Friday, Jun. 23, 1967
Preacher for the Empire's Parish
The dean of St. Paul's Cathedral in London--"the parish church of the British Empire"--has traditionally been a preacher of scholarship and fire. Humanist John Colet, who held the post from 1505 to 1519, was the learned friend of Erasmus and More. John Donne, during the reign of James I, uttered sermons from St. Paul's pulpit that will ring in human ears as long as the bell tolls for mankind. From 1911 to 1934, Anglicanism's most prestigious preaching office was occupied by "the Gloomy Dean," William Ralph Inge, who outraged England with his then radical opinions on birth control and pacificism.
Accordingly, when the Very Rev. Walter R. Matthews, 85, recently announced his retirement as dean of St. Paul's, Anglican insiders were betting that Prime Minister Harold Wilson would probably follow tradition, name either one of two outspoken ecclesiastical controversialists to the post: Ban-the-Bomb Canon Lewis John Collins of the cathedral, or Ardent Left-winger Edward Carpenter, Archdeacon of Westminster. Instead, Congregationalist Wilson surprised almost everyone by naming a dean who is relatively unknown outside church circles: the Ven. Martin Gloster Sullivan, 57, who as Archdeacon of London since 1963 has been responsible for the supervision of the diocese's 60 parishes.
The first New Zealander ever named to a major office in the Church of England, Sullivan served-as an Army chaplain during World War II. As Archdeacon of London, he read the Biblical lesson at the state funeral of Sir Winston Churchill. Sullivan was surprised by his promotion. "Does this mean he's naming me?" he asked his wife when Wilson's letter of appointment came in the mail this month.
Ten Rounds with Cassius. In his new post, Sullivan is required by tradition to deliver the principal sermon at St. Paul's services on six feast days of the church calendar--but in effect he be comes year-round pulpit spokesman for Anglicanism's most famous cathedral. Theologically and politically, Sullivan considers himself a middle-of-the-roader on the plausible ground that "the middle of the road means where the road is." A knowledgeable theologian, he feels that such avant-garde Anglicans as Bishop John A. T. Robinson (Honest to God) have gone too far and too fast for the church's faithful. "The ordinary man in the pew," he says, "reminds me of someone who has been ten rounds in the ring with Cassius Clay. He's been faced by the new theology, the new morality, church reunion, liturgical reform. I think the church is in danger of leaving him in the lurch." Sullivan considers his new post "a sort of Eisenhower job as chairman of a team"; as a preacher, he presumably intends to see that none of the team members are left behind.
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