Henry Poole "Why Me?" Talk for the 25th of February - Second Sunday of Lent

Be a little careful if a friendly priest approaches you after a service: it might lead to something more taxing than a discussion about the weather.  In my case, it was an invitation to speak here on “Why me”.  My protestations of being unworthy were swept away, “All of us are unworthy”.  My eyes glazed over in fear when I was sent a file of what others have said before me at this church.  Nevertheless, I accepted the invitation because “Why me” is a wonderful brief: you have a licence to say what you want, but the shortness of the title and the strict limitation of the time allotted forces you to get to the point. 

I was christened in the tiny Cornish village of Golant on the Fowey River shortly after my birth in September 1949 and from September 1957 to December 1967 had intensive exposure to religion at boarding school.  We worshipped twice a day every day of the week and had weekly religious instruction; we heard some stirring sermons and sang some wonderful hymns, not least Bishop Walsham How’s For all the saints who from their labours rest. 

Even so, when I went up to read History at Trinity Hall, Cambridge in 1968 my faith wavered and had almost disappeared by the time I started in the city on 4 October 1971 as a trainee analyst with rather a high opinion of himself.   In fairness, most of us graduates aspired to the heights, some even thinking of one day becoming Prime Minister.

My faith remained almost dormant until I started living in Kensington in 1982, when much to my surprise I felt drawn to go to church again.  I started worshiping at St. George’s in the last days of the Rev. Mr. Wilmington’s tenure and that led to us going as a family.  By then Peter Myles had taken over and it was the beginning of a lifelong friendship between our two families.  Forty years or so on the Poole connection with this benefice continues.

Getting back into contact with the Church of England went against the grain of my entrenched traditional instincts, which were founded on love for the King James Bible and the Book of Common Prayer.   It was the more surprising as my life seemed complete. I was a partner in a city firm of stockbrokers, happily married with two children; a third, our son was born in 1983.  I was one of the fortunate who benefited from the seismic changes brought about by Margaret Thatcher and in the main so were our circle of friends.

I have also been fortunate that since leaving the city in 2004, I found a niche as a consultant, which took me up to April 2023, when I retired and turned to new challenges.  Not the least of these is Misty our 42 kilogramme Leonberger puppy, who came to the last pet blessing service here.

Why have I stayed in contact with the Church?   It offers a message of hope.  As a character I loathe received wisdom from experts who have analysed the problem and devised the solution and gravitate to people with fresh, new, and original ideas.   Somebody said it couldn’t be done was the title of the best memoire I have read from a businessman.  I worked for a city firm beneath the top tier, where we had to fight for airtime rather than simply harvest an established position.  In turn that was what kept me going as an independent consultant subsequently. Life has taught me that there is always a way forward however dark and threatening the scenario. 

Let us start off with Lent.  Some people think of it as hunkering down to austerity after a final binge on Shrove Tuesday with those who perceive themselves to be in the fast lane making much of all the luxuries that they have given up.  For me the magical moment during Lent is singing that wonderful hymn Forty days and forty nights, when after the first three verses of gloom, you are suddenly uplifted by the change of mood and tempo in the last two verses, which bring in cheer and sunlight. 

I am always moved by the Christmas broadcast of King Geroge VI in the terrifying circumstances of 1939, when he quoted the poet Minnie Haskins, “And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, ‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown’ and he replied: ‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way’”. 

I am inspired by the passage in Lord Hailsham’s memoirs A sparrow’s flight about his grief following the tragic death of his wife Mary after a riding accident in Australia.  “I continued to pray, to go to church, to attend communion.  I did not suffer less thereby, but I was conscious that, had I not followed these disciplines, I would have suffered even more, because I would have despaired of the nature of things and not merely suffered from the course of events”.   

I also find comfort in these words from the bidding prayer at the King’s College, Cambridge service of Nine Lessons and Carols on Christmas Eve, “Lastly, let us remember before God all those who rejoice with us, but upon another shore, and in a greater light ...”.  It tells me that beyond the grave there is hope and that is all I want to know. 

Coming down from the Olympian heights, may I draw your attention to My early life by Winston Churchill, which was published in 1930, when the great man was out of office and in financial trouble.  Words written when one is at a low ebb can cut though to reality and the book is full of sound common sense and humour.    One passage describes the hardships of riding lessons when he joined the 4th Hussars.  The riding master was in bad humour after being ridiculed in an advertisement “Professor of equitation.  Hunting taught in twelve lessons: steeple chasing in eighteen”.  I think the humour of this advertisement gives a glimpse of how easy it is to misconstrue the aspiration of trying to be a Christian.  It is not a formulaic process that can be learned and mastered: it is a long, hard painful road where we all stumble, but from my side I would say “don’t give up!”

Going back to my childhood in Cornwall I remember one of my mother’s closest friends explaining why she went to church especially at times when she was desperately busy, “If I make the effort and go, I find myself streets ahead”. 

It is a great privilege to be asked to speak in this church, because its existence today is about the triumph of the human spirit against the odds.  You have defied the inexorable pressure towards rationalisation and closure under the constriction of falling numbers and financial stringency.  I am humbled by what you have achieved here.

I am also conscious of how fortunate we are in the leadership of this benefice, especially when weighing us against the countryside where one priest may be responsible for half a dozen parishes.  Here we have a substantial team who come from very different paths in life.  Each of them has helped me and so have their predecessors.  I thank them all.