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Memoriam Homilies

Requiescant in Pace

phoca_thumb_l_kinnoullgravesFor our brothers who have gone to God before us, we thank the Lord for their lives and ministry and pray that they might truly know God's eternal presence and peace. May they rest in peace and rise in glory.

 

Eternal rest, grant unto them them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace!
Amen.

 

 

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord;

Lord Hear my voice!

Let you ears be attentive

to the voice of pleading.

If you O Lord mark our guilt

Lord who would survive?

But with you is forgiveness

and for this we revere you.

I trust in the Lord;

My soul trusts in his word

My soul waits for the Lord

More than the watchman for daybreak

As the watchman awaits for the daybreak

Let Israel await for the Lord

For with the Lord is kindness

and with him is plentiful redemption;

And he will redeem Israel

from all their inquities.

PSALM 130

Homily preached at Fr Jimmy Smale CSsR's funeral...

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Preacher Fr Timothy Buckley C.Ss.R

 

Both Fr Andrew and I first met Jimmy Smale here at Bishop Eton during the Easter Week of 1960. The occasion was a Redemptorist vocations meeting for boys from all over the United Kingdom. Two years later we were to be in his company again. The occasion was the same – an Easter Week vocations meeting – but this time it was during our visit to the seminary at Hawkstone Park that we encountered Jimmy, now a professed member of the Redemptorist family and proudly clothed in his habit. Three years later we would be with him at Hawkstone as fellow students and thereafter our lives have been interwoven, until I had the privilege of being with him as he breathed his last in the early hours of the Monday, 20th of this month, the transferred feast of St Joseph, the patron of a happy death. James deserved a happy death, and after all the struggles with his health in the past few years, those final hours were extraordinarily and unexpectedly peaceful.

Homily preached at Fr Tony Hunt CSsR's funeral...

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Preacher, Fr Andrew Burns C.Ss.R

One of the great buzzwords of the church today is Synodality. Over the last couple of years in parishes and dioceses, nationally and internationally, we have been talking about Synodality.

We are preparing for a great meeting of bishops in Rome over the next couple of years on the subject of Synodality, so what is it? Synodality is a way of describing how we, as disciples of Jesus, walk the road together.

Homily preached at Fr Michael Creech CSsR's funeral...

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Preacher, Fr Tim Buckly C.Ss.R

“The life and death of each of us has its influence on others,” St Paul tells us, and he is particularly concerned that we reflect on how profoundly significant this is for us as Christians. There is no doubt that Michael Creech’s life and death have had a profound influence for good on an enormous number of people. And this gives me the opportunity on behalf of the Redemptorist family to thank Mother Kathleen and the community at the Oval for your loving care of Michael during those last weeks of his life and for being by his side as he died. These last couple of years have been difficult for him as his health suddenly deteriorated. True to form he struggled to keep going, even managing to add an extra section to the Eucharistic Prayer the last time I was with him in the chapel at St Peter’s a few weeks ago!

Homily preached at Fr Gabriel Maguire CSsR funeral...

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Preacher, Rt Rev Ralph Heskett CSsR, Bishop of Hallam

 

As you might imagine the readings today are full of hope and promise as they look to a future life. The purpose for the writer of the Book of Wisdom is to address some of the difficult issues of the day and offer his readers hope.  In particular, he struggles with the question: How is it that the wicked seem to prosper and the just suffer?  His conclusion is that although the just seem to have died they are really alive with God. They have pleased God, so God has loved them, They have been taken up and “grace and mercy await the chosen of the Lord.” 

Jesus also offers his listeners hope filled words, too.  He promises that he will never drive away those given to him by the Father because he only does the Father’s will.  He mentions two things as the Father’s Will, firstly, that “I should not lose anything of what the Father gave to me” and second, ‘that I should raise it up on the last day.’ In these words, Jesus reveals to us the Father’s love and his own wish to draw us to share in his relationship with the Father and for ever.

It is the hope expressed in today’s readings that gathers us around Gabby in prayer for the last time today. They express his hope, too, -a hope he shared with others – often on an occasion such as this.  Today we pray that it will be for  Gabby a hope fulfilled and a promised kept and that with St Paul, he now possesses the crown of righteousness reserved for him.

Gabby’s early years were spent in the family home in Swanlinbar County Cavan along with his parents and siblings, Ann, Des, Benedict and Gerard.

HOMILY FOR THE FUNERAL OF FATHER KEVIN CALLAGHAN CSsR

BISHOP ETON, MONDAY 13 DECEMBER 2021 at NOON

By Fr Tim Buckley C.Ss.R

Fr KevinIt is always a great privilege to be asked to share some thoughts at the funeral of one of our confrères. Fr Maurice O’Mahony and I will share this reflection with you because in later years he and Fr Kevin were a huge support to each other at Hawkstone, albeit that Kevin was then moving into his eighties.

