We are here today to remember Canon Roy Barker - with sadness that he is no longer on this earth with us, with gladness that he is with the Lord he served so lovingly and with great thanksgiving for his life, especially that part of it that he shared with the congregation of this cathedral and the community of Grahamstown, during his years as Dean - 1980-1992.
A number of people who knew Roy in that particular context have sent memories and tributes and I have tried to weave them into a tapestry that pictures something of the Roy of Grahamstown they knew and loved. I am sure that there are others who might have liked to contribute their memories or tributes and I apologise if I have not contacted them. What we present this morning is, however, on behalf of us all. No names are mentioned. We are a community of those who loved and admired a special person.
I haven't attempted a biography, just focused on the man himself as seen by some of those whose lives he touched.
John Jackson and I will read alternately to give some idea of changes of voice as different people offer their memories of Roy.
The most important event in Roy Barker's life - for us, anyway - was his becoming Dean of the Cathedral of St Michael and St George here in Grahamstown in 1980: a `reluctant dean' as one of his former colleagues describes him. `I understand,' he says, `Roy took some persuading to accept the post of Dean of Grahamstown. He was always modest about his many gifts.'
That modesty, which some refer to as self-effacement and others hesitancy, is one of the threads that runs through the offerings for this tribute. Another - the dominant thread of the tapestry - is loving and being loved. When he came to this cathedral Roy stated his vision as `the building up and nurturing of a worshipping, loving and caring community'. And these are some of the comments that highlight that golden thread:
The love he preached and lived was not a squishy, sentimental love, but something strong and costly. It is something to accept for oneself; `you are here,' he would say, `because God loves you.' He coined the word `lovedness' - we had to know that we are loved and then pass on that love.
A contributor quotes two phrases from the book of reflections by Roy Barker and Geoffrey Dunstan, based on columns they had contributed to the Saturday Argus in the 1970s. `Asked about the purpose of life Roy writes, "if it is possible to put it in a few words I would say: life is basically for responding to God's love by loving other people in the way he loves us." And in response to another question: "the important thing is to live constantly the truth that we are loved, therefore we can love, not in sentimental terms but in the difficult terms of our daily relationships with people whose lives we touch in one way and another."'
Another offers this thought: `I think that Roy's statement, "Love people into the kingdom" reflects just who he was'. And a number of people have echoed that key phrase `love people into the kingdom' that ran like a refrain through his teaching.
And that brings us to another common thread in the tapestry: the excellence of Roy's preaching.
`I don't think I ever heard him give a poor sermon'
`He was among the best preachers I have heard, and his response to any who complimented him on a good sermon was, `well, that is very kind of you'. He wrestled with his sermon content, sometimes late into the night, and he was the reluctant presence in the pulpit, but the humility and content were memorable.'
`If anyone believed in and lived out the two great commandments, it was Roy. This was revealed in so much of what he offered to this parish, including the sermons, every one of which I heard was uniquely special. An important ingredient was subtle humour. This did not take the form of joke-telling or poking fun at others. Sometimes it involved gentle teasing, but more often a delight in the complexity of being human.'
`I loved his sermons, so beautifully wrapped up, always coming back at the end to the point where they had begun.'
Roy lived the lovingness he preached, pre-eminently in ministering to those `in trouble, need, sickness or any other adversity' and many have remembered occasions when they or someone dear to them was touched by this ministry:
`Roy Barker had an extraordinary gift of empathy - entering into and sharing the suffering of those who came to him in deep distress, accompanying them through the vales of despair, guilt and grief at no small cost to himself'.
`Always a welcome visitor, preparing the ground. Then, when he received the call that the end was near, he came immediately. Mom put out her hand and he received it and held it until she had gone. I think the secret is that he was always there for her when he visited, although he was so humble he could never understand why his calls meant so much to her'.
`My most enduring memory of Roy Barker pertains to those occasions when I encountered him at Brookshaw Home. He would have celebrated the Eucharist in the Brookshaw Chapel before taking holy communion to the sick - either in their rooms or in the sanatorium . I well remember how much those sickbed visits, with the administering of the blessed sacrament, meant to my dear mother and to so many other elderly recipients.
Certainly Roy had a particular gift for ministering to the sick and dying - and to the bereaved, and part of that ministry was his funeral sermons that so beautifully encapsulated a person's life.
Counselling was, of course, intertwined with his caring ministry:
`Roy was a fine spiritual director. He was well read, and when this was combined with wisdom to offer the right words at the right time, he was able to help many people. And you always knew that the focus was on you rather than on him. That was true much of the time, for he was unselfish and genuinely interested in what others had to say'.
`He was a superb listener. He might not agree with everything one was saying, but one knew that he was taking it all in: not just the lines themselves, but the very complicated things that he could see between the lines. Gently he might offer something that had not occurred to one before. Suddenly one could understand so much more, and sense that one was beginning to be healed'.
If one went to Roy with a problem, large or small, he would listen attentively, look at you quietly for a while and then ask, `What is the most loving thing to do?'
Prayer and worship were of the essence of Roy's life. Guy Butler put his finger on it nearly 20 years ago when the Barkers were leaving Grahamstown:
`It is hard to believe that he has been with us for almost 12 years - so fresh has his ministry been. One can best ascribe this to his own disciplined closeness to the always present, renewing Spirit. He has made many over-familiar words leap back into life: "O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness."'
Love of the beauty of words, of music and of the visual were part of his nature.
