Reverend fathers, ladies and gentlemen.
It might be appropriate to begin with the first praise Richard ever received.
Richard’s Soldier’s Release Book, stamped with the date of 9th February 1948 when Richard was just 21 and had done his bit in restoring democracy to Western Europe, gives an insight into Richard the Soldier. In it, the officer commanding his unit had written:
“The above named NCO has been employed as Chief Clerk. His work has at all times been excellent. He is quick, accurate, painstaking and very willing. I have every confidence in recommending him for any position requiring initiative, loyalty trustworthiness and honesty. In all respects an excellent man”.
After being told in his Jesuit school that “No good will ever come of him…” it is not hard to see why Richard liked the army so much and after his subsequent ordination to the priesthood thirteen years later, served for many years as an army chaplain eventually gaining a Territorial Decoration. And being a Salvatorian for nearly half a century in a variety of ministries he has certainly needed initiative, loyalty trustworthiness and honesty.
I first met Richard in 1979 about the time I was engaged to Helen who had met Richard when he was Chaplain and senior lecturer at Mary Ward College, a teacher training college in Nottingham, in 1970.
It is very difficult to talk about a man who was first and foremost a great and gifted communicator. One of his parishioners recently told me what an amazing experience it was for the congregation to hear sermons that actually contained jokes – and jokes that genuinely made them laugh. Richard had that rare gift of touching people’s lives and making a difference for the good. The vast number of cards, emails, letters and phonecalls from all over the world over the last two months testify to this. Those professionals who supported him in the last weeks – from the Palliative Care Team, Bristol Royal Infirmary, the District Nurses and others – all expressed a sense of the privilege they felt it to be to support such a rare person. A number of the letters and emails recounted personal experiences of how Richard had brought them to Christ. In fact, Richard’s newsletter when he was Chaplain at Keele from 1985 to 1993 was called The Matchmaker. This title didn’t refer to his role as a one-man marriage agency – though there are married couples around the globe who met through Richard and many of them were married by him. The Matchmaker referred to Richard’s role as he saw it: matchmaking between his students and Christ. And in this he was outstandingly successful.
Superficially his method was very straightforward. His chaplaincy or his presbytery was a home from home rather than a theological debating society for all his students and parishioners. Feed them. Make them comfortable and at ease and they will want to come back. Care for them, and they will learn how to care for others.
I remember on one visit, I think to Ystradgynlais in South Wales, Richard asked my three year old son what he thought a priest was. Matthew thought about this and then came up with a definition that really pleased Richard. He said a priest was a man who prays and cooks. Richard really liked the idea of a priest ministering to the spiritual and material needs of his people – though I’m not quite sure that was what Matthew might have said at the time. Those who attended Richard’s amazing Sunday Masses and lunches at the cottage in Keele will know all about the praying and cooking!
But of course there was a powerful driving force beneath the praying and cooking: Richard made people feel, made them know, they were important to him, and also important to God.
However, Richard was not perfect. (He was, after all, an Everton supporter).
Also, he could be very stressfully precise. On one occasion last month when he was back in Chew Magna from the hospital he asked my wife Helen for a glass of water.
Certainly, she said and brought it.
Could I have it in that other glass – you know, my favourite one?
Certainly, she said and brought it.
Could I have some ice in it?
Certainly, she said and brought it.
I think there’s a bit too much in that glass, could you pour some out?
Certainly, she said and brought it.
Actually, you could put a bit more in it.
At this point Helen said: “Richard would you like to drink this water - or wear it?”
With a pained and non-comprehending expression Richard said I thought you were supposed to be caring for me? And then he really did laugh.
Fr Peter has quoted already one of Richard’s characteristic sayings “You’ve gorra laugh”. Another that I guess we’ve all heard was the phrase “fair do’s” – an untranslatable term really, that summed up Richard’s acceptance of whatever life had thrown at him. We all know that life threw a very considerable challenge at him in 1991 when he was very ill in hospital in Stoke having had two operations in quick succession to deal with an infection in a heart valve, and then to stop the bleeding. Richard always saw the time after this as a special gift from God. In the remaining 16 years of his life he finished his stint as Chaplain at Keele University, served his Society as Provincial for six years and was Parish Priest in Chew Magna, Somerset for the last eight years.
The concept of retirement was totally alien to him: he was, after all, still
working as a parish priest at the age of 81. However, just before his cancer was diagnosed, he had told his parishioners that he intended to leave Chew Magna this summer. Following the publication of the famous “Bless and Tell”, his plan was to write another book called, with Richard’s characteristic wit, “Prayerobics – the Spiritual Exercises of Fr Richard”. Some chapters had already been written and the flavour of these might be deduced from the titles; Chapter 1, for example, is entitled “Spiritual Fruit or Religious Nut”. I hope that in time at least some of this draft work can be published on the internet.
Another example of the way in which Richard kept on keeping on was his time in Bristol Royal Infirmary following the surgery. He was very poorly indeed, with five days on a High Dependency Ward where he learned that his invasive surgery to remove a tumour had not been successful and where for nearly two weeks his system shut down and surgeons were not optimistic that he would recover post-operatively. Yet, he showed great determination to recover because he honestly felt he had another chapter of life to offer to us all. He began to respond to treatment and even during this very difficult time, he counselled two people; dealt with several enquiries about Catholicism; and heard one confession. Six days before he died, although he was by then very weak, he was motivated to attend the annual parish lunch for a short while in the village of Ubley, to meet for one last time with his faithful and devoted parishioners. It took a great effort of will on his part to manage this as he was by this time wheelchair-bound and was in the final stages of the disease.
So there were good moments even in those last weeks such as the chats with a few sips of his favourite gin and tonic, (with just the right amount of lemon, of course!) He celebrated half a dozen or so Masses in his living room, seated on a chair or the bed. After one of these, Helen said I think that’s taken a lot out of you, Richard. No, he replied, it’s put something into me.
We saw him grow in acceptance of what was happening and he came to associate what he was suffering with the sufferings of our Saviour Jesus Christ. Richard’s illness and death, like his long, vigorous and creative life was an eloquent homily on faith, hope and love. He showed great faith, and eventually said that he was ready to go as he knew his work was over and so he gave himself up to prayer and preparation, but still with good humour and great concern for those he knew would be left behind.
All of us here know bits of Richard, different parts of his life and different moments of contact with him. All these encounters are like the pieces of a mosaic and none of us has the complete picture. But there are some qualities of our great friend stamped on all those pieces: his dedication in supporting those who came to him needy or distressed, his commitment as a Salvatorian to our Saviour, Jesus Christ, and his belief that the love of God was there for all of us.
The prayer of St Richard of Chichester sums up Richard’s striving thought his whole life: to know Jesus more clearly, to love Him more dearly and to follow Him more nearly.
Richard’s life as a priest has touched all of us and he has friends all over the world who feel his loss terribly and we are joined with them today in prayer and celebration for his amazing and wonderful life. But we must not forget in our own grieving that Richard was a Salvatorian priest and his brothers in Christ here, and in other communities around the world are also feeling his loss. Let us remember them in our own prayers, thanking God and ask Him to send them more priests to carry on their work of service and evangelisation as Richard has done.
In all respects this excellent man, our friend, guide, mentor, Richard Sullivan, has fought the good fight and run the race to the finish; he has kept the faith and we pray for him to receive the crown of righteousness reserved for him.
Many thanks to Mike Whitty for allowing us to include his eulogy in the blog.
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