I was a boy of 14 when I first met Father Kevin Callaghan in 1961. He had replaced Fr Frank Goodall as Vocations Director and he would help nurture my vocation until the day I went to the novitiate in 1964, during that time bringing me twice to Bishop Eton and once to Erdington for the vocation meetings in Easter Week.

This was my first real encounter with a Yorkshireman. You need to know that I had been brought up to be wary of anyone who lived north of Watford. Being keen on cricket I soon became aware that among Surrey’s main rivals were Yorkshire and Lancashire, and I will always remember my father explaining to me that Yorkshiremen tended to be blunt and uncompromising, while Lancastrians had a gentler side to them. Now, far be it from me to suggest that Kevin perfectly fitted my father’s description, but there is no doubt that he was a strong, determined and no-nonsense character. I should add immediately that he became a great friend of my family and right to the end stayed in close touch with my sister, Anne. Indeed, before he left for hospital on that fateful Monday, two weeks ago today, he assured me that he had just received a message of goodwill from Anne, for which he was obviously very grateful.

He joined the Congregation from school – the famous St Bede’s in Bradford – was professed in 1952 and ordained in 1958. He spent his early years preaching missions and retreats. His gifts for leadership were soon recognised and by the mid-1960s he was being appointed to the role of Rector and Parish Priest in Sunderland, to be followed by a six-year term here at Bishop Eton in the 1970s. Becoming Provincial in 1980, he was to be re-elected throughout that decade. Then, graciously he agreed to join Fr Ronnie McAinsh in Zimbabwe and help build up our mission there. The fruits of that work are evident even on the sanctuary today. He returned to take the reins again in Clapham, before those final years of ministry in Hawkstone until the pastoral centre closed in 2016. And so he came back to Bishop Eton, and although officially retired, he was an integral part of our community, playing his part at every level, including the life of the parish. When you listened to his homilies you realised that he was imbued with a deep faith in Christ. You sensed that, like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, he had walked with Christ and grasped the message. He had the wonderful gift of relating the Gospel to everyday life simply and succinctly. Our prayer is that he was ready to inherit the promise, so powerfully expressed in Isaiah, of sitting at the eternal banquet where God has promised to wait on us.

He was blessed with much common sense and was a kind of rock in the community on which we could always rely, tempering his home truths with more than a smattering of humour. I think it is fair to say that he was a man of his time and was never particularly at ease with the modern spirituality which encourages us to get in touch with our feelings. However, that is not to say that he did not care. He was a loyal friend and I know from my own experience and from talking to others, including parishioners who remember his ministry in this parish back in the 1970s, how much they appreciated his support in times of difficulty and sadness.

And finally, Kevin, like almost all Redemptorists, was a fiercely independent man, ultimately proved by his ability to master a very temperamental electric wheelchair in those last few weeks of his life. Oh, and by the way, before I hand over to Maurice, I must tell you that, to my amazement, I discovered, after he died, that Kevin was not a Yorkshireman after all, having been born in Nelson and only moving across the Pennines when he was a child. No matter, he always claimed to be from Bradford, and whether he was a Lancastrian or a Yorkshireman, he will be sorely missed.

Homily preached at Fr Jack Clancy C.Ss.R's funeral

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Preacher Fr Michael Creech C.Ss.R

Like many people priests come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Fr Jack was no exception.  I was tempted to preach walking up and down the aisle as he did on the few occaisions he celebrated publicly.

Fr Jack had two goes at being a Redemptorist. He first entered the Perth novitiate in the mid-fifties, straight from military service. So, he did not need to endure the drastic haircut that was part of entering novitiate life. Unfortunately, family responsibility called him back to his home in Dundee, but after a year or two he returned and went through the twelve month novitiate again. Perhaps I should mention he came from a Franciscan parish In Dundee and his brother became a Franciscan dying a few years ago in Edinburgh. He then transferred to Hawkstone in Shropshire, our former house of studies before ordination in 1963.

His early priesthood days were spent in Erdington Abbey, Birmingham, in our junior seminary. When the idea of a junior seminary was abandoned he returned to Hawkstone to be part of the team in the newly formed pastoral centre for ongoing formation and spiritual renewal. His lecturing ministry did not last long and he then had a short spell in South Africa, that at that time was part of our Province.

Homily at Fr Martin Gay CSsR Funeral...

Read the wonderful homily preached by Fr Andrew Burns CSsR

at Fr Martin's funeral funeral.

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Homily Fr Brian Russell CSsR RIP...

