The end of the chapter

He shares his memories with Sarah Foster.

LIKE many of his generation, Dr John Arnold learned his first lessons in life from the hardships imposed by the Second World War. In his case, they were made all the more forceful by his upbringing in a working-class family in the midst of the bombing in east London.

A bright child, he got his "big break" at the age of nine, when he won a scholarship to the prestigious Christ's Hospital, better known as the Blue Coat School. His education was completed during two years in the Army and seven at Cambridge University, where he studied French, German and Russian, then took a second degree in theology.

Looking back on the eve of his retirement, later this month, when he will go on three months' study leave before settling in as a supporting clergyman in Canterbury, he recognises that this time shaped the course of his destiny. "I had the best education you could have," he says. "Even when I was in the Army, I spent most of the time being trained."

As the threat of war with the Soviet Union loomed large, the bright young Dr Arnold was singled out for training as a Russian interpreter. He prides himself on the fact that he has never had to use the language for a military purpose, but, as he became increasingly involved in trying to forge links between the world's churches, it was to prove a useful asset.

It was while he was at a work camp in the ruins of East Berlin that he was struck by his vocation. "I found myself administering communion to former enemies and it became clear to me that this was the most important thing in the world, and that I would give the rest of my life to it," he says.

Sitting in the ancient splendour of Durham Cathedral's deanery, which he must soon vacate, he can feel safe in the knowledge that he is living up to his avowed intent.

Seen from a career point of view, the 68-year-old's achievements have been great. His CV would rival that of any world statesman, with references to his involvement in the Meissen Common Statement, cementing the Church of England's relationship with the German Protestant churches; and the Porvoo agreement with the Scandinavian, Nordic and Baltic churches.

While he has every right to be proud of his success, he tells me without a trace of boasting that he has never applied for a job in his life. In fact, I get the impression that the then Archbishop of Canterbury, Robert Runcie, had to virtually twist his arm to persuade him to become the Dean of Durham Cathedral. Having spent 12 happy years as the dean of Rochester, starting as the youngest person ever to occupy the post, he was understandably reluctant to leave. But when the archbishop revealed he coveted the job himself, the deal was done.

As he describes some of his fondest memories of the past 13 years, it is clear that he feels he made the right decision. He speaks warmly of the 900th anniversary of the cathedral's foundation stones being laid, in 1993; a speech made by the then hardly-known Tony Blair to mark the retirement of Bishop David Jenkins, in 1994; and the Millennium celebrations.

He is particularly animated as he remembers the cathedral as being a focal point for the whole region at the new Millennium's dawning. "There are occasions when all the churches feel that they want to be together, and take for granted that the place is Durham Cathedral," he says. "Thousands of people came here on Millennium eve. It was the only service in my time at the cathedral that's started late because it took so long to get people in."

During his time as dean, Dr Arnold has placed a strong emphasis on encouraging people to feel that the cathedral belongs to them, which he believes is helped by the region's natural pride in it. But at a time of increasing apathy towards religion, I wonder if the cathedral's status as a beautiful, historic building will be enough to sustain it in years to come. Dr Arnold is unwavering in his conviction that it will go from strength to strength. "Religion may not be trendy but it's durable," he says.

"The Church of England is attracting more people. The tide has turned - not very dramatically, but more people are attending church. I'm not worried about the future of the cathedral - the building alone has survived for more than 900 years. I've got very good colleagues and they will keep things going, and we can expect a new dean early in the New Year."

Dr Arnold believes that while some of the reasons for the cathedral's enduring popularity are beyond its control, part of the credit should be given to its open-house policy, along with its willingness to engage with the community.

He says: "More than 600,000 people a year come here, and we have a very big outreach programme with schools and the university. Large numbers of school parties visit the cathedral and that's work which we want to develop. We also sustain a considerable musical life, and we want the ability to share it with others, for example the new music centre in Gateshead."

While Dr Arnold acknowledges that all this will cost money, he would rather rely on trusts, donors and the public - and hopes that the notoriously reticent public will be a bit more generous - than contemplate introducing an entrance fee. "I hope that fees won't have to be introduced," he says. "We've resisted them in Durham, and I like that way of going about things best."

Having accumulated a string of accolades during his lifetime, including, this summer, an honorary doctorate of divinity from Durham University, Dr Arnold is used to looking back and having others look back on his achievements. So early on in our conversation, he neatly categorises his life under three headings - being a priest, his academic work and the ecumenical movement.

I would add a fourth - being a husband and father. Dr Arnold speaks of his children, Frances, 38, Matthew, 37, and Miriam, 30, with evident pride and affection, and admits that without the support of his German wife Anneliese, he could never have pursued his career. He says: "The two best decisions I took were to get ordained and to get married."

For a man who has reached such lofty heights in the church - the deanery walls are like a Who's Who of religion and politics, with Dr Arnold pictured next to everyone - he is both surprisingly humble and refreshingly modern in his views. He speaks of the pleasure he has in meeting all types of people - from statesmen to former miners - and his view of the church's place in people's lives rings true.

He says: "We have to provide what people want, which isn't necessarily what they think they want. We are not offering what they want in a commercial sense, we are offering what the human heart wants, even if it doesn't know that's what it wants."

As he leaves for a new life in Canterbury, it can only be hoped that Dr Arnold's energy and beliefs will remain entrenched in the hearts and minds of those left to continue his work.