Fr Gresham Kirkby was the vicar of St Paul's, Bow Common, a church in east London, for over 40 years until his retirement in 1994. I first went there around 1991, and so I only knew him in his later years. He died in 2006 aged 89 years.
Vicarage Life
I was also a lodger in Fr Gresham's vicarage. I can picture
him from that time, seated on a wooden chair in the living room during the day
with the Bible open in his hands. He thought we should read the Scriptures
more.
He hardly watched television. A small black & white set
was stowed away somewhere. You had to bring it out and plug it in if you wanted
to watch something. And he didn't get a daily newspaper; only the Observer on a
Sunday. Nor did Fr Gresham listen to the radio. There wasn't one in the vicarage
so when the women's ordination debate was to be broadcast live, a 'music
centre' was brought in from the jumble sale stock in the church hall and tuned
in to the correct station. But he hadn't requested this. Nor did he make a fuss
when it appeared. He did settle down to follow the proceedings, though.
I happened to be in the vicarage living
room once when another priest was also present, and Fr Gresham made a joking
remark related to preparations for an anniversary mass at which a number of priests were to be present. The quip relied on an Old Testament
reference. I understood that much, but I didn't get it. The other clergyman was
wanting to go along with the jest, but I don't think he got it either. But Fr
Gresham was in a good humour; it didn't matter.
Sunday mass at St Paul's, Bow Common
At mass Fr Gresham would give his homily in a plain,
straightforward way. He didn't try to sway or lull the congregation. It seemed
to me his focus was on the teaching he wanted to convey. He would sometimes
direct his gaze at the ceiling as he spoke.
He could be humourous though. I remember one instance,
though it's not exactly funny. He said something in a sermon and then he added,
with a twinkle in his eye, "Pace, Mrs Thatcher" ('pace' - the Latin
word for 'peace', pronounced 'par-chay'). Because she was then in office and
his remark might have troubled her political ideas.
He could be angry also. Once in a sermon I saw his eyes
seem to burn as he spoke about the school photocopier being broken due, maybe,
to vandalism. (He used to make copies of his hand-written Sunday
mass-and-notices sheet on the school photocopier.) His words and demeanour,
however, were orderly. But they were given power by his disapprobation, which
seemed to be aimed at misbehaviour in general, with the air that 'let anyone
who would be naughty take note', and would indeed have been chastening if you
had done anything wrong.
He didn't sit down briefly after the sermon to let it sink
in, as happens often now. However, sometimes a solid silence would stand in the
church for a few moments after his words. That was something that struck
me.
The music for the mass was from a tape machine operated by
one of the congregation. Fr Gresham would have played and recorded this music
on the church organ during the previous week, ready for the Sunday
Eucharist.
I was an altar server at St Paul's, Bow Common. When I was
clearing away, in the emptying church, after mass on a Sunday morning, I would
see Fr Gresham kneeling, immersed in prayer, before the reserved Blessed
Sacrament. Then he would join the others in the hall.
Almost all the small congregation stayed for refreshments
after the service. One of the faithful parishioners, Isabelle Rowe, used to
bring slices of buttered home-made bread and I found this better than biscuits
to go with your tea or coffee.
Some Talk
Then, for a few years in his retirement, I would pay a
weekly social visit to Fr Gresham at his Church alms house in Islington. We
would have a beer; Fr Gresham one can, and me two. We would also have fish and
chips, taken out of the freezer and cooked in the oven by me, followed by a
banana. Then we would watch the 6pm news on the BBC, and then the television
would go off, and there would be a cup of coffee and talk. Sometimes I would
bring a parish magazine I had picked up from one of London's Anglo-Catholic
churches. I would ask some question or other, which Gresham would answer from
his knowledge and experience.
He would typically quote what someone else had written,
said or done, more often than he would give his own views. As an example,
during a conversation I asked how Christ's crucifixion overcame evil? He said
that was a hard question, then spoke about a verse in Gabriel Gillett's hymn
"It is finished" that addresses this. He would always give you a
helpful answer, even if your question had stumbled a bit, and would move things
along, if needed.
My visits to Fr Gresham in Islington were full of interest.
So I used to write up, on the way home, often at Liverpool Street station
before catching the train, what I remembered of his conversation. I wanted to
learn from it. I never told him about this diary writing. This account here
uses those notes, together with memories of that time. He often spoke about the
same things on different occasions.
What Others Said
At a service at St Paul's, Bow Common in 2007, the Bishop
of London, the Right Reverend Richard Chartres, said, "I utterly repudiate
that Fr Gresham Kirkby was a charming eccentric. That is to trivialise
him." He quoted a local priest to whom Fr Gresham went for confession.
"John Pearce said that Gresham was the holiest priest he knew,"
announced Bishop Richard who, as the suffragan Bishop of Stepney, used to go to
the early mass on Tuesday mornings at St Paul's, Bow Common.
Bishop Richard also said, "It is hard to see the shape
of the new Kingdom; Heaven transforming this present Earth to bring it about.
But we should assay a sketch of it. This in turn may help others to more
perfectly bring in the new Kingdom." He added, "Fr Kirkby looked over
the horizon, and this kept him fresh even when he was ancient".
In another sermon at a mass for the 50th anniversary of the
church of St Paul's, Bow Common in April 2010, Bishop Richard remembered Fr
Gresham testifying that, "To me the Kingdom of God is the great existing
reality which is to renew the Earth."
In his tribute, Fr Ken Leech explained that Fr Gresham
preferred to be addressed as 'Fr Kirkby' or 'Gresham', rather than Fr Gresham.
I wasn’t aware of this and don’t now remember how I addressed him. But I hope
'Fr Gresham' is ok here in print.
I remember Terry Dible, a long-standing parishioner, altar
server, and church warden, calling him 'Gresh' sometimes and 'Father'
('Farv-ver', in the east London way) at other times. It was Terry Dible who
confided his view that Fr Gresham, who had just recovered from a hospital stay
for a new knee, was "a tough old bird".
A Late and Humourous Scene
Towards the end of his life, in June 2006, I was visiting
Fr Gresham at his Islington home when the lady from next-door called in to see
how he was getting on. He answered, "I think this is the end for me, I
feel so heavy. I'm dying, my dear. Face up to facts. My girlfriend died at 90
years of age." And there, propped up on a shelf, was a fading
postcard-sized photo of a young boy and girl, both about 8 years old and
dressed in finery, taken when they danced together in Cornwall at some great
occasion. It was a picture of Fr Gresham with the childhood girlfriend to whom
he was referring. He remained single and strictly celibate: she married and had
recently died.
An international football tournament was in progress and
that evening England were due to play Trinidad and Tobago. Quite a few St
George's flags, with their red crosses on white backgrounds, were draped from
the first-floor window-ledges of nearby terraced houses. The locals were
backing England, of course. So the neighbour asked Gresham if he had his
England flag ready for the big game.
He replied, "A plague on all their houses. I'm
Cornish. I support Trinidad and Tobago. David should beat Goliath." Then
he placed his hands together and raised them to his chin in a take-off of
petitionary prayer, and intoned in a mock-pious way, "O Lord, please send
Trinidad and Tobago a goal, Lord. Help them to win, Lord. O Lord, Trinidad has
suffered at the hands of Britain and the Empire. Help them now to smite the
enemy on its hindquarters, O Lord, send them a goal." Gresham was being
funny and making us laugh. And I am sure 'smiting on the hindquarters' comes in
the Old Testament somewhere?
He did die from cancer a day before his 90th birthday, less
than two months later.
Fr Gresham Kirkby, born August 11th 1916, died
August 10th 2006.
