I first arrived at HPC in September 1996. Sir Alan was preaching on the subject of the Blessed Virgin Mary. “I am always aware” he said, “that on this subject, I’m bound to offend someone. So I’ll just say what I think.” And he did, eloquently and wittily. He always did, although some people found his definitely patrician delivery somewhat offputting. At first he frightened the life out of me – I could never imagine calling him by his first name – but in private he put one instantly at ease. “Drink, dear boy? Never be too generous with the tonic.”
He was absolutely convinced that God is Love. He was in fact, inclined to universalism. This is the belief that everyone will be saved, come what may. Though at the same point where he believed that a God of Love would not be a God of condemnation, the trouble with universalism is that it completely negates the concept of Free Will. He thought purgatory was quite a sensible idea but he acknowledged it was all a mystery and that God knew what He was doing. After preaching at a neighbouring parish, a formidable Hampstead matron came up to him and said “Do you believe in Satan? Thought not.” She stormed off, leaving a rather bemused Sir Alan in her wake.
He twice reached the shortlist of The Times Preacher of the Year. He didn’t reach the final on either occasion, firstly because the judges were rowing about whether the contest should include Rabbis and didn’t get round to seeing him. On the second occasion he wrote to Ruth Gledhill saying he did not want to proceed any further since sermons should not be part of a competition. Alan retained a competitive streak, so when surprise was expressed, he muttered “Besides, the final is in Walsall….”
It is impossible to detail all his characteristics here; his theology, his exasperation with the church over issues such as gender and sexuality, his immense generosity. He will be remembered by many for his learning, wisdom, perspicacity and mischief.
I once asked him what were the grandest occasions he had ever attended. He mentioned two events. The first was the wedding of King Faroukh, which he didn’t enjoy much. The second, however, was the marriage of King Hussein of Jordan, which he attended with his beloved Rosemary. It often cheered me up to think of the two of them, twirling round the dancefloor in full fig. Come to think of it, it’s what they’ll be doing where he is now.