`He confided in a member of the choir that `one of his greatest accomplishments had been to attract Christopher Cockburn to be organist and choirmaster, and certainly the music rose to new heights under Christopher with Roy's support. Roy had a fine voice himself and I fondly remember his splendid chanting, not only at Evensong, but also of the morning gospel.'Roy introduced occasional `words and music' services, choosing readings and music that complemented each other and conveyed the messages of the liturgical year in new ways. He also encouraged and occasionally participated in the `Faith and Literature' group and was delighted by the commonplace book presented to him when he left with contributions of favourite writings. He himself had the poet's gift for choosing the apt image.
When faced with the crisis of a cracked spire and other major structural problems with the cathedral building, Roy spoke of `the need to create more beauty in our lives and to preserve what we have', despite the cost. And so, under him, major restoration of the cathedral was undertaken. He was particular about the care of its fabric and furnishings in ways small and great.
But Roy Barker never forgot that out there was a world in turmoil, needing compassion and active endeavours to confront injustice. A strong, sometimes dark, thread in the tapestry
Someone who had known him as chaplain to students at UCT remembers how supportive he was of students struggling against the injustices of their society:
Another writes, `Roy was courageous in the fight against Apartheid. He allowed Black Sash members to have stands at the west door of the cathedral, arranged special services, and was very supportive of Margaret's Black Sash activities and of the members in general'.
He was one of the prime movers in the Dependants' Conference that helped the families and friends of detainees in many practical ways. One of his colleagues in this endeavour speaks of his `warm, concerned, loving presence' at their meetings.
He was not always supported in these activities, in fact was often castigated for them, by some members of his congregation. This was very hurtful, but Roy stood firm with courage and conviction although he never felt that he (or any of us) was doing enough .
And what about the outward person?
At a social gathering in St George's Hall to welcome the Barkers in August 1980, Roy added as a postscript to his speech, `Don't be tempted to try to fatten me up'. His tall spare figure is remembered by many who knew him.
I remember his comment when marrying my niece in the DSG chapel. He had not previously seen the groom even taller and thinner than Roy was. Roy's comment during the ceremony was, ` I see that you also have the perfect metabolism.'
Another with a mental picture of the tall thin Roy first encountered him when he was chaplain at UCT in the 1960s. I was pleasantly surprised one afternoon to see him walking onto the cricket field at Observatory, tall in his white cricket flannels and big boots, with his genial face and pleasant greeting.
Do you know that, as well as being a cricketer, Roy captained the rugby team at King's College, London, in his student days?
And do any of you remember his socks? At a period when the most common gift for a man was a new tie, what could one give a clergyman confined to a dog collar? Socks, of course, and Roy had a wonderful collection of colourful socks which could sometimes be seen protruding below the hems of the trousers clothing those long legs.
Love of family was woven into everything. Roy and Margaret were a wonderful team and their love and support for each other was an inspiration to other couples. Their four children were in the frontline for loving care, and it was family concerns that took them back to England, their home country in 1992, leaving many feeling bereft, one says, `derelict'.
We did not know of the other loving leaders God would be sending us, and that Roy and Margaret were needed elsewhere. Roy felt that he must help his sister care for their mother in her declining years. He didn't know at the time that he and Margaret would also be giving tremendous, often hands on, support to their son Cameron in London (also a priest) and his wife and children through a long period of serious illness that his wife Jocelyn underwent until a lung transplant brought her new life. During that time the cathedral congregation here prayed regularly for her, linking us to the Barkers. David in England and Stephen and Katherine in South Africa were greatly loved.and their seven grandchildren were a constant joy. We send our loving sympathy to them all.
Even while in Grahamstown, Roy had to deal with health problems of his own that included a major lung operation, but he always made light of his own suffering and focused on the needs of others.
Back in England, a deteriorating neurological condition made standing and walking increasingly difficult, and he had to preach and celebrate the eucharist from a seated position. My last picture of Roy is of him sitting at the dining room table in his home in Bristol about a year ago, on a bar stool, and chuckling about sitting on a matching barstool behind the altar.
And then, a few months ago he was diagnosed with cancer. One of our parishioners who saw him recently writes, `Even though he was clearly coming to a painful end to his life, his sensitivity to the needs of others was undiminished'.
And a dear friend of the family tells of how, as recently as August, Roy and Margaret travelled from Bristol to Oxford to be present at her granddaughter's wedding although by now they knew that Roy was seriously ill. `I feel,' she writes, `that this effort symbolized his loving care for the many people who filled his life, so, as we grief the loss of the dear self-effacing human being, we cannot fail to give thanks for his life among us here in Grahamstown, where he showed us what it means to be a servant of his Lord, and ours, and helped to make us better persons in our own lives in loving and caring as he did.
Roy's last Sunday in this cathedral was All Saints' Day 1992, and in his sermon he reminded the congregation that we are all called to be saints. His last words to us were:
`When you leave this cathedra this morning, perhaps you had better duck or walk sideways: you never know, someone may be thanking God for you right now, thanking God for all the saints of today. I am sure that all the saints gathered round the throne of God in heaven are saying or singing their thanksgiving for the saints on earth. Duck as you go out: you may be among them!' (the reason for having to duck - you might be wearing a halo!)
The last word comes from one who knew Roy well:
We are rarely privileged to meet with saints - but I know that this has been the blessing which all who have known Roy will have received.
Perhaps he is now gathered round the throne of God with the saints of heaven. We certainly thank God for him.