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Homily at the Funeral Mass of 

Fr Brian Russell CSsR RIP

23rd March 2021

Preacher - Bishop Ralph Heskett CSsR

The short reading from the prophet Isaiah that we heard a few moments ago is one of the readings that hear most frequently at gatherings such as this. I guess it is not difficult to know why. It is full of promise. In particular, it speaks of two promises that the Lord makes through the prophet that we put our hope in today as we gather around Brian in prayer for the last time. The first is the promise of a new world order where we will be recipients of the generous and gracious hospitality of our God and sit at table with him. 

On this mountain, the Lord of hosts will prepare for all peoples a banquet of rich food. 

Secondly it speaks of a future where the long curse of death has been defeated. Death will be no more. 

He will remove the mourning veil covering all peoples .... he will destroy death forever. 

Br Thomas Lavery CSsR RIP Funeral Homily...

 

Vivat in aeternum Br Thomas.

FUNERAL OF FR BARRIE O’TOOLE, CSsR (82 YRS)...

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BISHOP ETON, TUESDAY 21 MAY 2019 at NOON

HOMILY - preached by Fr Timothy Buckley CSsR - Parish Priest

I first met Fr Barrie O’Toole on the evening of Monday, October 18th 1965. Andrew Burns and I were two of the seven newly professed students who had made their way from the novitiate in Perth to Hawkstone Hall, then our Redemptorist seminary. The tradition was that each of the new students was placed in the tender care of a senior student – his guardian angel. As luck would have it, Barrie had been deputed to look after me. I recall that even at the age of 29 his distinguished mop of hair was more white than grey. I do not recall much about this initiation process beyond the fact that on that first evening, when he had shown me to my room, he looked around and said something along the lines of: “you poor thing – I couldn’t possibly face starting here all over again!”

In fact Barrie was to prove a delightful confrère and life-long friend. He was ordained the following January and went to Rome to study Church History. A few years later he returned to teach at Hawkstone and I worked with him, catechising some of the children on the RAF station at Shawbury, where he was the chaplain. Until the last nine years that was the only time we were ever attached to the same community, but I enjoyed working with him on many occasions, including a memorable mission in Tudhoe and Spennymoor back in the spring of 1977.

Barrie enjoyed a rich and varied life as a Redemptorist priest. He coped with the transition of the students from Hawkstone to Canterbury in 1973 and was the first rector of that new student community. He moved from there to Hawkstone, where he built on the foundations laid by Jim McManus and helped to develop the Pastoral Centre into a place of international renown. During his fifty-three years of priesthood he had spells as a missioner and a retreat giver, two years in Brazil and three in Zimbabwe. He was part of two new experimental mission communities, one at Kiln Green near Reading and the other in Middlesbrough. His last years were spent here in Liverpool, where his cheerful and compassionate ministry was greatly appreciated.

Homily preached at Fr John Milcz's funeral...

 

FUNERAL HOMILY FOR FR. JAN MILCZ, CSsR

BISHOP ETON, WEDNESDAY 11 JULY 2018 at NOON

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“As a man lives, so shall he die” is a phrase that will resonate with all Redemptorists of a certain vintage: the vintage mainly represented on the sanctuary today. These were the words at the beginning of one of those classic mission sermons that, as students, we were expected to learn by heart and use to hone our skills as preachers. No doubt Fr Jan himself, as a young man, proclaimed them to the assembled brethren at one of those mission academies in Hawkstone back in the 1960s. Of course, these sermons were all designed to stir the so-called lapsed and wayward to mend their ways, but today I would like you to reflect that those words – as a man lives so shall he die – can very aptly be applied in the best possible way to this good and holy man. Jan died a very peaceful death in the Marie Curie Hospice on Tuesday evening last week. When I saw him for the last time on the Sunday morning before I left for Hampshire there was a wonderful serenity about him. In the final weeks of his life, I have rarely met anyone who so continually expressed his gratitude for any little kindness. This natural courtesy was much appreciated by the staff at Marie Curie as well as the carers and nurses who tended to him in the monastery and the staff at Christopher Grange, where he spent a short time a few weeks ago. To them all and to our own wonderful resident team, we, as a Redemptorist family are immensely grateful, as we are to his family and his many friends in this congregation today: he treasured your love and support.

Homily - Fr. James Corrigan CSsR Funeral...

FUNERAL OF FR JAMES CORRIGAN, CSsR 

BISHOP ETON, THURSDAY 24 SEPTEMBER 2015 at NOON 

HOMILY BY FR. TIM BUCKLEY C.SS.R 

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I have not had far to look for the connections which so fascinate me when I came to prepare these few words to honour the memory of Fr Jim Corrigan as we lovingly entrust him to the Lord today. Just three weeks ago to this very day, Fr Andrew, Fr Barrie and I went to Christopher Grange, complete with a cake, to celebrate Fr Jim’s 88th Birthday. I don’t think we were responsible, but that night he was in the Royal Liverpool Hospital, only to be discharged at lunchtime the following day. Sadly these breathless turns were becoming a pattern and a few days later he landed in Whiston Hospital. They kept him in for a few days, and it seemed that both he and the Lord had decided that enough was enough, so on cue on the night of the 62nd anniversary of his ordination he went peacefully to the Lord: it was the feast of Our Lady of Sorrows and today is the Feast of Our Lady of Walsingham. He would appreciate the connections: he had a great devotion to our Blessed Lady.

