Stephen was standing tall

IN the 12-or-so years of its improbable existence, the column has joined the folk of St Paul's from Hunwick to Hartlepool, but never before at St Paul's Cathedral. Thursday was the big one, as it were, and the sun shone upon righteous and unrighteous alike.

It was the consecration as Bishop of Ramsbury of Stephen Conway, the 6ft 6in Archdeacon of Durham and former Vicar of Cockerton, Darlington, the man who'd been to Rome to buy his new vestments at the episcopal equivalent of Long Tall Sally.

It may not be said, of course, that Stephen was pre-ordained to high office but we recall, several years before he became an archdeacon, asking another Durham diocesan parish priest who'd be the next bishop among his contemporaries.

"Oh, Stephen Cownay beyond doubt," he said - a cleric clearly head and shoulders above the rest. He'd been impressive as an archdeacon, too. There are parish clergy who thought they might never say a good word about holders of that venerable office - who, so the Whispering Gallery has it, have even known previous incumbents as arch-demon - who now call down blessings upon Stephen Conway.

He stands just an inch shorter than Mr Peter Crouch, England's World Cup centre forward. Some suggest that the new bishop is rather better at using his loaf. Exactly a week previously, the great cathedral had been the venue for a service to mark the Queen's 80th birthday, Mr Rhodri Morgan - leader of the Welsh Assembly - roundly castigated for taking his seat just a minute before the start. There are those said to have been upset, if not necessarily upstaged.

Anxious not to make the same mistake as black Rhodri, we arrived more than an hour early, Canon Jon Bell - the Bishop of Durham's senior chaplain - already looking anxious on St Paul's steps.

The bishop was in a mini-cab, the mini-cab was in a jam. "Looking anxious is part of the job description," said Canon Bell.

St Paul's underground station disgorged dozens of dog collars, an incorrigible reminder of the escalator poster which claimed that 75 per cent of Britain's clergymen took The Times, beneath which someone had scrawled the addendum that the other 25 per cent bought it.

Purple shirted, the bishop-designate strolled up as if straight from the number 22 bus. Advised that they might only enter if attending the consecration, disappointed tourists pointed cameras at the pigeons.

"You mean there's a service on?" someone said, the unspoken sub-script "and it's not even Sunday." It was also St Alban's day, the feast of the first English martyr.The campaign to make him our patron saint is led, unsurprisingly, from that Hertfordshire city, and deserves to succeed.

BISHOP Stephen, as now he is, was born in Brixton, the first of his family to go to university. He obtained degrees at both Oxford and Cambridge, became a Christian at Oxford, knew fairly soon that he wanted to be a priest.

"At first I thought it was just the romance of a fresh faith, but it wouldn't go away," he said afterwards. "Before that I'd had no thought of becoming a priest, let alone a bishop. It's amazing what God does with you."

His 20-year ministry has all been in Durham diocese, beginning in Heworth, Gateshead, where the affectionately remembered "Auntie Doris" greeted him enthusiastically. "Forty four curates haven't killed me so I don't suppose the 45th will," she said.

He'd loved the honesty, that folk told him when the sermon wasn't much good. "When I met the people in Salisbury diocese I said how much I admired North-East outspokenness and asked if they were the same," he said. "They said they weren't sure."

The heavier of Thursday's papers had been full of yet greater schism within the Anglican Communion, the latest and potentially widest rift in America.

St Paul's Cathedral, the heart of that worldwide communion, remained a spiritual sanctuary, a symbol of continuity, a place of coruscating chorals and of worship done well.

The congregation was greeted by morning coated stewards apparently known as wandsmen, and if not exactly magic wandsmen then certainly uncommonly civil.

Canon Bell went around the large Durham contingent with a card for the new bishop; since not even Clinton's sell "Happy new diocese" cards, it simply said "Good luck."

The Archbishop of Canterbury presided, prayed (as well he might) of a single communion of faith and love, united in each place and time with the Church in every place and time.

If anxiousness were part of the chaplain's job description, the new bishop seemed to have even more to worry about - a tall order, were he to have been just five foot in his socks.

He was charged, among much else, with being diligent in prayer and in reading the scriptures, with leading the people in proclaiming the gospel, with teaching the doctrine, promoting peace and reconciliation, being gentle and merciful, exercising authority with justice, courtesy and love and with making his home a place of hospitality and welcome.

Will you, will you, will you? "By the grace of God," he answered every time, "I will."

Canon Alma Servant, an old friend, delivered the address.

"Though the church deplores the culture of celebrity, we have celebrities of our own, called bishops," she said. "To many people he will be a holy celebrity, if he isn't already. How can you keep your feet on the ground and your eyes on heaven?"

Eyes lowered, he was anointed by the archbishop, maybe 20 other bishops joining in the hands-on experience.

Afterwards the Bishop of Durham, Dr Tom Wright, talked of how the diocese loved Stephen to bits and how they'd bought him a pretty big cope and mitre for his new office. "Since it would take two strong men to carry them," said Bishop Tom, "he'll have to have them later."

Afterwards, as the bells of St Paul's pealed across the old city, long queues formed to wish him well, each well-wisher greeted with a great bear hug and with the enthusiasm, the spontaneity and the surprise of a child opening his Christmas stocking.

Ramsbury's in Wiltshire, a village of just 1,800 people.

The diocese of Salisbury, in which Stephen will have the responsibilities of a suffragan bishop, has 850,000 people.

"I had the usual feelings of unworthiness. I thought at first they must have got the wrong man," said the new bishop. "With God, absolutely anything seems possible."