St Chads Stafford
Panegyric

Kenneth John Rider R.I.P. 29th December 2008

 

Homily given at the Funeral Mass in St. Chad’s Church, Stafford, 9th January 2009

 

 

John 14.6: ‘Jesus said, I am the way, the truth and the life; no—one comes to the Father except through me’.

 

 

So there you have it. All religions are not fundamentally the same, in spite of what the current relativist pick—and—mix mind—set would have us believe. The Christian Faith is based, uniquely, upon the conviction that God, the creator of all that is, became a part of his creation through the birth of Jesus Christ. That is the event which we celebrated a few days ago, at Christmas. But now we move on, through the Season of Epiphany as his identity is revealed, first in the visit of the Magi with their symbolic gifts of gold for a great king, frankincense for the true God, myrrh for his burial. Then comes Our Lord’s baptism, when the descent of the Holy Spirit reveals him as the Son of God; and the miracle at Cana in Galilee which manifests his divine power to transform and make all things new. In the Gospel passage which we have just heard, Thomas the Apostle receives his own personal Epiphany when Jesus says to him, ‘I am the way, the truth and the life’; and through the Gospel he says it to all of us today. Thomas may well be remembered in the popular mind as ‘doubting’ Thomas, but remember this also: if Thomas had not put his question to Jesus - ‘Lord we do not know where you are going, so how can we know the way?’ - He would not have received those words of revelation, ‘I am the way, the truth and the life’.

 

This is the faith that was the mainspring of Ken Rider’s life, and which sustained him through sickness and death; and it is in the light of that revealed truth, and with those tremendous words of Jesus ringing in our ears that we commend the soul of Deacon Kenneth John Rider into the hands of God, assist him with our prayers, and, in the face of death, proclaim the Gospel of Christ and the faith of the Church. We come also to offer our love and comfort to his wife Sue, to their son and daughter David and Mary Ann, and their families, and to give thanks to God for a remarkable life that has influenced for good the lives of a great many others.

 
That the object and purpose of a Christian funeral should need any explanation at all is a comment upon the progressive secularisation of funeral rites in recent years; a process from which the Church itself is not immune. A funeral which is described merely as ‘a celebration of the life of the departed’ might do for a secular humanist, but it will not do for a Christian, because it implies either a finality — it’s over, and that’s all there is to it — or that the life of the deceased was so perfect that he or she stands in no need of redemption. Neither of these reflects the teaching of Holy Church, built firmly upon Sacred Scripture, about death and resurrection; judgment and the life of the world to come.
 
Today we have brought Deacon Kenneth’s coffin into this church which he so dearly loved and so faithfully served, and laid it to rest at mid—point between nave and sanctuary. His journey through earthly life ended, he lies at the foot of the great rood; the emblem of our redemption, while beyond — represented here by the altar and its glorious surroundings — lies heaven towards which he continues his journey. There is a ‘now’ and there is a ‘not yet’; and it is all beautifully expressed in 1662 Prayer Book Order for Holy Communion: the concluding part of the Prayer for the Church:

 

‘....We (also) bless thy holy Name for all thy servants departed this life in thy faith and fear; beseeching thee to give us grace so to follow their good examples that with them we may be made partakers of thy heavenly kingdom..’

 

So in this morning’s service we praise God for his servant Ken, ‘departed this life in his faith and fear’; we pray for grace to discern and to follow the good example of Christian life and service that he has given us, and we look forward to the time when the whole Church, living and departed in Christ, will receive perfection as all things are made new in the glory of heaven. And we do all of this within the context of the Mass, that living memorial in which the sacrifice of Christ is made present for his people on earth, where in a moment we are joined ‘with angels, archangels, and all the company of heaven’, and where fullest expression is given to the ancient Christian conviction that the living and the dead remain in communion with one another within the one Body of Christ who is the Way, the Truth and the Life.

 
Ken Rider lived to no great age, and so much that he and Sue had planned for later life goes unfulfilled; yet it is also the case that Ken packed into those sixty—seven years such a breathtaking range of activities as to leave those who knew him wondering just how he managed it all. Much as we would wish that he had remained among us for longer, there is a progression, a unity and a completeness about his life which reached its apogee with his ordination to the diaconate, and with all that he was able to give to that ministry for however short a time.
 
