A fine lawyer as we have heard, but Derek was also an extraordinary priest – and as so often with Derek the word is carefully chosen: extraordinary in the sense of remarkable, but extraordinary too in the sense of out of the ordinary. For many years I have asked myself the question: Was Derek a natural priest?
He was certainly a superb priest to many, as a number here will bear witness, but was he a natural priest? I am not sure I understand myself what that means, but the very fact that he posed that question in my mind suggests there is something to it.
Having worked with many priest colleagues over the years in a number of places, I have a sense of what is a natural priest – one who fits the dog collar well I suppose. But just occasionally one comes across a person like Derek whose priesthood is special, they wear it differently from many, perhaps they are more critical, less ready to accept, keen to question what others take for granted. Not just in matters of faith, but in the practice of religion as well. One indicator of this was Derek’s utter lack of pomposity – something to which we clergy can be prone.
In a sense he always retained something of his lay status – having been an active lay member of the church especially nearby in St Peter’s Belsize Park where he played an important role and was Chairman of the Deanery Synod. But the vocation to serve in the ordained ministry led him to train at Salisbury Theological College. But what to do with Derek once ordained? That was the question. The inspired answer came when he was invited to become Assistant Curate here in Hampstead Parish Church with the idea that he would have a roving brief across the deanery. Certainly he played a large part in the area, but it was this parish that was blessed with his remarkable ministry.
He was made Deacon in 1986 at the age of 61. A few months later Graham Dowell retired as Vicar and Derek found himself working alongside a new Vicar who in age could almost have been one of his sons. I count myself hugely privileged and most fortunate to have had so generous, wise and loyal a colleague for the years we worked together. And not for myself only, there were also our younger curate colleagues who benefitted from Derek’s gentle wisdom and kindness.
Of course he never stopped being a lawyer – his sermons would often be peppered with subordinate clauses endeavouring to make sure there could be no misunderstanding. Yet faith, though precious, was at times elusive to him. That perhaps is one of the clues to his ministry – he was living out his own exploration of faith, at times in uncertainty and doubt.
He brought much of himself into his ministry, the pain as well as the joy. He would speak of the insecurity of a childhood marked by the death of his father. There was something of that in his faith in our Heavenly Father – at times fragile and out of sight. Such moments were not easy, but out of these came profound understanding and empathy with others who found faith hard or life a trial.
Whether in the parish or in his important ministry at Edenhall, with legal colleagues or with his wide range of acquaintances, Derek gave generously of his warmth and support. I used to envy his easy enveloping of people in that great avuncular hug – sometimes not knowing his own strength as a slap on the back could send one reeling, or a hearty handshake almost break your fingers – but there was little doubt of the sincerity of his greeting.
More than many people Derek knew the truth of St Paul’s words: we preach Christ and him crucified. His preaching was entirely centred on that figure of Christ where God himself entered into human suffering on the cross. It was there he found hope – albeit at times rather elusive.
The last time I saw Derek was when he was in the hospital in St Pancras. Of course he was frail, of course he was frustrated – as only Derek could be – and of course he was finding faith hard. But we talked and, most precious of all, we laughed and laughed as we had done for so many years as colleagues and friends together. It was precious for me, and I believe for him too.
At a funeral here some years ago I described Joan and Bernard de Bunsen, whom many will remember, as being the real ‘beautiful people of Hampstead’ – not the glamorous youth of the fashion magazines, but rather people whose lives had a beauty for all to see. Now Derek of course had the appearance of a matinee idol, and Estelle’s elegance and style is legendary, but together they too have been among the most prominent of the true ‘beautiful people of Hampstead’ and for that we give thanks.
Derek was blessed in Estelle whose love and support has been inestimable through all these changing scenes of life. They have been rightly proud of their four sons – and tragically we have shared their grief in Michael’s recent and untimely death. But Nigel, Patrick and Jonathan will all have so much more to tell of their father.
Derek knew something of the depth of God’s love, though he never just took it for granted. It is to that love that we entrust him today ‘in sure and certain hope’. Of fewer people have I felt it more certain that he will hear those words of welcome: Well done, thou good and faithful servant