THERE ARE MOMENTS when a family is under stress, defending itself against some challenge: these are the times where heroism is called for. There are other moments when the family is celebrating one of its own events: these are the times of peace and joy.

What is true of families is also true of nations and of churches. Last Friday I went to such a celebration at Downside Abbey in Somerset, a beautiful abbey in a beautiful setting.

I do not myself hunger for bells and birettas: I normally prefer a relatively brief service and a somewhat businesslike approach to worship. On Friday the service lasted for two hours before we went to tea at the refectory.

Throughout the two hours the whole congregation was in a mood of calm celebration. Even our youngest granddaughter, who is only 18 months old, maintained a Buddha-like state of contemplation, though she may have nodded off once or twice. The two hours proved to be a delight throughout.

The service was the installation and blessing of Downside’s new abbot, Dom Aidan Bellenger, by the Bishop of Clifton, the Right Reverend Declan Lang. I was there because the new abbot is the parish priest at Stratton-on-the-Fosse, where I usually go to church. The ancient village has been a settlement since Roman times. My wife, Gillian, is a governor of the Downside School: two of our children went there. On Friday the abbey was full, with families, friends, visitors, the school itself, and visiting clergy of more than one denomination. The outgoing abbot, Dom Richard Yeo, was also present to play his part in the installation of his successor. He leaves Downside in a much stronger situation than he found it.

Abbeys are not immune to the cyclical nature of all human institutions. Certainly schools are not. One of the reforms of Dom Richard’s period has been the introduction of girls to the school, which has raised the already high quality of the choir.

The service consisted of the Litany of the Saints, the blessing of the abbot and a High Mass. The blessing centred on the presentation of the Rule of Saint Benedict, a document of great wisdom. It has significance for me. When I became the Editor of The Times, in 1967 I first read the Rule of Saint Benedict, and was struck by the responsibility it puts on the abbot for the care of his monastic brethren. He is answerable for them.

I saw a certain parallel between the duties of an abbot and those of an editor. One should not make too much of that, but it has been a great satisfaction to watch the many distinguished careers of journalists who started on The Times of that period.

The bishop asked the new abbot a number of questions “on matters concerning his office and of the qualities he brings to it”. Most were spiritual questions: “Will you teach your brothers by sound doctrine and by the good example of your own deeds rather than by mere words?” One at least is a practical question: “Will you be faithful in watching over the goods of your monastery and prudent in using them for the benefit of your brothers, of the poor, and of the strangers at your gate?” Editors also have to work to budgets.

The whole installation was an occasion of high quality. I have heard sufficient of the new abbot’s homilies to know that he would be human, illuminating and brief. He was. The Bishop of Clifton was also very good. But it was the mood of the congregation that struck me most. I suppose it is not surprising that some hundreds of Roman Catholics, in a neo-Gothic abbey of great beauty, should respond as a community, as a family of families. But the unity of that response went beyond what one could have expected. The congregation as a whole was in tune.

We felt happy to be present, we felt lucky to be joined in a Christian community, we felt at ease with our Christian commitment. There was no feeling of exclusivity. The Anglicans present did not feel that they were shut out. It was an occasion of celebration and of welcome.

The majority of this congregation consisted of the students at Downside School, of an age and build that ranged from those who are still really children to young men who looked more like 25-year-olds than the teenagers they must still be. Downside is noted for rugby football, and rugby players can come on the large side. The academic performance of the school has been rising, but Downside does not exist simply to pass exams: both the abbey and the school exist to show people the way to Heaven.

That is their function, and in my experience the school does often frame a Christian mind in a Christian soul.

A single Christian life brings benefit to contemporary society and to later generations. Britain is immensely fortunate to be a Christian country. When people talk of compassion, concern for one’s neighbour, for family, liberty and justice, they are talking about Christian values passed down in British history. The monastic life and teaching have been agencies for these values. So, of course, have the Church of England and the Nonconformist churches.

When we remember Cardinal Basil Hume, who had been the Abbot of Ampleforth, we should also remember William Temple, the wartime Archbishop of Canterbury, and John Wesley, the founder of Methodism. All were Christian teachers.

The Anglican Archbishop of York, Dr John Sentamu, has delivered a rallying call for Christians to speak out for their faith. He points to the subtle erosion that tries to push Christianity out of public affairs. As he says, the modern view is: “Let other cultures be allowed to express themselves but do not let the majority culture at all tell us its glories.”

Downside and York belong to different denominations, but both hold out the comfort and the glory of the Christian truth. Christian teaching gives value and life to human society; education without religion does not.

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