Archbishop, At Home

"For he thought, 'I may appease him with the present that goes ahead of me, and afterwards I shall see his face; perhaps he will accept me'." Genesis 32: 21

Archbishop Rowan Williams introduces his ‘joint declaration’ with the Chief Rabbis from Israel, with an extended meditation on the nature of ‘critical friendship’. This is what happens, as he puts it, when one party “challenges and engages” the other in an environment of “mutual respect” and “appreciation” and “genuine exchange”. Some people just call this friendship.

The microphone is then passed to Chief Rabbi Yonah Metzger, the head of the Ashkenazi community in Israel, who is sitting to the Archbishop’s left. Rabbi Metzger arches his eyebrows in quizzical amusement. He stands up. He begins speaking in English, telling us he is going to switch to Hebrew. He switches to Hebrew and then immediately engages the interpreter in a debate over the accuracy of his translation. He is clearly enjoying himself.

He says that this is not only a first in terms of the meeting between the Chief Rabbis of Israel and the Anglican Communion, but also, in its way, between the Rabbis themselves. Never before, in fact, have they flown together on the same plane. Nervous laughter ripples through the hall at Lambeth Palace. Rabbi Metzger looks pleased with his work.

He then tells us how, each day, Jews cover their head and their right arm with 'Tifillin', to remember that their commitment to God is both one of thought, of the intellect, as well as one of action. This ‘joint declaration’ with the Archbishop is made in the same spirit. The idea of friendship will be translated into action, he hopes. And for the Archbishop too? Will he intervene, for example, to assist and mediate for Israeli prisoners of war? Rowan Williams looks as though someone has just shackled his own feet under the table.

But the ‘joint declaration’ is duly signed; a priest-usher, watching from stage left, claps vigorously and we all start applauding. Rabbi Metzger then hands the Archbishop a neatly wrapped present, the size of a small brick, which has been resting throughout the proceedings in front of him. This seems to take the Archbishop a little by surprise, however. Unwrapping presents in public is always, maybe, a little awkward.

Another priest-minder steps forward, this time from stage right, to help. Ripping the tissue paper away with great enthusiasm, he reveals a bible, in a case. He removes the bible from its case and hands it to the Archbishop. Above them all, four bewigged 18th Century prelates, Archbishop Williams’ predecessors, look down on the assembled company like slightly disapproving school governors at the annual prize giving. The Rabbis are having a great time.

Rowan Williams then reaches under the table and produces two identical coloured prints of Lambeth Palace of the sort you can pick up a couple of miles down river at Bermondsey Market. He fans them out in his hands, so that we can all see, and offers them to the visiting Israelis as “souvenirs” of their visit to London. Will they find their way into the rabbinical loo, I wonder? Is this really a "genuine exchange", the 'Chumash' for a print of the Archbishop's Gate House, albeit authenticated no doubt as a ‘one hundred year old antique’?

Before you can say ‘critical friendship’ we have all been chivvied to the back of the hall and are busy slurping little files of kosher Gazpacho and exchanging business cards. I am left feeling rather disappointed. What is it about this sort of ‘interfaith dialogue’ that causes us Anglicans to loose our humour and become a scrutiny panel from the Standards Board for England?