Ken Rider was born and educated in Bristol. After leaving school he worked as a surveyor for Ordnance Survey in Southampton where he quite literally made his mark by placing the symbol for a telephone kiosk in the middle of a marsh. It was meant as a joke, but the non­existent kiosk actually appeared on the printed and published version of the map. After a period in the City Architect’s Department back in Bristol Ken headed off to the South Wales coalfield as a mining surveyor and inspector. His time in South Wales was important too for his spiritual development. After what can only be described as a conversion experience, Ken joined the Baptist Church, and became a lay—preacher, doing the rounds of the various chapels and learning enough of the language to enable him to say some of the Welsh prayers with impeccable pronunciation, and to sing some of the rousing Welsh hymns in their original language. More recently, on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, Ken and Fr. Brian Whatmore of St. Austin’s burst forth into the hymn CalonLan to the astonishment of those around them, until they explained that the Welsh were none other than the Lost Tribe of Israel. Ken never lost his early love of Wales, and this was among the reasons he chose to take his Theology degree at the University of South Glamorgan, and last year to register for a Ph.D. at St. David’s College, Lampeter
 
After his time in the Welsh coalfields, Ken had a total career change when he began psychiatric nurse training at the Barrow and Glenside Hospitals in Bristol. It was there that he met Sue, and in 1965 they were married in the Jesuit Church of St. Mary-on-the-Quays. From active nursing, Ken moved into the education and management side of the profession, becoming a registered nurse tutor, first in Doncaster, and then in Stafford where eventually he was appointed Director of Nurse Education for the Mid-Staffordshire Health Authority. After retirement he was head—hunted by Allied Medicare to undertake medico—legal work, and quality control.
 
Out of working hours Ken was an active freemason. a raconteur with an inexhaustible fund of anecdotes and amusing stories; a campanologist whose enthusiasm took him on tower-grabs and ringing tours all over the country and overseas; a lover of English Church music who thought nothing of going to choral services in three different cathedrals on the same day, and who managed to fulfil his ambition of attending choral evensong in every cathedral in the United Kingdom. He was a collector of ecclesiastical antiques and church—furnishings, known affectionately as ‘Uncle Ken’s Travelling Tat Show’; a bibliophile whose private theological library and antiquarian collection would be the envy of many an Oxbridge scholar, and whose love of books led him to do a course in bookbinding and conservation. The illustration on the front of your service—sheet is taken from the third edition of John Purchas’s Directorium Anglican urn , a significant 19th-century ecclesiological work which Ken acquired in a dilapidated condition, expertly repaired it, and then kindly gave it to me. I chose that illustration for today because it shows a deacon assisting at the Mass: a graphic reminder that the service of the altar is the mainstay of the deacon’s ministry, as it is also for those of bishop and priest.
 
Ken’s passion for railways is well-known: a mine of information about timetables, about railway lines past and present; a seasoned railway traveller who thought nothing of taking a day—return to Aberdeen (which was, I think his final railway excursion); while his collection of model locomotives would make any schoolboy’s mouth water. He travelled the Trans­ Siberian Railway in days when conditions were, to say the least, basic; and having asked for a fish sandwich was given just that: a fish between two pieces of bread with the head sticking out of one end and the tail out of the other.
 
The details of these, and many more of Ken’s other interests and activities, I will leave for another occasion — the Memorial Service which is planned for later in the year - and more immediately for reminiscence at the gathering over at the Swan Hotel after this service. For now, I want to concentrate on the driving force that lay behind Ken’s remarkable life; the cement that bound it all together, - his lively faith and his commitment to the service of Christ and his Church.

 