Homily - Br Glyn's Funeral...

BRO GLYN’S FUNERAL HOMILY

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There are times in life when our encounters with one another seem to carry particular significance, and for me, getting to know Glyn Blackman would certainly fall into that category. We need to go back to the first two weeks of May1978 and visit the eastern valleys of Wales, where Fr Gerry Costello and I were giving a mission in the parishes of St Francis, Talywain and St Felix, Blaenavon, which lie north of Pontypool, a town famous in those days for the front row of the Welsh Rugby team. Among those who attended the mission morning and evening was a quiet, unassuming, middle-aged man, who eventually introduced himself and asked for a chat. He had taken note of the fact that I was the vocations’ director and he asked me how he should go about joining the Redemptorists. Following the way the Lord used to work, I suggested he should ‘come and see’ and stay with us in Sunderland and he duly did. Glyn fitted in from day one and as they say the rest is history. By the autumn of the following year he had entered the novitiate in Plymouth and he made his profession on 20th September 1980. 

Homily - Br Anthony's Funeral...

 

Funeral Homily for Brother Anthony, C.Ss.R.
St. Mary’s Monastery, Kinnoull, Perth
25th May, 2013
 
In many senses we are returning to where the adventure of Religious Life began for Bro. Antony; because it was here 52 year ago – on this sanctuary - that Anthony pronounced his first Vows as a Redemptorist.
 
And I say ‘adventure’ because it seems to me that it was indeed an adventure for Anthony. In one of the things he wrote for our vocations’ literature, he said that he loved driving – and driving fast!  And after service in the army he did indeed take to driving – although I suspect at a more moderate pace, since he drove buses.
 
However, all that changed when he became a Redemptorist - and the car – and the speed - became synonymous with Anthony. I can recall at least two occasions when, being pulled in by the police for speeding, Anthony jumped out of the car, fully habited – to the consternation of the Police Officer whose mouth dropped, and who half apologised to Anthony, who explained that he was on his way to a funeral! Only cautions were ever given – which Anthony gratefully received, and continued to drive at his normal speed!
 
Anthony is most closely associated with Redemptorist Publications – and we are sorry that due to the disruption at Heathrow, two staff members, Christine Thirkell and Trish Wilson – who were determined to make the journey from Hampshire to Perth, could not in the end be present here. However, their strong desire to be here, I am sure, indicates the affection in which Brother Anthony was held in the Office and in the locality – as well as in the community.
 
Anthony’s life, however, was not confirmed to Chawton. He was a pioneer member of the community which started our youth ministry (and later adult ministry) in Acre House in Glasgow, where he cooked for countless numbers of young people who came for day retreats.
 
He was also stationed in Clapham for some years where he was Bursar, shopper, provider -and cook when necessary.  Anthony was in some sense the ‘door keeper’ at that time, and carefully ‘vetted’ the countless stream of people who passed through Clapham from all continents.
 
However, it is Chawton which was really ‘home for Anthony’ over these past years. He was stationed here in Kinnoull for just over a year but when asked to return to Chawton and help re-form (you can interpret that word as you wish) the community, he readily agreed, And it was a good move for him, for Denis and George and later Terry.
 
In the past year Anthony’s health started to decline as well know. It actually seems more than a month ago, when Denis called me and told me that he had accompanied Anthony into the Emergency Rooms at Basingstoke Hospital.  I visit Anthony that afternoon with Denis, and the consultant informed us that Anthony was gravely ill and did not appear to hold out much hope for his recovery.
 
Imagine my surprise when I heard he was moved to Winchester hospital a week later – only to relapse, recover, move to Alton Cottage hospital where he sat up and took afternoon tea with Denis – and then relapse again. I used to joke with Denis as I asked how ‘Lazarus’ was.
 
However, I began to realise that this use of the name Lazarus was not a bad comparison. Lazarus did rise from the dead. But more importantly, Lazarus was a very good friend of Jesus.  If you read the gospels carefully, it seems to me that the home of Lazarus (where he resided with his sisters Martha and Mary) was a place of respite for Jesus. It seems that this is the place to which he could escape and rest and relax......where he was well cared for, in terms of food, and hospitality and also space.
 
