This is the sixth in a series of posts: for the whole set, start with part 1

On Friday I travelled with the Archbishop of York’s team. One of the things he has a real gift for is planting fresh hope and vision in people’s hearts. It’s hard to put your finger on quite how he does it, but you always feel more energetic and purposeful after spending some time with him. He never pretends to understand the detail of a situation, but he seems to have the capacity to climb into other peoples shoes and get the feel for what encouragement they need to help them flourish.

The day began with him addressing a meeting of Chaplains in Higher Education. Chaplains of various faiths had travelled from all over the region to take part in this half-day meeting. The Archbishop set the scene by calling all of us not to cave in to the pressure to become social workers or health and welfare providers by any other name. “Do not forget your calling,” he said. “None of you started out to be social workers. If that’s what you wanted you could have become a social worker! But the world of education needs Chaplains too. So don’t be ashamed of your calling.”

I was driving back from the Chaplaincy event with Archbishop Sentamu and his team.  The evening before he had asked for news of my son. Now he asked about him again. “I am a little concerned about your boy,” he said, “I would like to see him before I leave Cambridge. Can we go to his school and make a visit?” So we made a detour, and stopped at the school. The Head teacher was slightly startled as this small but determined man announced himself as the Archibishop of York, and requested that my son be brought from his class for a personal audience. A few minutes later, the Archbishop was chatting with my son, asking him a little about life and school, and dropping some wonderful confidence-building words into the conversation. They exchanged their favourite jokes, and the Archbishop asked him whether he remembered his baptism. Then they sat down to say some prayers together. In the space of ten minutes my son seemed to have grown two inches taller. He’s been telling the Archbishop’s joke ever since.

Not two weeks earlier this man had been discussing world-scale politics with names that are never out of the headlines. In the last twenty-four hours he and the Archbishop of Canterbury had visited an immigration centre, a homelessness project, and several world-changing research projects at two Universities.  But a ten-year-old boy in need of some personal encouragement is just as important to the Archbishop. It’s one thing to say that in the eyes of God, a ten-year-old boy is just as important as a President. It’s another to actually make a detour to visit him. This wasn’t a symbolic act for dramatic effect; there was no-one watching, and if I hadn’t told you here, no-one would ever have known. It speaks of the unpretentiousness of the Archbishop, but it speaks volumes more about the God we worship. 

to be continued…