After his earlier ministry as a Baptist lay-preacher, Ken was drawn into the Anglican Church, and towards its Catholic tradition; immersing himself in the study of the seventeenth—century divines and the leaders of the nineteenth—century Oxford Movement. He was utterly convinced that the Church of England was truly Catholic in its basic formularies, its liturgy and sacraments, and its continuation of the orders of bishop, priest and deacon as the Undivided Church had received them. After moving to Stafford in 1973, Ken started to attend St. Chad’s. By the mid—1970s, however, this church was in a state of decline following the death of its last full—time incumbent in 1969, and with a dwindling elderly congregation. There were those who believed that St. Chad’s was destined for closure, and indeed there were some who wanted to hasten its demise; but Ken had different ideas, and he was one of a small but determined group who spearheaded the revival of St. Chad’s as a centre of Catholic Anglican worship, teaching and mission. An early manifestation of this was the reinstatement of the patronal festival - St. Chad’s Day — on March 2nd each year. ‘Chadfest’ as Ken named it, would begin with Choral Evensong on the Vigil, Solemn Matins on the following morning, followed by High Mass with some distinguished visiting preacher; Vespers and Benediction held later in the afternoon, and Compline sung to round it all off in the evening: all advertised, at Ken’s own expense, in the Church Times. Ken even produced his own hymn—book for such occasions. Printed under the title of Chadfest Hymnal it contains forty-two hymns reflecting the breadth of his knowledge and resourcefulness: from evangelical pot—boilers such as

 

‘Soldier rouse thee! War is raging,

 

God and fiends are battle waging:’

 

— to solidly Catholic ones such as ‘Faith of our Fathers’. It is from that collection that four of today’s hymns have been chosen.

 
Here at St. Chad’s Ken functioned variously as chorister, server, lay—reader, MC, and subdeacon. His training of servers was meticulous and thorough. Not even the clergy were spared Ken’s sharply—whispered liturgical directions; ‘stand’, ‘sit’, ‘kneel’, which proved that Barbara Wodehouse training methods were as applicable in the sanctuary as they were in the show-ring. The church was enriched by items given or loaned from Ken’s private collection: the six candlesticks on the rood-beam which he liberated (I know not how) from the chapel of Parkhurst Prison; the beautiful statue of the Madonna and Child in the side—chapel, which came from Upholland College; the set of gold High Mass vestments for major feasts and festivals, the monstrance and exposition throne for the rite of Benediction.

 

But — as Ken well understood — we are mistaken if we imagine that Catholicism is all to do with matters of ceremonial, with ‘ornaments of the church and of the ministers thereof’. These are but the outer walls which guard the central truths and disciplines of the Faith. If we try to make our church beautiful it is because it is the presence—chamber of him who is God above all, but who chooses to come among us. We reverence the altar because it is his throne. We bend the knee before the Blessed Sacrament because therein is his Real Presence. We love Blessed Mary because she is his Mother. We honour the saints because we can see in their characters a pale reflection of his infinite holiness. We make the Mass our chief act of worship because it is his service, given to us on the night before he suffered as a perpetual commemoration of his saving death, and the means by which he dwells among us to the end of time. Catholic worship, as Ken succeeded in reviving it here, is a living witness to the unshakable conviction that Jesus Christ is truly God: the Way, the Truth and the Life. His concern for the correct performance of the liturgy was undergirded by his private devotional life, his recitation of the Daily Office, his systematic study of the Sacred Scriptures, his rich diet of theological reading, and his pilgrimages to holy places such as Glastonbury and the Shrines of Our Lady at Lourdes, Walsingham and Egmanton.

 
Ken’s scholarship and profound knowledge were gladly and generously shared with others, through participation in organisations such as the Guild of the Servants of the Sanctuary, the Prayer Book Society, the Ebbsfleet Lay Congress and the College of Readers; and through powerful and inspirational preaching. Individuals too benefited from Ken’s spiritual insights, listening skills, and wise counsels. For a time in the 1980s Ken sat as a member of the House of Laity in the General Synod of the Church of England, and only a few weeks ago he was appointed secretary of the Deanery Clergy Chapter.

 

Though rooted firmly in the Anglican Catholic tradition, Ken had a broad ecumenical outlook. He was for a time Secretary of Churches Together in Stafford; he was deeply interested in the Eastern Orthodox Church, and had, not long before his death, registered for a PhD in Orthodox Studies. He had great respect for the Roman Catholic Church, most of whose teachings he shared in any case, and being married to Sue who was and is an active member of that Church. Ken became a familiar figure at St. Austin’s; he would join in their annual pilgrimage to Walsingham, and attend meetings of their Walsingham Association. He was greatly excited by the substantial progress towards visible unity achieved in the 1980s through the work of the Anglican/Roman Catholic International Commission, and he was deeply distressed when this progress was halted on account of the Church of England’s unfortunate habit of kicking the ball between its own goal—posts.

