of those who are not its
members’. That is to say we are essentially missionary bodies; eager to
share our life, witness to our beliefs and to be available to all.

ii) Along with this view of the Christian
life goes another kind of sharing: a shared commitment to a just world.

Tomorrow I shall fly to Washington to join the
President of the World Bank in a common aim: we are seeking to find new ways of
bringing together world religions and global financial authorities in the cause
of international development. It is an exciting and unique initiative. No
Christian, indeed, no caring person of whatever faith or none, can be casual
about a world in which there are such inequalities. 1.3 billion people live on
under one dollar a day; 3 billion people live on under two dollars a day. I
referred earlier to Africa: well, in that continent you will find two thirds of
the world’s 33 million cases of HIV/AIDS. In Africa too 1.5 billion people
lack access to safe water and 2.4 million children die each year of water-borne
diseases.

These figures are simply appalling and it is not
enough for us to get concerned when suddenly another catastrophe is shown on
our television screens. That is why the cancellation of unpayable debt has been
taken up by the churches in such a powerful way. Jubilee 2000 has been very
effective in drawing attention to the vast discrepancies between third and
first worlds.

But cancellation of debt must also be part of a
wider goal; to reduce abject world poverty by 50% by 2015. That will be
difficult to achieve, but not impossible. Just as reducing illiteracy,
empowering women and offering people the basics of dignity and hope are not
impossible. Here let me pay tribute both to the Chancellor and to the Secretary
of State for International Development who have helped to keep these issues
alive on the world’s agenda. They, in their turn, have underlined the
significant contribution of the Churches and other faith communities.

But justice is not solely a matter for
international concern. We seek a just society at home too. And justice demands
that we seek to put right anything that challenges the principle of equality,
whether in the eyes of the law, or in the way we treat each other. The Lawrence
Inquiry revealed the shocking truth about institutionalised racism in so many
communities. It is not only the Police Force which must look at itself but all
of us. I am pleased to see too that some of the Mayor’s Charity is going
towards projects which will promote racial harmony. There is an agenda here for
us all.

iii) Next, I believe that, as Christians, we
should share our faith in young people and with young people. I
rejoice at the emphasis you are giving to young people here in Blackheath and
Greenwich. Greenwich Nightstop and Greenwich Beta are encouraging initiatives
among younger people. Too many are sleeping rough in our cities and towns; too
many young men cannot get work; too many children still go to school hungry.
The answer is not charity or a return to the Victorian Workhouse but a genuine
sharing of resources, with all of us offering from the social capital I spoke
of earlier.

In church life too we must strive even harder to
focus on children and young people and make them a focus for our endeavours.
Earlier this year I shared in a marvellous youth event called ‘Time of Our
Lives’. It brought together 4000 young people from our dioceses in a
week-end Celebration of faith. A number said to me how good it was to have
their concerns heard at that weekend and to feel valued rather than merely
tolerated. It showed me yet again the idealism, faith and hope of young people.
I believe we need a new contract with our young people. We need to say to them:
‘You matter to us because you matter to God. Let us work together and find
new ways of serving one another’. The consequences of such a contract will
be significant, and even at times difficult. It will mean putting resources
into youth activity. For instance in General Synod next week there will be a
motion asking the Church to back a new Youth Evangelism Fund.

But it will also mean doing more to include
young people and their styles of worship in our Churches. It will mean closer
co-operation in all kinds of ways. Christianity began as a young people’s
revolution. Jesus embraced the young and said: ‘Of such is the kingdom of
heaven’. We dare not do less at the dawn of the new Millennium.

iv) Finally, a key area to share is the joint
stewardship of the environment. This is a beautiful but fragile planet and
the Bible – from Genesis to Revelation – has a strong doctrine of environmental
and ecological concern. Perhaps at times we have focused so much on the
salvation of souls that we have tended to ignore the rich teaching of
scripture: this world is important; it is a gift of a generous God and we are
his stewards. As Christians once again we have much to share.

In my experience it is often children who show
most insight and display greatest concern about our fragile home. I go into
many schools and find there strong and passionate evidence of their care for
nature. Children, more than most, are aware of the damage we are causing to
nature through pollution, global warming and the galloping over-consumption of
our natural resources.

There is both challenge and opportunity here. I
recall that just two years ago when I was in Adelaide I visited an ecological
project which was the shared enterprise of an Anglican church, the local
council and the local community. The Church needed a new car park and they
combined this project with one which was designed to save water. Something
which is very necessary in the driest state of the driest continent on earth.
Thus a wholly unique environmentally friendly car park was designed, born out
of a real sense of environmental stewardship.

And that I believe is a gospel concern. The
picture of our Lord which emerges from the gospels is of a person who was
interested in the whole of life. He came from a rural community and knew all
about the birds of the air, the flowers of the field and the animals with which
he shared his surroundings. He was not the caricature that the novelist Nabokov
described as ‘a blond bearded faddist in a towelling robe’ but one
who got dirt under his finger nails through sawing wood and laying bricks. He
was someone who loved life. And so should we. We are all called to rejoice in
God’s creation; to care for it tenderly and to respect it. After all, there are
challenges enough. Just a few weeks ago a child born in Sarajevo took the
world’s population over the six billion mark. In 15 years’ time, we
are told, it will leap to 8 billion. By 2030 the world’s population will
have doubled. We in the first world will have to learn to live more simply so
that others may simply live.

So, a Time to Celebrate and a Time to Share.

The Millennium does present us all with a
wonderful opportunity. I, for one, am not daunted by the prospect. Greenwich,
the home of time, is a reminder of ‘chronos’ and of what the hymn
puts so well: ‘Time like an ever rolling streams bears all its sons
away’. But ‘kairos’, Bethlehem time, reminds us of the
faithfulness of God which is new every morning and which inspires us to new
endeavours and possibilities.

Some years ago I heard the story of a philosophy
lecturer at the Gregorian University in Rome. He liked to begin his lectures
for new students in a dramatic way. In the middle of the huge expanse of
blackboard he would put a clear, small white chalk dot. Then he would turn to
his students and say fiercely: ‘That dot represents all that we know about
God, Christ and the Christian revelation and the blackness represents all we
don’t know’. Then with dramatic effect he would say ‘What we
know then is precious little!’ Then he would pause and say gently and with
total conviction: ‘But what we know – is precious’. And so it
is. That small white dot – the coming of Christ into our world, the hinge
of time – irradiates the darkness and in spite of what we don’t know,
assures us that ‘all is well, and all manner of things shall be
well’.