Archbishops and icecream

(Written 6/6/2011)

Choral Evensong at Portsmouth Cathedral tonight, for the interment of the ashes of our much-loved Bishop, Kenneth Stevenson. As with his funeral, there was a fair number of clergy from other dioceses, potentially leading to squabbles about who got to do what, but this time the incumbent of Lambeth Palace pulled rank and came along to do the actual interring. Yes, the Archbishop of Canterbury wanted to be involved, a mark of how respected and loved our Kenneth was in the religious community. That included the wider religious community, too, as there were several representatives of other faiths in the congregation, too.

Kenneth got leukaemia several years ago, fought it off twice, but then succumbed to pneumonia, eventually choosing to refrain from further treatment when it became clear that little, if anything, could be done to beat the pneumonia. The years spent staring death in the face and blowing raspberries at it gave him time to concentrate on two things - the Christian attitude to death, and planning every detail of his funeral and interment. Kenneth was a popular, and intellectual author of books about the journey of faith that Christians undertake, but many people regard his output of books, articles and sermons during the last few years of his life to be the finest them all. I'm no critic, and certainly no intellectual, but his reflections on the nature of death and what comes afterwards have made me think, persuaded me into new views, given me comfort and made me laugh.

I have written previously about my encounters with him, and how he showed me a way out of a deep hole I'd fallen into, with stern love and a belief in the essential goodness in all of us, so I won't revisit those rememberances. I'll simply say that Bishop Kenneth, in essence, was a loud and joyful noise - so much so, that when we sang the anthem "God Is Gone Up With A Triumphant Shout", Mum whispered to me "It's Kenneth set to music!"

The Dean of Chichester Cathedral gave the sermon, and sketched a fine portrait of the retired Bishop Ken he came to know. He was one of many who were at Kenneth's bedside on what was expected to be his last night in this world. Kenneth had taken Communion, been anointed with oil, and then, quite peacefully, fallen asleep. Everyone resigned themselves to the inevitable, gave thanks for a life well lived, and prayed for a gentle end.

At twenty past six the following morning Kenneth woke up, and started apologising profusely for still being here. Then he remembered - "It's Sunday! Have to celebrate Holy Eucharist!" The Mass was said, and Communion taken, the Host being bread from a patient's breakfast tray and Ribena from a vending machine. "And then," said the Dean, with a smile of great satisfaction, "It was champagne to the end." Kenneth loved champagne, he took a glass every day, even when he was very ill. The end came that Sunday - and it was gentle.

As I mentioned when recounting Bishop Kenneth's funeral, his detailed planning of that event included a glass of champagne for everyone who attended. Well, for his interment, he'd decided that we should all enjoy another of his pleasures, provided by one of his great friends.

Edward Minghella and his wife Gloria have been making icecream and screenwriters on the Isle of Wight for many years now. Their icecream is good, their screenwriter sons Anthony and Dominic are also good. The late Anthony, of course, won a Best Director Oscar for The English Patient. He also wrote Truly, Madly, Deeply, and the screenplay for The Talented Mr Ripley. Dominic wrote Doc Martin for ITV and Robin Hood for the BBC. It was Mr Minghella Senior's icecream that featured large after the interment, though.

Yes, after the service, we were all invited to enjoy a cornet of Bishop Ken's favourite Minghella confection - marzipan icecream. Had you walked into Portsmouth Cathedral a little after seven tonight, you would have found the Archbishop of Canterbury, assorted bishops and other clerics, officials of many religions, and a whole lot of other people who really, really liked Bishop Kenneth Stevenson... smiling, talking, and licking an icecream.

I tell you this. If, at my funeral or interment, my life could inspire one hundredth, one thousandth of the love and joyful daftness that graced our Cathedral tonight, I'd be honoured. I fully believe that God allows us to attend our own funerals, either to see the love that a well-lived life brings, or the paucity of feeling that attends a mean spirit. I believe, therefore, that Kenneth was with us, nudged by God into attendance with the words "After all, my friend - there'll be icecream!"

He was a lovely, lovely man.