Below is a piece I wrote some time ago. I guess now is the time to publish it...
David didn’t have a good start to his life. A few weeks after his birth in 1932, his
mother died of complications from the delivery.
His father John was heartbroken.
He had lost most of his friends in the trenches of the First World War and
was already a man of few words, but now he retreated further into himself,
which left Granny to bring David up.
She was a formidable woman who ruled the household with
absolute authority. She was one of those
strong working class Lancastrian women who had a matriarchal power which defied
any gender stereotype. And she was, to
all intents and purposes, David’s mum.
They were a proud working class family living in a terrace house
in Bolton, Lancashire together with their extended family. David’s father was a tram driver by day and
built wooden model yachts and radios in the evenings.
Things didn’t get any easier for David either. When he was two, he developed a severe ear
infection and was taken into hospital. In the days before antibiotics, they were soon told that there was nothing
that could be done and he was likely to die. Granny however, was having none of it. When the doctors had given up on him, she
took him home against medical advice, and in a supreme act of will, nursed him
back to life.
The trauma of the illness took its toll however. His hearing
loss was substantial and lifelong. He
didn’t speak again until he was 4 years old. When he did start to speak he had a speech
impediment and would say ‘Sh’ instead of ‘S’ – something which continued into
adult life.
Anyone else would have simply been happy that he could speak
again, but Granny didn’t give up there, pushing him into school and through
school, believing in him no matter what.
When he was 11, she made sure that he was given a place at
the Church Institute (now Canon Slade School) and he began to attend Bolton
Parish Church. This was his first
encounter with the Church, and it planted many seeds which would grow
later. He sang in the choir but also
loved the snooker halls opposite his school which resulted in him having to
re-sit his A-levels before being offered a place at Liverpool University to
study Physics. Coming from a working
class family in Lancashire, he was the first in his family to even dream of
going to University, and Granny must have been so proud. Her hard work had paid off.
It was in Liverpool that his faith grew and developed at the
Parish Church - Our Lady and St Nicholas.
He discovered the ritual and
spirituality of the Anglo-Catholic tradition.
When a visiting preacher said, “The question is not ‘Should you be
ordained?’ but rather ‘Why shouldn’t you?’” David knew God was calling him to
be a priest.
In his final year at University, he went to a selection conference, where his vocation to the priesthood was confirmed, but he
was thought to be too much of a ‘narrow minded scientist’ to go straight to
theological college. He was told to go
and spend a year ‘broadening his mind’. Working
in a bookshop was suggested to him but here David’s rebellious side kicked
in. Instead of finding a nice
comfortable bookshop in which to while away a year, he moved to Sheffield, joined the
Industrial Mission and got a manual job on the shop floor in one of the city’s
huge steelworks. There in the noise and
heat of heavy industry, he worked at living out his faith and calling at the
sharp end of working life.
His mind was broadened in more ways than one. Despite wondering if he was called to a
celibate life, he met Irene there. They
had a lot in common – they were both form working class households – both their
lives had been touched by a deeply rooted Anglo-Catholic vision of Christian faith
which embraced everyone in a deeply incarnational pattern of life – and both
felt called to the religious life. Irene
had been a novice at the Convent of St Mary the Virgin in Wantage, and about to
take her final vows when she had to return to Sheffield to care for her sick
mother. Her illness lasted for some
years and Irene never did realise her dream of returning to the convent for life.
At the end of his time in Sheffield, David went to St
Stephen’s House in Oxford (affectionately known as ‘Staggers’) to train for
ordination but Irene was never far from his thoughts.
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| David & Irene's Wedding |
One Wednesday in his second year, he went to
Arthur Couratin - his formidable college principal - and said “Irene is going
into hospital in Sheffield for an operation and I need to marry her straight
away.” In the heavily cloistered, exclusively
male environment of St Stephen’s House, he was more than a little surprised
when Arthur said “Well you better go and marry her then!” As far as we can tell, he was the first ever
student to marry during training at Staggers.
David phoned her on Thursday – having already arranged a
special licence for the wedding - to tell Irene that they “were going to be
married on Saturday – and could she get a wedding cake?” On Friday morning, Irene walked into Walsh’s
- the big department store in Sheffield - to order the cake. When she was asked for the date of the
wedding she said “tomorrow” which caused more than a little shock, but after
checking with the bakery, they accepted the order as long as she realised that
the icing might still be a little wet.
After the wedding, they were apart once more as David returned
to Oxford. Women were treated with great
suspicion at St Stephen’s House in those days – unless you were the principal’s sisters who
acted as chaperone on the few occasions when Irene was allowed to visit. Even though they were now married, Irene was
only allowed to see David in the presence of Arthur’s sisters and was not
allowed to stay at the college - having to sleep in a convent down the road
instead.
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| David's Ordination as Priest |
On 16th June 1957, David was ordained deacon in
Sheffield Cathedral, and went with Irene to Arbourthorne where he was to serve
his curacy. It was a large social
housing estate on the outskirts of Sheffield.
David’s ordained ministry had begun.
On his first Sunday, David was asked to read the Banns of
Marriage in the service. He picked up
the book and to his horror, he found that he had to read the Banns for “Silvia
Sissons, spinster of the parish of St Swithens”. The speech impediment from his childhood had
been an issue all his life. He had received
speech therapy at theological college, but this was a test that few would
relish.
Amazingly he read the Banns perfectly. The 4-year-old boy from a working class
terrace house who could hardly speak – and yet had become the first in his
family to go to University and had followed God’s call to ordination – found
that the God who had called him would not let him down.
