The flying bishop
It’s a non-stop journey for the priest whose parish stretches from Cyprus across the Middle East and takes in one of the world’s most dangerous communities
It is hard to believe that in April 2007 Clive Handford, Anglican Bishop of Cyprus and President Bishop of the Episocopal Church in Jerusalem, will retire at the age of 70. He seems much younger, brimming with energy and intelligence. There is no typical 24 hours for this flying bishop, he is continually “on the road”; there are no two days the same. He is, he says, “a conservative liberal”, not afraid to speak his mind, a man of clear and strong views. In 2003 he wrote about the Iraq war: “together with countless people around the world, we in the Middle East have been urging that war is not the solution to the situation in Iraq. Our hearts are deeply saddened, therefore, that war has broken out. The concern of people throughout this region now is for a swift resolution of this conflict with minimal damage and loss of life.” He does not agree the church should not involve itself in politics as politics are integral to ideas and life.
Iraq still occupies many of his thoughts today. He is actively helping to raise money to support St. George’s church in Baghdad, recently described as “one of the most dangerous churches in the world”. Currently, it has a congregation of about 900. Last year the lay preacher leaders were killed. War in Iraq worried Clive because he believed it would polarise divisions between the world of Islam and Christianity. Divisions that he is trying to break down, divisions he believes are not to do with faith but with tribalism. “Religion,” he argues, is used as”an easy label for political and social groupings”. There is, he says, a difference between religion and faith. One is a man-made structure, the other is the internal dialogue with God through which his word is revealed.
That dialogue with God is with him all the time. He doesn’t see prayer as a necessarily formal activity. It can happen anywhere: a silent conversation. He prays all day. He says he learnt to pray “on the hoof” in the RAF. Prayer, he also feels, is something that can be misused. “It’s not magic”. It should not be selfish about wants, but about God’s will. He tells a tale of two Christians going to Jerusalem who decided to pray for a better room in the hotel than they had last time, not one with a view of the car park. Trivialising important issues is something he abhors.
This is why he has strong views on such issues as sex outside marriage and the ordination of gay clergy, believing in the sanctity of love and marriage. He should know, he has been married to Jane for 44 years. Marriage he says, “has to be worked at, but it’s well worth it.”
His parish is huge, stretching from Kyrenia to Kuwait, Abu Dhabi to Aden. He tries to visit his parishioners at least twice a year, where increasingly the congregations in the Gulf states are not well-heeled ex-pats in oil industry but migrant workers from the Indian sub-continent. He is delighted that the churches can be used to bring communities together. Holy Trinity in Dubai will have up to 35,000 Christians of all different nationalities and denominations using its facilities, from Egyptian Coptic Orthodox to Filipino Pentecosts.
Clive still enjoys giving the sermon. The best, he says, are based on readings from the Bible, interpreting the word of God in the contemporary world. He likes the intellectual challenge of revealing the message of the scriptures. Those issues he knows we have to tackle are about identity and poverty. It angers him that aid too often has a price tag attached to it. He says he is “cautiously optimistic” about the future. As for his own retirement, it will bring a chance to bird watch and book browse, his two favourite activities. He says his worst vice is that he cannot leave a bookshop empty handed and has piles of books waiting to be read.
How does his day end? “Well I love a drink,” he laughs, “especially a single malt!” He then proceeds with enthusiam to recommend a few of his favourites: Springbank and Caol Ila. His day will end as it always does with Jane and God. They pray together and read in bed. He’s a happy man, and complex one. Faith is not something static: he tells me a story of a little boy falling out of bed. When his parents asked what happened he says. “I fell asleep too close to where I got in”. That is a danger, says Clive, never settle with your faith, always question, always move on. He seems to be living his life like that, a non-stop journey. The flying bishop.
