Brilliant theologian is swapping the burdens of high office for the academic life

If ever there was a man who must be relieved to give up his present employment, it is Rowan Williams. The beleaguered Archbishop of Canterbury is to step down from his position to become Master of Magdalene College, Cambridge, at the end of this year. I must say I am pleased for him. Dr Williams, possibly the brightest theologian of his generation in the English-speaking world, has been at Canterbury for the past 10 years.

The announcement of his decision to step down as Archbishop of Canterbury was followed by tributes from religious leaders and politicians.

Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks said that Rowan Williams had served the Church with great distinction.

“It has been an honour to work alongside him over the past decade,” he added, “and I consider it a particular privilege to call him not just a valued colleague in faith, but a true friend.”

Even before he was being considered for the top job in the Anglican Communion, Williams had described the Canterbury job as “undo-able” and “a nightmare”.

I have a huge regard for the man as a human being, a religious leader and a theologian.

In conversation some time ago with a prominent theologian working in England, I asked him about Williams. “He’s the most intellectually gifted man to become Arch- bishop of Canterbury since St Anselm,” the good professor replied unequivocally.

Now that is quite a tribute. For those of you who fall into a coma at the mere mention of matters ecclesiastical, let me explain. Anselm ascended to the see of Canterbury in the year 1093. He wasn’t just the Brain of Britain, he was the brain of the known world.

Anselm produced his famous “ontological argument” for the existence of God which still engages philosophers to this day.

It is so complex that I would go into an altered state of consciousness simply trying to explain it to myself, never mind to gentle readers of this edifying column.

It reminds me of the entirely estimable late Rev Iain Mackenzie’s regular – and not to be missed – erudite messages to the Scottish nation in the early hours of New Year’s morning: if you understood it, it meant that you were more than half cut.

Well, even when sober, Rowan Williams understands the ontological argument.

He is an orthodox theologian who has never hidden his radical views. A man of genuine holiness, he once chanted psalms on the runway of a military base as a theological protest against nuclear weapons.

The Welshman is known to be uncomfortable with the trappings of ecclesiastical establishment. Brought up in Swansea – his father, Aneurin, was a mining engineer – young Rowan initially attended the local Presbyterian chapel.

When he was 12, his family moved to a different part of the town, where they attended a high Anglican church.

Williams’s brilliance marked him out as an exceptional talent. In 1986, he was appointed Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity at Oxford at the extraordinarily young age of 36.

His books are characterised by profound theological learning, allied to an acute understanding of the contemporary world. He will quote from St Thomas Aquinas and the Simpsons, St Augustine and Father Ted.

What I like particularly about this entirely un-pompous and unaffected theologian is that he is a genuinely saintly man. The self-deprecating archbishop is no trendy vicar writ large. He gets on with many evangelicals, finding them a corrective to what he calls the “preciousness” of high Anglicanism.

What has made his tenure as Archbishop of Canterbury so difficult has been the issue of Christians in samesex relationships, and the possible ordination of gay clergy. Before he was appointed archbishop, he was on record as being sympathetic to gay Christians, but the issue so divided the 70million-strong Anglican Communion that he has had to spend much of his time firefighting.

A big part of his responsibility was to keep the various factions talking to one another, and he found himself pilloried on all fronts – even while he was much loved by those who encountered him personally.

Commenting on the difficulties of holding together the Anglican Communion, Dr Williams said frankly: “I think that it is a job of immense demands and I would hope that my successor has the constitution of an ox and the skin of a rhinoceros, really.”

A supporter of the ordination of women priests and the consecration of women bishops, this gentle but brave man has known what it is to be on the receiving end of religious vitriol.

Personally, I have found him to be a gracious man. I am biased, I suppose, because he found the time to write a foreword for a book I wrote about a contemplative Catholic monk, Father Roland Walls.

The tributes to him on the announcement of his resignation have been heartfelt.

His wise and generous contribution to public life is going to be much missed.

But freed now from the burdens of high office, the 61-year-old scholar will be able to write much more, and the churches will benefit in new ways.

I salute this good and holy man, and wish him well.