In a funeral Mass for Br. Gabriel, it is important to recall the facts of his life:
That he was a Lancashire man. That he was born into a loving family, which accompanied him all his life and still does, in the persons of his brother Nigel and his nephew James. That his first job after school was as labourer in a Liverpool engineering works. That on completion of his degree in Accountancy Studies he became a highly successful and much respected accountant – the ‘best in the North West’, we are told. He undoubtedly loved what he did, but he left that work when he was 26, feeling a call to the priesthood. He went to the Venerable English College in Rome and excelled in his studies at the Gregorian University. He loved his life in Rome, but he felt a further call to the life of a monk. So again he left what he loved to embrace what he believed God wanted for him. And so he came here, in 1988, aged 29.
Here, besides the praise of God, he did all the things monks typically do: he cooked, and well. He worked on wood and in the garden - perhaps not so well, not being particularly suited - but he did it. Then he became guest master in 1995. The guest master’s life is one of real service: to the guests who come, and no less to the monks, because he ensures that guests can be served without disturbance to the quiet of the monastery. Br Gabriel gave us this service for about half his monastic life. Then, for the last decade of his life, he served us as bursar. This was a task to which he was very well suited, but it was nonetheless demanding, especially as this last decade was marked by increasing physical weakness. He remained at his desk until 8 days before he died.
Saint Benedict speaks of the ‘utilis frater’, the ‘useful brother’. Br Gabriel was such. Not only in the obvious sense as can be deduced from all the useful service he carried out among us; but in the sense intended by St Benedict, that he turned his mind, his whole inner being, towards God. Br Gabriel hated waste. Everything had to be useful. And the main work of his last two years was to try to make his whole soul useful, to give his whole mind and heart to prayer. This was his last service.
It is important to recall all this because all of this was important to Br Gabriel. He was a man of great renunciations, and yet in a deeper sense he never let go of anything. All the connections he formed in the course of his life remained to the end: to his family, to his working-class background – he was very political and very much for the workers – to friendships formed in his work years and his time at the English College. He was an intensely private person, yet in his own way he took people into his heart. He had his own way of giving love and friendship, and he attracted love and friendship. If a life is to be evaluated by whether it increases or decreases the amount of love in the world, Br Gabriel’s life was valuable.
Why are we here? Because we have a duty to Br Gabriel, to perform the last services the Church provides for the faithful: to offer the Holy Sacrifice for his soul, to honour his body which Christ will raise in glory. Br Gabriel will approve, because he was a man of duty. It is very much in line with his life that we do this.
We are here out of love. This also is in line with how Br Gabriel lived. For him, there was no duty that was not followed by love. When he handled cheques, he always wanted to know, if he could, about the persons who gave them. He saw in every donation he handled the love behind it, that he felt and reciprocated. So he will understand why we are here.
We are here out of hope. This seems obvious: the funeral Liturgy is one great expression of our Christian hope. But here I pause. Reflecting on duty, reflecting on love, it is easy to recall the Br Gabriel we knew, to feel a deep connection with him through our own duty and love.
Hope? Certainly, Br Gabriel was a man of hope. Deep, immense hope. He could say with St Paul: ‘My desire is to depart and be with Christ.’ But if in duty and service and love he seems connected to us, the hope he had seemed to disconnect him from life as we experienced it. His great hope for heaven sat uncomfortably in his mortal flesh. This was a suffering to us, and to him, because he didn’t want to make others suffer. In this regard, he couldn’t understand us any better than we could understand him.
For Br Gabriel, the time for hope has passed. He is in the hands of God. We continue to hope: for Br Gabriel, for ourselves. For him, may everything that was obscured by the shadows of this world shine brightly now, may he see the face of God. For us, may we one day see what he sees, and as we shall see God as he really is, may we see Br Gabriel as he really is.