The Revd Dr Andrew Davison writes:
THE Revd Dr John Hughes, who was killed in a car accident on 29
June, aged 35, was a leading theologian of his generation. In the
words of the Revd Graham Ward, Regius Professor of Divinity at
Oxford, "John possessed a dazzling quick sense of fun and a
generous, penetrating intelligence. His work dances with
intellectual agility, always saying something distinct and
theologically profound." John's death has left the Church poorer
both in heart and mind. He is survived by his parents, Hywel and
Janet.
John was born on St Lucy's Day - he considered the secular
calendar to be a poor stand-in for the liturgical calendar - and
grew up near Exeter. He retained profound affection for Devon his
life through, as also for Wales, his family home. He went to school
in Dawlish, and obtained a first in theology at Jesus College,
Cambridge, followed by an M.St. at Merton College, Oxford.
He worked on his Ph.D., back in Cambridge, at Emmanuel College,
with Dr Catherine Pickstock. It was published as The End of
Work: Theological critiques of capitalism, considered by
Professor John Milbank to be "the best study we have on the topic
of work, for seeing that work is itself sacramental and
contemplative, and for getting the work-leisure relation right".
During this time, he also trained for the ministry at Westcott
House, and was ordained deacon in 2005, and priest a year
later.
After his curacy, back in Exeter, John returned to Cambridge, to
be the chaplain of Jesus College. Two years later, he was appointed
as Dean and elected to a fellowship. He was a scintillating
teacher, and his publications routinely appeared in the best
academic journals, but chaplaincy always had first place among his
duties. He did it in the spirit of all that he respected - even
adored - in the parish system: he was at the heart of the college
community and, in him, the Church could hardly have been more
embedded and incarnate. Then, precisely in that commitment to being
present, he was able to point to God as the origin and destiny of
all life and of all being. (A metaphysician to his fingertips, he
was unafraid of terms such as "being".) The fragile were comforted;
the faith of lukewarm Christians was enkindled; those outside the
Church entered it; vocations to the ministry flourished.
Because of that outlook, he despaired of nothing as much as he
despaired of the Church of England, for its present ambivalence
towards the parish as the bedrock for mission, and towards the
liturgy as its backbone. He had committed himself to Christianity
after discovering the Book of Common Prayer and the works of
Richard Hooker. Yet, in truth, he rarely despaired for long, even
at the Church of England, which he loved so profoundly, since he
was always inclined to see things in view of the resurrection.
Both at Jesus College, and more widely, John lived for others,
and yet it would be a mistake to suppose that living "for others"
bore for him any chilly overtone of sacrifice or self-abnegation.
For him, to live for others was first and foremost to live with
others. He died on his way back from an ordination, on his way to a
first mass: one of many ordinations and several first masses this
Petertide. He would travel any distance for a baptism, a
confirmation, a marriage, or a funeral - or for a party, for that
matter.
His least favourite work of theology was Nygren's Eros and
Agape, with its proposal that the highest love is
disinterested, and gives without receiving in return. He preferred
the Thomist vision of agape, or charity, as comprehending every
other form of love. John's enthusiasm for women, for one thing, as
a sort of mystical wonder, was not lost on anyone who knew him
well.
It should be admitted that John was not good at being wrong,
perhaps because - to be fair - it was an unusual experience for
him. Friends remember a long, but friendly, disagreement about some
scientific subject or other. Eventually the person he was putting
right gently pointed out that he, unlike John, had a doctorate
quite close to the topic in question. That said, John's strength of
will was easily borne, given his profound gift for fun and
friendship. He dispensed wine freely (always sparkling in the
octave of Easter); he danced at the slightest provocation; he
remained, in many ways, a child at heart, and got on famously with
his godchildren; around him, people laughed.
John was one of the outstanding scholar-priests of his
generation, as devout as he was learned. Untold numbers of people
looked to John as part of the hope for the Church. Already, they
recognised, a certain intellectual renaissance in Anglo-Catholicism
was taking shape around him - and not just intellectual. John, for
one thing, had recognised almost before anyone else the
significance of the theological revival that was later to be called
Radical Orthodoxy, and he was scarcely less important in that
movement than its instigators. In the intellectual life, as much as
anywhere else, he valued collegiality.
As an academic theologian, John's interest and ability spread
both wide and deep. He taught doctrine, ethics, and metaphysics at
Cambridge, but beyond the university his most significant influence
was coming to be in "public" or "political" theology. David Ford,
Regius Professor at Cambridge, singles this out: John was "becoming
a leading voice in Christian social thought". He had contributed,
for instance, to the forthcoming col-lection Anglican Social
Theology: Renewing the vision today, edited by Malcolm Brown.
Two publishers were courting him for a volume of his own on
Anglican social thought: one for a highbrow monograph, and the
other for a popular introduction.
The last word might go to Professor Ward: "What we have of his
theological work will remain; it is what we don't have that we
mourn for. That, and his elfin smile."