 
The potential for creating fresh obstacles along the path of unity, and further divisions within the Anglican Church itself, were among the reasons why Ken opposed the ordination of women to the priesthood, an innovation which he believed to be contrary to Catholic Order, and one which a provincial synod had no authority to make. After General Synod took that decision in 1992 Ken found it necessary to withdraw from active ministry, attending St. Chad’s simply as a member of the congregation, while he considered his future. However, the Episcopal Act of Synod, and the establishment of the sees of Ebbsfleet, Beverley and Richborough, created structures in which the Traditional Integrity of Holy Order might be preserved and perpetuated. So Ken resumed his duties, and indeed added to them by becoming an assistant lay chaplain at Stafford Prison. He also undertook a B.A. degree course, gaining a Class II (i) degree in Biblical Theology after a six—year part—time course involving the study of Greek and Hebrew, and hampered by the onset of diabetes. It was at this time that Ken felt drawn towards the ordained ministry, specifically to the permanent diaconate. That a man of Ken’s intellectual capacity, experience and spirituality should initially have been turned down says rather more about the bishop’s selection panel than it does about Ken; but thankfully the diocesan bishop saw fit to set their decision aside, enabling Ken to begin training for Ordained Local Ministry. He was

ordained deacon at Lichfield at Michaelmas 2007, and this was followed by a Mass of Welcome here at St. Chad’s at which Bishop Andrew presided and vested Ken in his diaconal stole and dalmatic: a very visible demonstration of that special relationship between deacon and bishop which goes back to the days of the apostles. Many people were surprised and indeed perplexed that Ken was to remain permanently in deacon’s orders. ‘Why isn’t he going on’? was a frequently—asked question. But Ken believed that he had been called to the office and work of a deacon, and that he also had a mission to help re—establish the diaconate as a distinctive and valued ministry in its own right, and not merely a stepping stone to something else. The fact that those questions became less frequent may be taken as a measure of his success in this respect, while the job—description that Ken wrote for himself fell little short of what one might expect of a full—time stipendiary minister in terms of pastoral and liturgical duties, preaching and teaching. Though based at St. Chad’s, he was very much the parish deacon, officiating in all of the five churches of the Stafford Team, where — to the surprise of some - clergy of differing traditions and views , and under different episcopal jurisdictions, are able to work together, pray together, and enjoy one another’s company; and Ken, as we all know, was very good company.

 
Shortly after his ordination, Ken was diagnosed with lung cancer. The treatment appeared to be successful, and early in 2008 he was back on duty. Among the memorable things from this time was his Lent Course on St. Matthew’s Gospel, and his series of devotional addresses at Compline on the Thursdays of Lent. Meanwhile he was laying plans for the development of town—centre ministry and extending the role of St. Chad’s as the Church’s shop-window on the main Street.

 

By the beginning of December it was known that the cancer had returned, and the rest of the story we know only too well. Ken died very peacefully in Katharine House Hospice on 29th December - the memorial of St. Thomas of Canterbury - fortified by the Rites of the Church, and surrounded by his family. It has to be said that throughout an extraordinarily busy life, Ken was a devoted and loving husband, father and grandfather, who was always there to support his family to whom we extend our love and sympathy today, as well as sharing in their loss which is also ours.

 

‘Lord, we do not know where you are going, so how can we know the way?’ Thomas the Apostle was not afraid to put his question, and neither should we as we wrestle with the issues of life and death. And wrestling is no bad image to use, whether we think of the patriarch Jacob quite literally wrestling with the unseen stranger at the ford of the river Jabbok, or the Psalmist demanding of a seemingly dispassionate God, ‘Get up, Lord, why have you gone to sleep’ (44.23). Doing theology necessarily involves questioning; and doing theology is not confined to those who take it to degree level. It can be an ordinary, everyday experience for anyone. It happens in the confrontation between our Faith and the world as it is that goes on in our hearts when we pray or when we reflect upon some passage of Scripture; or look out into this living, busy world as the Venerable John Henry Newman did in his time of darkness, and could see no reflection of its Creator. But with questioning there comes enlightenment; and St. Thomas received his answer: ‘I am the way, the truth and the life’, as Newman did, and as Ken did in that moment of personal revelation which altered the course of his life all those years ago. And thanks be to God, who gives us the victory, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

 
Fr. Michael Fisher