And these are the things that I so very closely associate with Anthony.  Hospitality. Welcome. A meal – his famous soups. They are all synonymous with the man. His famous quip, “Anything for the Fathers” as he prepared a meal, made his daily visit to Morrison’s here in Perth or in Alton, could be taken as tongue in cheek; and yet there was a ring of truth in it. Nothing was too much for Anthony when welcoming confreres or guests.  Meal appeared from nowhere, an assurance of a warm welcome was given – and space was also afforded to the guest which I know so many of us welcomed. Anthony would never crowd a person. I have been met by Anthony at Alton station. At Heathrow airport, at Gatwick airport, at Perth station – and always with a simple, “Welcome Ronnie”. As thought it was a part of the job. It was indeed part of his life - of caring for other
 
He was a true home maker. And I know he will be sadly missed for these qualities and for a hundred other gifts that I am not aware of.
 
He will be missed by our Province. He was a pioneer Brother – bridging the transition between the traditional domestic Brother and the Brother who engages in a whole variety of apostolates, from Bursar to office worker.
 
He will be sorely missed by the Redemptorist community in Chawton. And here I would like to say a special word of gratitude to Fr. Denis McBride. I know that Denis never considered his care of Anthony as the duty of a Superior, but rather as the solicitude of a friend. When we received Anthony’s body last evening, I described Denis as his Superior – but also his carer and his friend. And I know this to be true.  No one knows how many hours Denis spent by Anthony’s bedside, nor the miles to drove to hospitals and clinics, nor the trays he carried up to his room.
 
But what I do know is that a deep bond developed between Denis and Anthony that that Denis’ devoted care for him went far beyond any concept of duty. It was carried out in LOVE. And God is love. So I thank God for this witness to service which is at the heart of Christian and Redemptorist life, and we offer Denis and Terry our prayers, support and gratitude at this difficult time, and in the days ahead.
 
For us a Redemptorists, an occasion like this is in many senses the culmination of our vowed life. When we move down to the cemetery after Mass, you will see rows of gravestones, on each of which you will see a crown at the top of the stone. This signifies the words of our founder St. Alphonsus, “I see prepared by God a crown of welcome and glory for those who die in our Congregation.” I know Anthony deserved this crown. I believe he will receive this crown of glory – a metaphor for the full knowledge and vision of God which surely he is enjoying now.
 
A great life – and a blessed death – and now heaven. God bless Anthony, and may his soul rest in peace.
 
Ronald J. McAinsh, C.Ss.R.
Provincial Superior
 
 

 

Br. Richard's Funeral Homily...

 

BROTHER RICHARD GOLDING, CSsR, 1924- 2009

Dear family and friends:

People say there is a page in the Gospel for each of us. One, in particular, is a source of great hope and consolation. It tells the story of an old man, Simeon, who lives on a promise. He is unusual because his hopes are ahead of him, not behind him. He is not fascinated by the past - he's too interested in what's going on now. This venerable pensioner is alive with conviction, waiting for the one who will be his consolation and the consolation of all peoples. In spite of the arithmetic of his years, he inclines forwards not backwards; he hungers for new signs of God's presence, and waits for the day when he can experience God's presence in the flesh.

His stubborn waiting is rewarded. One day Mary and Joseph bring their child to the Temple. Luke's Gospel paints a wonderful picture: the old man takes the newly born child from the young mother and holds him in his arms. In the person of Simeon old age welcomes into its arms the eternal youth of God. Simeon prays the prayer of happy old age, the Nunc Dimittis. You hear poetry through the wrinkles:

Now, Master, you can let your servant depart in peace

according to your word;

for my eyes have seen the salvation

which you have prepared before the face of all peoples,

a light to enlighten the Gentiles

and the glory of your people, Israel.

It was clear to Simeon that no woman or man or child would ever have to face life alone. In all the moments of life, the times when we are hurt and haunted, the times when we feel lucky and graced, Christ would be there. More than this: Christ would be there at the moment of death. And that was why Simeon was not afraid to die. He could depart in peace because he knew that the child he held for a few moments in his arms would one day hold him in an everlasting embrace.

Dear friends, Hawkstone was graced to have its own Simeon in the community, our own ancient prophet, Brother Richard, who held God close to his heart, and the Redemptorists shall always be grateful to him for his unfailing courtesy to the people who journeyed from faraway places to this remote Temple in Shropshire.

I first met Bro Richard when I was 18, freshly arrived at our novitiate house in Kinnoull, Perth. The double-barrelled novice master, Fr Edward Lumley-Holmes, decided that given my Irish name, for manual labour I should obviously be assigned to the farm rather than the house, under the superintendence of Brother Richard. It was a strange but wonderful appointment. All the advice in the novitiate I have long forgotten except Richard's when he said to me one day: "Don't believe; do not believe even half of what you hear!"

