Farewell to Robin

Ladies and gentlemen, it is very good to see so many people here, gathered together in this packed hall to mark Robin’s retirement and to salute his nearly 27 years of distinguished service as Master of the Temple.

And before we eat a morsel, I would like to thank the two Treasurers for laying on this festive dinner – and everyone at the two Inns and, in particular, the catering staff here at Inner for all the hard work which has gone into the evening.

Turning, then to the star of the show:

In the final line of his famous poem and later hymn, Praise (2), (more familiar to us as King of Glory, King of Peace), the Welsh poet and priest, George Herbert, explained: “Ev’n eternity is too short to extol thee.”

And although it seems appropriate to start with words from Herbert’s great collection, called The Temple, you will be both pleased and relieved to hear that I have something very considerably less than eternity allotted to me in order to sing Robin’s praises before we tuck in – in fact just a few minutes. And, of course, I have at my disposal nothing approaching Herbert’s “utmost art”.

Which means that I need to make rapid forward progress but, perhaps appropriately for Robin – a church historian whose job title long pre-dates the existence of the Inns – I would like to start by taking you all back to the year 325 in the Christian era.

Because, as most of you no doubt know, it was on 20 May that year that the Great Council of Nicaea started its deliberations. Which meant that last year marked its 1,700th anniversary.

And on 20 May last year, there took place in the Temple Church one of the most extraordinary of the many remarkable services which have taken place there during Robin’s time as Master – a service held to mark this anniversary with due solemnity.

Robin has an unmatched knowledge of the history of the Temple Church and of its place in the wider history of this country and of the common law.

The service was a simulcast: it took place both here in London and in the Roman Catholic Co-Cathedral in Jerusalem. Two Cardinals took part, as did a Patriarch and an Archbishop, alongside Anglican and Orthodox Bishops. In the ranks of exalted clergy, there were at least two men who answer to ‘Your Beatitude’ with a straight face.

It was a magnificent, an utterly improbable occasion – not least in that the considerable technology required to make the simulcast possible actually worked.

Although, in fairness, perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the whole thing had occurred a few weeks earlier, when the late Pope, His Holiness Pope Francis, sent a long and supportive message of good wishes to all those participating in the service.

As Robin pointed out to me at the time, when passing on the dense paragraph of capitalised English text, he did not often get messages from the Pope. Indeed, I suspect that there had been precious little by way of communication between the Pope and the Master of the Temple for many hundreds of years.

I conjure all this up for you this evening because it seems to me to provide us all with a neat illustration of just what Robin has brought to the Temple Church and to the two Inns he has served for so long.

First, it was an occasion steeped in HISTORY.

Robin has an unmatched knowledge of the history of the Temple Church and of its place in the wider history of this country and of the common law.

Nor does he have an equal in his understanding of the fabric of the building, of its form and architecture. There is, simply, no one with a greater, a deeper appreciation of its many glories.

Robin, the genius of this place, master of liturgy, brilliant preacher and caring pastor, thank you for everything you have done for the Church and for the two Inns and for your most distinguished service.

So, although, as he would be the first to point out, he has only been here for a tiny fraction of the total life of the Church, his life and work have become so intimately entwined with it that many of us have come to think of it and him as one. He is, for most of us, something very like the spirit of the place – the genius loci.

And it is entirely fitting that, after years of discussion, his final months here have seen the start of restoration work on perhaps the finest and most exquisite part of this ancient and beautiful building, namely the West Door archway.

This, as most of you will know, is a project on which he has long set his heart and to which he has contributed so much to bring it finally to fruition. And I am glad to say that he has kindly agreed to edit the book which is being produced to record in lavish detail the restoration.

Returning to the simulcast, it was also a striking example of Robin’s unique gifts as a liturgical impresario and perhaps the most exalted of the many ‘specials’, as he calls them, which he has created and produced over the years in the Church.

He is a master of liturgy and of liturgical innovation, with an acute sense of occasion – able to turn a bold and strikingly inventive hand to celebrations and commemorations and to bring his astonishing energy and enthusiasm to events of all kinds, however unlikely.

But the simulcast was also a perfect illustration of the ecumenical, the liberal and open-hearted approach which he has taken to his work in the Church. All are welcome there – of all faiths and none.

And that approach has been critical in his work because, of course, the Church is the great gathering place of the Temple, where people from both Inns (whether regulars in the pews or not), as well as people from much further afield, can come together to mark the staging posts of their lives – the marriages and baptisms, the confirmations, the funerals and memorial services.

Generations of Inn families have now had him by their side for these great moments – and I know how precious and important that sense of continuity has been for so many. And, like the good pastor he is, he has provided comfort and consolation to people in times of need and in their grief – and he has also rejoiced with so many in times of celebration.

But, as he would point out, it is the CHURCH which abides and will, we must all hope, continue to play its crucial, central part in people’s lives, long after his retirement to Norfolk – indeed long after we have all passed on – as it has for so many generations of lawyers and for hundreds of years.

