All of us, I suppose, have a favourite piece of prose, a poem or even a book which we can go back to from time to time, which can cheer us up and warm our hearts. When I find myself musing about what it means to be a priest in today’s world, about the tension that is so evident in our world today as we try and present the message of Christ to people who often seem disinterested or even hostile, I often find myself reaching for an article written by a man called Hugh Lavery.
Some of you may have heard of him: he was a priest from a northern diocese, a pastoral priest, a theologian and spiritual writer. I remember as a young seminarian attending a retreat, which was led by Hugh Lavery; his words, his demeanour, spoke to me and so I find great comfort in an article which he wrote a number of years ago, entitled “The Priest as Presence”. The presence of the priest is paramount – who he is, is far more important than what he does. The priest is another Christ – he points to a different way of living, to embracing the qualities of Christ – by his presence he invites others to trust more fully in God’s providence for them. For a priest there is no easy way to measure success – there are no graphs or grades. This is how Hugh Lavery puts it: “The pastor cannot measure his achievements for he is always sowing, never reaping. No harvest moon ever shines for him. He lives in the night with only one star to guide. The star is the lamp of God and he is called to relay its light.”
I thought of those words soon after I heard the sad news that, after the months of his illness, Basil Potter had peacefully slipped away to his eternal reward. Basil showed himself to be a priest in every fibre of his being and although he did not always exercise a ministerial priesthood, he was always a true pastor in the compassion and concern he showed towards those around him. Like us all, Basil had also to learn that as a disciple of Christ we are caught up in that continuous process of death and resurrection – the paschal mystery. Perhaps that is why Basil chose our Gospel reading – an amalgam from the gospel of Luke telling of both the death and resurrection of Jesus. Basil is telling us that we must always be prepared to die to self so as to allow the new life of Christ to shine more powerfully in us. Basil’s own life was one such experience of dying and rising. For seventeen years he worked as a priest in the diocese of Westminster. It is good that we have with us today Fr Cedric Stanley, who studied with Basil at St Edmund’s College, Ware. During those years in Westminster he worked in a couple of parishes before he was asked to become chaplain to the growing West Indian community in London. To prepare himself he went to St Lucia and Dominica so as to understand the culture and customs of the people that he was going to minister to. He then moved on – he married Maire in this church of Our Lady of Peace, he became a father to Eleanor, Vincent and Rebecca and also a fulltime teacher. Again he taught in difficult schools, hoping to make a difference to lives of children by his commitment to gospel values. He retired from teaching in 1993 and started his nursery – not for children but for fuchsias, geraniums and other plants. His nursery in Dorney was a real meeting place: Basil always had time to talk and listen to those who came ostensibly to buy plants, but who often went away feeling as though they had been helped in more ways than one.
When that came to an end he returned to study and he and Maire undertook courses in theology at Heythrop College. Throughout all this time Basil was also fully involved in the life of Our Lady of Peace parish: he was secretary of the parish council for many years, involved with the confirmation group, eucharistic minister and always prepared to help anyone in need. He was always ready to let something go so as to start something new.
A leitmotif running through Basil’s life was his real concern to help the marginalised – those whom others overlooked or were not interested in. Over the years he supported the work of the Simon Community, Survive Miva and Cafod. He was involved in Cafod’s education programme and visited schools explaining to children the issues and concerns that Cafod was involved in. Here at Our Lady of Peace his name will always be synonymous with the London Run – that dedicated group of people who, Monday in Monday out, take tea, coffee, sandwiches, clothes to those homeless people on the streets of London. Basil would be so pleased to think that some of those whom he helped are here with us today at this Requiem Mass. Basil was a tireless campaigner for them and it was right that his efforts should be recognised by Her Majesty the Queen when he was made a Member of the British Empire. Basil certainly did not seek the honour- he wondered what had happened to the ‘Empire’- and in his typical self-effacing manner he graciously accepted his gong on behalf of all those many homeless people whom he had journeyed with. He even put on shoes and socks for his encounter with the Queen at Buckingham Palace.
Basil is not a man who will be easily forgotten. His memory will linger long in our hearts. That is because he was a true pastor – a man whose presence spoke of his concern and compassion towards every person. He lived the mystery of Christ’s death and resurrection in his own life and he relayed the light of God to those around him.
If Basil were here now I am sure that he would want me to mention his family who brought him such strength, love and comfort and especially Maire whose love for Basil was so strong and constant. He would want me to thank them for all they have given to him. He would want each one of us here today to pray for him: he was aware of his weaknesses and frailty – pray that God will be for him a merciful judge. And so we commend him to the Lord and pray that he will have the reward of his labours - eternal rest and peace, in the presence of the God whom he loved in the presence of the Christ whom he served so faithfully.