Richard was my first Redemptorist teacher - independent, wildly attractive, utterly unpredictable. A bit like another prophet, John the Baptist in the wilderness, with an instinctive suspicion of authority, so that when our chief priests would check what he was doing he would dismiss them in a line as a brood of vipers. Like John the Baptist, Richard had no automatic respect for authority: he was his own man, with a deep sense of self and mission. I can't imagine Richard, or indeed John the Baptist, needing to attend a course on "Developing Your Self-Esteem."

Assigned to Richard, of course I was useless on the farm, testing the reaches of his patience and language, and years later when I read Seamus Heaney's poem, Follower, I thought of dear Richard:

I stumbled in his hobnailed wake, Fell sometimes on the polished sod;

I wanted to grow up and plough.

All I ever did was follow

In his broad shadow around the farm.

I was a nuisance, tripping, falling, Yapping always. But today It is he who keeps stumbling Behind me, and he will not go away.

Richard and I lived in the same community for 33 years, and I have never met a pope, or a cardinal, or a bishop, or a priest, that could measure up to this authentic human being. He was an awesome man.

Born in Shrual House, Co. Mayo, in 1924, a more unlikely beginning to Richard's career could hardly be imagined - soon after school, he joined the RAF as a military policeman. Those of you who know him well will find it difficult to imagine Richard arresting people for being insubordinate or unruly, since he had a natural charism for both. His brief career as an authority figure forever behind him, he began the Redemptorist novitiate in 1952 and was appointed to South Africa a few years later, where he joined the community in Modimong to run the farm. It was the beginning of his long love affair with animals, creatures he much preferred to humans. Richard rewrote the book of Genesis and placed cattle and dogs as the summit of God's creation.

He returned to the province after six years and had a brief disastrous spell in Brazil, when he transported three tractors to Bishop Murphy, which were promptly confiscated by the customs on arrival, leaving him empty-handed and desolate. He returned, raging at corruption and greed, disillusioned but not surprised at the low calibre of human beings. Apart from brief excursions to Perth and Erdington Abbey, Richard's true home was here in Hawkstone, running the farm, for some years ably, assisted by his nephews, Paschal, David, Paul, Kevin, Bernard - there was a legion of them. It was a family business. Richard loved Hawkstone with a full heart: this was his soul home. When I came back in 1987, Richard had 72 head of cattle, 23 cats, 18 pigs, and 7 dogs. Richard happily presided over his own zoo.

In time, of course, the farm had to go, the cattle and pigs had to be sold off, the cats put down, except for Blackie, and six of the dogs found a home. Richard's world had diminished. Some years after young Dr Mehta bought the old stable block, which was Richard's cow house, Richard and I went up for the house warming. Richard stepped in to this shining expansive sitting room, now exquisitely decorated, and looking around the reaches of the room he announced to no one in particular: "Just to think how many cows I calved in here!"

So much of what he treasured was now memory. And I thought of Larkin's poem:

Perhaps being old is having lighted rooms Inside your head: everything looms Like a deep loss restored.

........... That is where they live:

Not here and now, but where all happened once.

Not here and now, but where all happened once. Yet Richard was not constrained by nostalgia: he moved on, and during the courses here in Hawkstone, he was generous in welcoming people from all over the world. Richard developed a new life - counsellor, guru, patriarchal figure to rival Abraham. Three times a day, at table, he would hold court and dispense his wisdom, loudly, so that on each course he would assemble his own groupies who are now, after all these years, as numberless as the stars.

He had a wonderful visual use of language - I remember when a sister bought him a pair of trousers, he held the hugely oversized pair up for all to behold. I said, "They're a bit big." Richard replied, "Big? Sure, you could take a lodger in these." When you listened to his summary of the morning news at breakfast, everything seemed hugely exaggerated; if there was a plane crash where 126 people died, Richard would render it that hundreds upon hundreds had perished. In his imaginative sympathy he knew that the loss was not limited to the arithmetic of people inside the plane: the loss would go on and on and on. Instinctively he knew that.

Richard's large and distinguished family visited regularly, and he would sit in the coffee room, listening and attending. And then at supper he would share the insights always of the little ones, like little Luke or Bobbie, and say with pride: "Aren't they the clever little divils!" Needless to say for Richard, devil was a compliment.

Richard's real companion in old age was Meg, his favourite dog. As Richard got slower and slower, Meg got larger and larger. You would see them out walking every day, Meg adjusting her pace to the faltering stride of her master. Richard would often sit in the summer house, brushing her coat, while she would look up adoringly into his eyes. This wordless relationship was Richard's favourite. When Meg died out of season I thought that Richard would find a new companion, but it wasn't to be: Meg could never be* replaced, he explained; to replace her would be - " unfaithful" was his word. So for the last couple of years of his life, Richard walked haltingly around the grounds alone, with the memory of Meg, in step, beside him.

