Today we are remembering a dear man, a loved brother to his siblings, and a good priest. And we do so with real grief, wishing that the last months of his life had been other than they were.

Let’s first recall this life. He was born into a Catholic family in 1952 in what was then County Durham and always remained a man of England’s Northeast, accent and all. He wrote later that he had thought of being a priest from the age of 7, and when he was 12 entered the then Junior Seminary in Ushaw. When his secondary education ended, though, he decided not to pursue the priestly way. He tried accountancy for a few months, but realised he preferred people to numbers. He opted for nursing, trained in Edinburgh and then worked as a District Nurse in Gloucestershire. He enjoyed it, getting to know people and being able, he felt, to help them. But the priestly desire returned. It was a weekend in a monastery, Prinknash Abbey, the motherhouse of the monastery where this Mass is being held, that clinched his sense of a call. Perhaps this explains his lifelong attachment to this monastery: it was the place to go to sustain his sense of vocation. He entered, first, the seminary of the Archdiocese of Westminster, Allen Hall. But the pull of his native land was strong. He returned to the North East and the diocese of Hexham and Newcastle and completed his formation for ordination at Ushaw College. A photograph of him at the time he entered shows how little he subsequently changed, beyond losing some hair and gaining some waist-line. And his formators’ comments on his character, its strengths and limits, could have been written 40 years later! He was a man of continuity, let’s say.  He was ordained a deacon on 3 July 1982 and a priest on 5 November 1983. His retreat for his diaconal ordination, here at Pluscarden, happened to coincide with Fr Anselm and my ordinations to the priesthood. He was mitre or crozier-bearer to Bishop Mario Conti on that occasion. After his own ordination, he served in a series of parishes in Hexham and Newcastle, always his steady, cautious, sometimes fearful, but warm-hearted self. In 2010, he was given an appointment that proved difficult, relationships broke down, there was pain all round. He asked his bishop for a 6-month sabbatical – and took it at Pluscarden. A change felt desirable. Bishop Peter Moran appointed him temporarily to Kirkwall and the archipelago of Orkney. When I became bishop shortly after, the appointment was extended, and he would remain there for 9 years. I think the people and place, the prayerful remoteness of the islands, and the gentle welcome he received from parishioners healed him of his recent hurts. He was allergic to Parish Councils without a doubt, and Synodality was never a favourite song. But he did care about people. He was happier with individuals and families than with groups and committees. He was an unwearying home and care-home and hospital visitor and fulfilled the pattern of the Good Shepherd who knew his sheep by name, one by one. In 2020 he was moved to Banchory and Upper Deeside, hardly arriving before Covid hit. Again the welcome touched him and when normality resumed so did his steady person-centred ministry. At its heart were ever-reverent liturgies rounded out by his own fine singing voice and thoughtful homilies. When the bad news came so suddenly, he was bewildered, most understandably. It was hard for him no longer to be able to celebrate the liturgy publicly, though he did his best to say Mass privately; hard to acknowledge the end of his active priestly service. But he knew reality when he met it. I must thank again the parishioners, his beloved sister and the rest of his family, and the clergy who especially ministered to him in the last months. He always spoke warmly too of the medical care he received in ARI and elsewhere. When I said to him words to the effect, See how your parishioners love you, he remarked, “Wouldn’t it be good to know that earlier?” Such is life. He was a sensitive soul and perhaps struggled to believe how valued he was.  Poignantly, this very priestly man died on the morning of the day the Diocese was holding its Chrism Mass, the Mass when priests renew their promises.

What a clear, real person remains in the minds and hearts who knew him! Peter was Peter, through and through. A steady, conscientious, dependable man, loyal to the loyalties family and Church and friendship had given him. Loyal to the faith and prayer and pastoral work. Loyal to this community whose liturgies he would follow online. Simply, in every sense, a priest. Peter – “rock” – was the right name for him. His ministry didn’t depend on flashiness or personal charisma. Like St Peter before the lame man, he effectively said, “I have no silver or gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk.” How many times he would have held up the Host, and said simply, “the Body of Christ”! What people expect of a priest, St John Paul II once wisely remarked, is Jesus Christ. Today’s Gospel of the road to Emmaus, as it so often does, meets the occasion. In Orkney he spent a lot of time on the roads of the land and the paths of the sea, travelling by ferry and car. In Deeside too there is that long A93 and its string of four churches: how much driving that entailed! Perhaps he preferred to travel alone, but he would always have sensed the companionship of Christ and every time he broke bread at the altars of those churches would have recognised him again and enabled others to do so too.

Christ is risen. “He is risen indeed and has appeared to [Peter]”. And we will rise in turn with him. How good it will be to see this man again, all aglow with God! May he rest in peace.

Pluscarden Abbey, 23 April 2025