Dr. Fisher's Exit

The Archbishop of Canterbury stood up to open the Convocation of Canterbury one morning last week, and the aging bishops before him, who barely filled a quarter of Westminster Church House Assembly Hall, stared listlessly at the agenda--the revised catechism, an address on science and religion, "Is Suicide a Sin?" But with the Archbishop's first sentence came a fluttering of crimson surplices and white lawn sleeves. After 15 years in the see of St. Augustine, Dr. Geoffrey Francis Fisher, 73, announced his retirement.

"My vigor has not decreased," he said. "I am convinced that day by day my wisdom increases. But I am also satisfied that my stock of patience diminishes, and that is why I think the time has come." He was timing his retirement, he said, to enable his successor to be ready for the Third Assembly of the World Council of Churches in New Delhi next November. He planned to step down in May, and already felt like a schoolboy "getting in sight of the holidays," or a "matador who has decided not to enter the bull ring again."

Unity of Spirit. Matador Fisher is no Manolete. He has not distinguished himself as a brilliant thinker, magnetic speaker or prophetic leader, like his predecessor, Dr. William Temple. His pipe-smoking good humor and gregariousness have made him a delight to get along with ("Quarreling with him is impossible," says one of his canons). He administered the Anglican Church with the same efficiency he once showed as headmaster of Repton, one of Britain's best schools; and his clergy, though woefully underpaid, is better off than when he took office. But he failed to inspire the majority of Anglicans who are only nominal Christians with new or urgent faith, and in his reign England's churches remained largely empty.

Except for two factors, the Fisher reign would be unlikely to ripple the flow of ecclesiastical history. One is his dedication to the ecumenical movement. Once, when the Anglican Assembly was dragging its feet about voting money to the British Council of Churches, he said: "If I had to choose between being Archbishop of Canterbury and president of the British Council of Churches, I'd choose the presidency." He has been one of the most active leaders of the World Council of Churches, and also helped shepherd the pioneering Church of South India into being despite the complicated theological problems of the apostolic succession in a merger of Anglicans, Presbyterians, Congregationalists and Methodists.

The second landmark in Archbishop Fisher's reign is his good-will trip to the orthodox churches of the Middle East and his precedent-shattering visit to the Pope (TIME, Dec. 12). "I pray for an increase in unity of spirit," he had told the congregation of the Anglican Cathedral at Jerusalem, "in the hope that it will pave the way to an even more formal canonical union, which should be the final goal."

Failure of Faith. Dr. Fisher has been one of the least pompous of prelates--after a minor operation in 1939, he played Pack Up Your Troubles and Smoke Gets in Your Eyes on a barrel organ in Chester Market Square to raise funds for the hospital in which he had been treated. He has also been one of the least consistent. He has been more conservative than British public opinion on such issues as racial segregation ("This is not the sort of thing we should get excited and fanatical about") and divorce ("Adultery is becoming such a menace that the time will come when it ought to be made a criminal offense"). On the other hand, he boldly supported the 1957 Wolfenden Report, which recommended, among other things, that homosexuality between two consenting adults should no longer be a criminal offense; he said he would like attempted suicide to be no longer listed as a crime; and he has been one of the most outspoken supporters of birth control and the almost sacred importance of sex in marriage.

Most British papers piously editorialized about Dr. Fisher's "brilliant administrative gifts" and wide influence among "Christians of many allegiances," but the Daily Mirror also stated bluntly that he failed "in conveying the message of Christianity powerfully in this hard and avaricious age." While the valedictories were still being pronounced, the Anglican convocation rustled with rumors about Dr. Fisher's successor, chosen by the Prime Minister and appointed by the Queen. After two days came the word: the new Primate of All England, leader of 40 million Anglicans, religious mentor to the royal family and to Parliament, will be the Most Reverend and Right Honorable Arthur Michael Ramsey, 56, the Archbishop of York (see box).

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