For the final chapter of his life he was attended by Sister Laurice, who cared for Richard with enormous love and devotion. They were the odd couple at Hawkstone, cajoling one another, accusing one another across tables, laughing. They had antennae fixed on each another, ever alert to the other's presence or absence. As Redemptorists we owe a huge debt of gratitude to Laurice for her abiding care.

Richard's favourite place was the chapel, his Temple, where he was at home with God. He would bend God's ear for hours every day, reminding God in no uncertain terms, who to care for especially and who to smite. Or he would simply snooze, at ease with the God he had served so generously through his long life. He waited for God; he was ready. "Now, Lord, you can let your servant depart in peace."

Richard died on a sunny afternoon in May, out of doors, walking up the lane, in view of his beloved cow-house. He was himself until the end and he died inside his own landscape.

Dear friends, those of us who knew Richard will have our private memories of him.

For me, he leaves behind him the memory of a man of abiding faith,

the memory of graciousness to others,

a dear good-humoured friend who loved life until life was no more.

He has now gone to the place about which Saint Alphonsus wrote:

When we reach heaven, our state is changed. There will be no more toil, but rest; No more fear, but security; No more sadness or weariness; But gladness and joy eternal.

May dear Richard, and all his beloved family who went before him, rest in peace.

Denis McBride, CSsR

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Br Malachy's Requiem...

 

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Brother Malachy

 

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Homily Preached by Fr. Provincial, Ronald McAinsh C.Ss.R.

I feel enormously privileged to be preaching today at the Mass to celebrate the life and death of Bro. Malachy – but also at somewhat of a loss as to what I should say about so great a man.

 

That Brother Malachy was a saint is not in doubt in my mind. I recall the evening before his death Fr. Richard and I coming away from a visit and saying, 'Well why would anyone want to go to Padua or Assisi or our own Materdomini where St Gerard is buried – to venerate the body of a dead saint - when we have just spent half an hour with saint we both know’.  Certainly by the huge turn out here today, this view is shared by so many of you.

 

Brother Malachy lived a comparatively hidden life. But in fact, he was probably the best known and most loved Redemptorist by the people, in any of the communities in which he lived

 

I mention the hidden life of Malachy – mostly spent in the garden or in the sacristy. But this was a man who had seen the world. Although he was born in Leitrim, Ireland, he joined the British Army at a young age and his first foreign posting (after England) was in Austria. After this he was sent to Hong Kong in 1947 where his Unit was involved in the battle against the communists.

 

From there he moved almost right round the world to Jamaica. However, with the outbreak of the Korean War he was sent back to Germany, and then posted to Korea. I asked him only a week or so ago if it was very hot in Korea. And with perfect clarity he said that in fact he was in the North, and in winter is was colder than Perth.  So already he was hardened for the rigours of cold Kinnoull...

 

On his return to UK, he prayed about his future and decided that he was called to be a Cistercian Brother. However, when he went to the Redemptoristine Convent to tell this to Sr. Patrick – his sister who is here with us today – the Reverend Mother of that time – and remember, Reverend Mothers had power in those days – told him that he should be aRedemptorist Brother. And so he came here to Kinnoull in 1955 to begin his journey in Redemptorist Religious life...... a life he lived faithfully for these past 56 years.

 

We could say today that this is where the journey ends.... ...where it all began. But of course our faith tells us something very different. Because we believe that the journey carries on... it carries on in God, in eternal life... it carries on it the hearts of the many people Malachy touched during his life, it carries on in all the works and kindnesses he preformed over the years in the various communities in which he lived and worked.

 

Because we all know that Brother Malachy had a very rich and full interior life. I remember two years ago he was admitted to PRI after he had a slight blood clot on his leg. And he asked to me go to his room and there I would find a small (and I must say battered) little case in which he kept the few necessities of life which he might need in such an eventuality - His pyjamas, his toiletries and two books. Both books were by the medieval mystic saint, Maister Eckhart – about whom Malachy seems to have been something of an expert. Malachy had a deep knowledge of the interior life – and indeed when he went into hospital a few weeks ago – and little did we know that he would not return home – we took him a new life of Mother Celeste, the mystic and foundress of the Redemptoristines, and he read it within two days – and loved it.

 

Malachy had extraordinary physical energy. He never pushed a wheelbarrow. He ran with it. He washed dishes and dug gardens at an amazing rate. However, I would suggest that the energy came from within. It came from a deep inner freedom and a deep union with God that we cannot even begin to fathom.

 

I had glimpse of it from time to time when we spoke about his impending death and what lay beyond. When he was first diagnosed with motor neuron disease at the end of February I was in Zimbabwe, and Fr. Mulligan contacted me. My first reaction was one of anger.....’How could you do this God, to aman who has served you so vigorously with so much faithfulness’?

