The Revd Terry Challis writes:
IN HIS excellent obituary (Gazette, 1 May), Canon Paul Oestreicher says that Bishop Simon Barrington-Ward “did have a child-like simplicity not unlike Archbishop Michael Ramsey’s”. This comment reminded me of one of Simon’s endearing features, in that he was a great mimic.
I was fortunate to be a student at Crowther Hall in 1971-72. In 1972, there was a World Council of Churches conference at the Selly Oak Colleges, and some of the organisers toured the colleges to decide which accommodation should be allocated to the various delegates. In a memorable phrase, Simon summed it up as a case of “take up your cross and carry it to your five-star hotel”.
We used to have a communion service on Friday evenings which was attended by the college residents and visitors and friends. Around this time, many of the congregation were alarmed to hear an announcement that the Archbishop of Canterbury would be visiting the college to have a look around.
After the service, the Archbishop’s arrival was announced. A few minutes later, he entered the room. It turned out that it was none other than Simon, made up with copious amounts of cotton wool, with a convincing Ramsey-like voice.
The Revd Stewart Fyfe adds: I was sent to see Bishop Simon when studying for ordination at Ridley Hall. I presented myself at his house, only to find that he was out, having forgotten the engagement. It was an unlikely start to one of the most influential relationships of my life. Forgetting engagements, I discovered, was not uncharacteristic of a man who, at first glance, appeared to inhabit a different reality to most of us. Only when one came to know him did one realise that his was probably the greater and truer reality.
I had been dispatched to him because of some difficulties that I had in negotiating the transition from Church of Scotland to Church of England, not least the requirement to undergo a fresh confirmation, this time at the hands of a bishop. Simon, who spent much of his life in the Church of Scotland himself, was ideally placed to encourage me to see myself as a member of both Churches — “like the Queen”, he would add — and that I should open myself to as much grace from each as my humility would allow. To my enduring delight, Simon himself provided the bishoply hands to administer that grace at my (second) confirmation.
Some years later, he was responsible for saving my ministry. After an indiscretion in my curacy, I was on the verge of accepting a position back at my old law firm, when Simon and Jean came for a visit. When I told him that my shame prohibited me from ever again putting on the robes of priesthood, he replied simply, “My dear boy, why do you think they give us the robes? We all need covering. And you can’t really minister until you know that deeply.” I returned to ministry determined to work for Simon’s vision of the Church as “a kind of Sinners’ Anonymous”, in which we recognise our own sinfulness and stand only by grace.
Perhaps my most treasured moment was when my daughter, Olivia, in the full flush of her youthful obsession with the Narnia books, discovered that Simon had been mentored by C. S. Lewis. To hear him speak of Lewis as “Jack” and recount tales of how, on their walks, he had sent the swans flying from the river as he shouted out “No, no, no!” in correction of young Simon’s errant theology, was to land Olivia in a dreamland. To hear Simon reading Lewis was to transport one to Narnia itself. He patiently answered Olivia’s endless questions about the underlying theology, and, when she could not overcome her dismay at Susan’s ultimately falling entirely from Narnia, he kindly said, “Well, I think perhaps Jack might have got that bit wrong.”
The Revd Dr David Gosling adds: Bishop Simon’s theological supervisions took place in the rooms once occupied by C. S. Lewis in Magdalen College. In discussions, Simon pointed out the contemporary relevance of early heresies; I recall a twinkle in his eye as he mentioned Augustine’s admonition to “Love God and do as you like”, and his prayer “O God, give me chastity — but not yet.”
Later, I offered for service with the Church Missionary (now Mission) Society and spent a year at Crowther Hall, where he was now Principal. As part of the training programme, a group of us were attached to the Sparkbrook community centre and given the task of undertaking a social survey of this deprived inner-city part of Birmingham.
My job was to investigate refuse collection, and, in the evenings, I would sometimes sit with Simon and Jean looking at photographs of some of the most disgusting and foul-smelling bins imaginable. But the maintenance of a regular bin service was an urgent social need, and an important point of mission, as Simon was quick to recognise. Households which wanted to have nothing to do with any church would immediately open the door to anyone concerned about the state of their bins.
The Revd Dr Sam Cappleman adds: The Rt Revd Simon Barrington-Ward was a past Chair of the Lee Abbey Council for more than a decade until 1999, and a Vice-President of the Lee Abbey Movement until his death. He was involved with all parts of Lee Abbey: Devon, London, the Small Missional (Household) Communities, and our Friends. He is remembered and appreciated as a truly remarkable and godly man of both vision and action. We give thanks to God for Simon and his life and commitment to Lee Abbey and to the gospel which meant so much to him. May he rest in peace and rise in glory.