Returning, finally, to that simulcast once more, Robin’s own speaking part was a small one.

By contrast, however, in the weekly round of services, his has been the inimitable voice which we associate with our liturgy, expressed as it is in the matchless language of the Book of Common Prayer and the King James Bible.

And it is in that context that he has led his congregation and, through his hundreds of sermons, continued to shed light on the fundamentals of faith. He has long abandoned the elevated pulpit, and this is just as well, because I cannot imagine how late period Robin could safely have been confined to that narrow space.

For Robin is a preacher almost constantly on the move. I do not just mean intellectually, although his exceptionally acute intelligence can lead his listeners forward at dizzying speed, but also physically, as he leaves his lectern to illustrate or even enact a point or to make a joke (humour runs like a seam through much of his preaching), his hands in vigorous and unpredictable motion, as the voice swoops high and low and the volume dial is turned from very soft to clarion.

In this, as in every aspect of his work, he has brought to the Mastership his own unique and irreplaceable style, and we have been the fortunate beneficiaries of all its glories over so many years.

So, Robin, the genius of this place, master of liturgy, brilliant preacher and caring pastor, thank you for everything you have done for the Church and for the two Inns and for your most distinguished service.

And now I would like to ask you please to stand and join me in a toast TO ROBIN.

Rory Phillips KC
Chair of the Temple Church Trust

Response by The Master of the Temple

Several years ago, a Treasurer, who had no allegiance of his own to Christendom or the Church, told me that the Church is the beating heart of the Temple. That’s quite a thought.

Rory, thank you. It had never occurred to me that my years here would be marked with such a happy and celebratory occasion, let alone that so many people would be here whose roles are far more important and demanding than mine have ever been.

Treasurers, I am more than touched that the Inns should arrange such an unforgettable dinner, alive with such long and deep friendship. I might find the whole thing rather emotional. Well, here goes.

On the first Sunday in October 1999, I mounted the pulpit of the Temple Church for the first time. I had only one thing to say: Thank you.

Thank you to the Benchers who had chosen me – one of whom is here this evening, – and to the Inns for appointing me, and to those who had already made me welcome and at home.

Thank you to our musicians, who were already elevating every service. (I was slightly embarrassed to be greeted that day with Zadok the Priest. Seemed to be rather overstating my arrival!)

Twenty-seven years have passed. Over half of my adult life. About 3% of the Church’s history. Perhaps that is not so bad.

And again, I have only one thing to say: Thank you.

Thank you now to generations of Benchers and of Treasurers, all of whom have warmed and cheered and supported my life and work here.

Thank you to the Inns, who by their generosity make possible all we do.

Thank you to our present cohort of musicians, who have raised the level of our music to something – within the beauty of the Church – utterly transcendent.

Thank you as well to those behind the scenes: our colleagues in the Church itself; and your own colleagues within the Inns. These, year after year, have been the scaffolding that supports all we do.

There is so much to remember:

Thank you as well to those behind the scenes: our colleagues in the Church itself; and your own colleagues within the Inns. These, year after year, have been the scaffolding that supports all we do.

I will remember the projects that have, I hope, laid foundations for success and engagement through years – and decades – yet to come: the genesis of the Temple Music Foundation; Islam in English Law; the history of the Church itself; Magna Carta and from there the Church’s American friends; schools-outreach in music and civics; and now – at last actually under way! – the restoration of the Round’s Great 12th century Doorway to its proper beauty. (Dan Brown and the Da Vinci Code should be in this list somewhere; but perhaps not, really!)

And I will remember this wonderfully beautiful place: the Church itself, and the whole Temple. Indeed, I will.

But these will be, somehow, peripheral memories. What I will really remember, with immense affection and gratitude, is our calling: to be the living heart of the Temple.

There are the services. We have in my time celebrated over 700 weddings, and 300 Memorials; and the immense care we have taken over the preparation of every one, and over their families. We have lost count of the Baptisms. (I have for some time been baptising the great-grandchildren of those for whom I led a Memorial in my early years.) And with a steady, unerring drumbeat, we have sung our services week by week, year by year.

I will, as well, remember all those – whether or not they, you ever come to our services – whose cheerful wave or ‘Good Morning’ in Church Court, or arrival with visitors, or for another concert, or for the Bar Choral have enlivened every week.

That is, in sum: I will remember you. Without its people, the Temple is a whited sepulchre. With its people, with you, it is a place of life and generosity and belonging: it is a home. And for Tethys and her boys and myself, it has been exactly that: home.

It is hard to imagine a more special place to serve and to live as a minister, than this. And it has been so special, because of yourselves. It is frankly rather overwhelming, that so many of you are here this evening. After 27 years I still have, I really still have, only one thing to say:

Thank you.

Helen, Bernard, Rory, might I ask that everyone stands for a second toast: The Temple Church.

The Rev’d Dr Robin Griffith-Jones
Master of the Temple 1999–2026