 

And when I returned the following week, I shared this with Malachy. He just smiled and said “Well perhaps God wants absolutely everything”; - and indeed God did.  I then said, I suppose you are a bit like St. Peter to whom Jesus said, “When you were young you would put on your clothes and go where you wished”....And Malachy finished the phrase for me by saying, “But when you are old, another will take you and lead you in a way you would rather not go”...... And again he gave his quiet smile. And no other words were necessary.

 

His trust in God was complete and utter. And likewise his gratitude for all he received from God’s hands – which appears even to have included his illness. He was truly a man with a grateful heart.

 

And it was this serenity, this gratitude, this graciousness - (Full of grace) that touched the hearts of so many people. I recall when he was in Ninewells hospital Dundee, a nurse telling me that she had asked to be moved from another ward for the weekend to his ward, because when she was nursing Malachy, she felt she was in the presence of something blessed and special that she could not describe.

 

When he was in Cornhill, the Nurses told him that he did not have to keep on saying ‘thank you’ for every little service they rendered. They said, “That’s why we are here”. But Malachy could not change his nature of being a gracious man who always expressed his thankfulness.

 

I remember many year ago when I was Novice Master asking Fr. Bernard Haring, a famous and holy Redemptorist in Rome, what I should look out for in men who were joining us.

 

And he said, ‘First of all try and see if they have Eucharistic hearts. Eucharist means gratitude, and so I mean hearts that are positive and grateful – and that they are people who are ready and willing to break the bread of their lives for others.’ Surely our Malachy fulfilled this description to perfection.

 

Those of us who have lived with Brother Malachy knew that he was an intensely private person. He worked alone in the garden. He prayed for hours alone in the Church. He worked alone in the sacristy, and he sat in his room for hours reading his spiritual books in solitude.

 

I often wondered how he would accept illness and the loss of privacy. The reality is that he accepted them with totally equanimity and peace. When he first began to feel feeble, we got him a Zimmer so that he could be moderately mobile. You would have thought we had brought him a Ferrari – the gratitude and joy on his face was so intense.

 

And when he totally lost his privacy and had to be fed and bathed, his disposition remained utterly positive and docile. His adaptability from a hidden and independent life in the Monastery, to a public and dependent life in hospital was truly amazing.

 

So what do we learn from this life? We are not here to canonise Malachy. That is the last thing he would have wanted.

 

But there are a few lessons that his life can teach us.

 

The first, I think is to be grateful – to be people who can see the half full glass rather than the half empty glass. To be people who remember the blessings we have in life – our health, our families, our friends, and God’s love for us.

 

To be wholehearted in what we do. Malachy it seems to me, was single-minded. It did not matter if it was digging a field, welcoming a visitor or lighting the candles. He put his heart in to whatever was needed at that moment.

 

To be cheerful in adversity. Malachy was the same when things worked out well for him, as when things were collapsing around him. He accepted the various moves from community to community without a grumble, although I have no doubt it cost him something within.

 

To pray and to trust in God. This I think was Malachy’s greatest legacy to us. He was a man of deep prayer. Often he would sit in this church in silence and pray for the world – for us. And in times of difficulty, he had particular devotion to and trust in our Mother of Perpetual Help, under whose title this church is dedicated. And he often told me he was praying to her for me, and for all our needs.

 

And finally to be there for others. Malachy did so much for others – quietly and humbly, whether it was putting out the dustbins each week or leaving a note to change the host in the tabernacle or to collect the eggs from the hens.  He generously prayed for so many intentions. You only had to ask him and he would assure you of his prayers.

 

Above all, he challenges us to put God before everything else.

 

I would like to conclude by thanking the members of the Community here at the Monastery, for their love and care for Brother Malachy. It was utterly outstanding. The Redemptorist community and the extended community, not only of Srs. Maureen and Monica, but all of these who work here and loved him so much. I cannot mention each one by name. But I know that each one loved him – and was loved by Brother Malachy.

 

I would like to thank our regular Masses attenders, and all of those who visited Malachy when he was in hospital or Cornhill.

 

A special word of thank to the doctors, nurses and staff of PRI and Ninewells – and in a very special and focused way to those in Cornhill who made life for him – and for us – so blessed during his final few weeks.

 

I express our condolences to Srs. Patrick and Colette his blood sisters, and to Brother Malachy’s family and friends.

 

We will shortly lay Malachy to rest in our Monastery cemetery. We will say farewell to his body. But his spirit will remain with us in the years that lie ahead - whenever we come into this Church, or walk in the gardens, or look at the hens, or watch the grass grow, Malachy’s spirit will be with us.

 

We were privileged to have Brother Malachy with us for so long a time. May his soul rest in peace.  Amen

 

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