| "Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord?" (1 Corinthians 9:1) A week ago today, when Fr Antony and I arrived at the Royal Gwent Hospital in Newport we found Fr Christopher still warm. He had been unconscious since the early hours of the morning, struck down by a devastating brain haemorrhage, something quite unexpected that took us all by surprise. Indeed, Br Bernard and I were due to meet with him and the staff at St Joseph's, Malpas, that very afternoon to plan the next stage of his convalescence, the move to a convent nursing home where he might even take up the duties of chaplain. Christopher had no intention of retiring; he couldn't bear the thought of being useless, of doing nothing. Perhaps his untimely death was a blessing, God's gift to a beloved son and faithful priest. We heard in the first reading, "They who trust in Him will understand the truth, those who are faithful will live with Him in love, for grace and mercy await those He has chosen." (Wisdom 3:9) Fr Christopher was certainly a man who understood the truth, he thought deeply about God and lived for God. He died in his dog collar, a catholic priest to the end. When Fr Antony and I eventually found Ward D2 East, where he had been taken from Resuscitation, a young African nurse prepared us to see him. She was very kind, as indeed have been all the staff who looked after him at Dolgellau, Wrexham, Liverpool, Malpas and Newport. We thank them all. There he lay, lifeless, no longer the Christopher we had known. I thought of the angel's words to the women at the tomb, "He is no longer here. He has risen." Even in the frailty of his last illness, Christopher, when he was awake, was full of life: the eyes, the smile, the voice, the warmth, the passionate interest in what was going on, the insistence on having his own way. As we were ushered to his bed behind closed curtains, I noticed that the nurse had covered the bedside closet with a cloth on which she had placed a vase of flowers and an open Bible. She must have opened it at random. My eye was drawn immediately to the text. It was 1 Corinthians 9:1 and it read, "Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord?" It was Christopher speaking to us through this text of St Paul, a man so much like himself, a convert, difficult to live and work with, aggressive in his following of Christ, faithful to the Gospel and, above all, to the Church. At last Christopher had reached his journey's end. He had been called home by the God he loved and try to serve in so many ways throughout life "for grace and mercy await those he has chosen." But do pray for him, for the repose of his soul. Christopher really believed in Purgatory. Like St Paul and like Jesus himself, Fr Christopher, or David, Daf (that's short for Dafydd), Jenks, or whatever it is you called him, Dom Christopher Jenkins had a profound effect on many people. It was impossible to remain indifferent to him. You either loved or hated him, and for most of us it was probably both, like Dido and Aeneas. Conversation with him was never idle chatter and never boring. There was substance in what he said, a word that could change your life. In that sense he was an apostle, someone sent by the Lord to show you the way. It wasn't always a kindly word and it was rarely the word you wanted to hear. He always spoke the truth, as he saw it, and it was straight speaking. He never beat round the bush. He could be cutting and offensive, but then the word of God is like a two-edged sword and truth can be painful. He was provocative and that brought out the best and, at times, the worst in people. He was demanding, absolute, bloody-minded, impossible. Ask any former abbot, head master, bursar, student, or parishioner. With Christopher it was all or nothing. And yet he could be loyal and caring and kindness itself. He always had time for you and was one of those rare people who always made you feel important. I think, above all, of his work for handicapped children whether at Lourdes or during the famous "Crips" holidays he organised at Belmont with sixth-formers. He hated hypocrisy, false piety, pussy footing and woolly thinking. In spite of his Welsh origins, he was the quintessential Englishman, though not quite a gentleman. He loved the monarchy and was devoted to Her Majesty the Queen and the Queen Mother. He all but worshipped Maggie Thatcher and thoroughly disapproved of Harold Wilson and of all things labour and liberal. His theological tastes were distinctly nineteenth century and insular, Cardinal Newman being the only star on his horizon. He had little interest in scripture or the fathers of the Church, in the medieval mystics or the monastic tradition. They were all too foreign and far removed for him. Yet it was Christopher who invited Cardinal Ratzinger to speak at Cambridge and it was the English hierarchy who rather embarrassingly had to turn up for the occasion. He might be liberal, modern and articulate in approach and presentation, but he was, like many converts from Anglicanism, essentially conservative and catholic in theological outlook. His was a religion of dogmatic certainties strongly held. Received into the Catholic Church by Monsignor Gilby at Cambridge, he looked back nostalgically to the pre-conciliar Church of his student days. He loved the theatre, preferred Alan Bennett to Shakespeare, and was a first class producer and director. Encouraged by his dear friend Lisle Massey-Lynch, he did much to popularise the theatre in Herefordshire through the production of many fine school plays and revues and Belmont participation in the Hereford Drama festival. He wasn't too keen on classical music and always said that Bach only wrote one tune. He preferred Irving Berlin to Beethoven and Cole Porter to Palestrina. His favourite singer was not Maria Callas but Vera Lynne. He didn't care for the ballet, and preferred Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers to Nurayev and Fontaine. And can you remember his Beatle haircut? He read History at Cambridge and then did National Service, rising to the rank of lance corporal. When he left St Edmund's, Ware, under a cloud, he turned to teaching as a career and was a brilliant teacher, equally effective with bright pupils as with c-streamers, for whom he had a particular soft spot. He was an able educator, was House Master of Kemble for many years in succession to Fr Aelred, Deputy Head Master to Fr. now Bishop Mark and eventually Head Master in succession to Fr Simon. Sadly he was the last Head Master of Belmont. Do look at the various websites for the wonderful tributes from so many old boys and girls. They make fascinating reading. He became Chaplain at his beloved Cambridge, for Christopher the most beautiful place in the world, and more recently at Keele. His appointment at Cambridge was somewhat controversial at the time, but he proved to be an admirable Chaplain at Fisher House and was much liked by undergraduates in particular. His portrait now hangs in the Chaplain's dining room together with such eminent past Chaplains as Archbishop Couve de Murville, who is with us today, and Monsignor Alfred Gilby. When the school closed he became Parish Priest of St Francis Xavier, Hereford, not an easy change, and it was a traumatic time for all concerned. School masters don't make automatic parish priests and you can't treat adults like children. In fact, David Jenkins had come from Southampton to Belmont in 1960 to be a schoolmaster and he joined the community in 1963 to remain a schoolmaster at Belmont and to become a priest rather than a monk. He received little monastic formation and was rushed through to ordination. In the space of three weeks in 1967 he made his solemn profession and was ordained sub-deacon, deacon and priest. But then it was the system, not Fr Christopher, to blame. Together with the chaplaincy at Keele he became Parish Priest at Swynnerton at the invitation of Lord Stafford. Again these were difficult years. Britain had changed and young people with it and Christopher had aged physically. He was happy, but missed Cambridge and Belmont. Still, everywhere he touched people's lives. All of us here today have in some way been affected by Christopher. For my part, I probably wouldn't be here now had he |