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A selection of articles from our parish magazine
Issue No 108 Remembrance 2023
Pastoral Letter
Waiting
The Course in Christian Studies (CCS) and Me
A Passion to Play
Remembering Grief
My Dad
Windrush Celebrations
Do animals have souls?
Christmas memories
Obituaries
Pastoral Letter
In the cycle of nature, seasons come and go.
As we approach autumn, the nights are drawing in, the trees will start to lose their leaves, there will be a nip in the air and there will be much change all around.
Over the past year we have seen much change. HM Queen Elizabeth II died, Charles III is now our King and a new Prime Minister was appointed. Here at St Edmund’s we are facing change. We said farewell to our Vicar Lesley at the end of April, and we are undergoing a period of transition. This can be very unsettling but let us remember that our loving God is there beside us.
November is a time of remembering. All Saints is the time in the Church year when we remember all Christian Saints throughout the ages. All Souls can be a very difficult time for many as they remember those they have loved and lost. Everyone has their own memories and remember in different ways. Remembrance Day is the nearest Sunday to 11 November when we remember those who gave their lives in armed conflict as they fought for the cause of freedom, justice and peace. It is a day when we recall the human cost of war both in our own lifetime and in the past, and the great sacrifices they made for us. It is a time when we remember all those who served, those who died and those who returned, and especially those who carry the wounds still, both visible and invisible. Jesus told his disciples that, “Greater love has no one than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends”. Jesus did just that for us by dying on the cross.
As we face the coming months with all its challenges and changes, let us remember that we do so together as a Church family. Let us also remember that our loving God will be there beside us and walking with us as we journey together facing the future.
Pauline Setchfield
(Pastoral Assistant)
Waiting
30 April was a day of celebration, tinged with sadness, when we thanked God for Lesley Goldsmith’s 15 years of ministry here at St Edmund’s and wished her well as she took her last service before retirement. It gave us an opportunity to reflect on all that Lesley had achieved during her time in South Chingford, and how she had enriched our mission. Having shared in worship, we joined in fellowship over a buffet lunch in our halls; exchanging gifts and kind words; smiles, laughter and the odd tear. And then it was all over, and the Interregnum began.
When the Vicar leaves, we embark on a time of waiting, to see who God is calling to take our Church forward. It gives us an opportunity to assess where we are in our ministry, and where we see ourselves moving towards: building on what we have achieved, developing what we do, and embracing new ideas. We have produced a Parish Profile that expresses much of this, but it is only part of the picture, and our new Vicar will bring other ideas to complete the vision. The process to appoint a new Vicar will take time, but we hope to welcome someone early next year. While we wait for our next Vicar to be appointed, we have a good team working to keeping the focus of our mission moving forward during this time of change.
An interregnum is not a time to fear, in fact it can be quite rewarding. Over the months since Lesley’s departure, we have been blessed with many ministers (both clergy and lay) leading our services – and special mention needs to be made of our good friend Maria Holmden, who has taken many of our 10 a.m. services, and without whom it would have been difficult to ensure we were able to celebrate with Communion each week. All who have come have brought their distinct flavour to our services, bringing us new and rewarding experiences along the way.
While we are without a Vicar, our main responsibility is to keep the Church running without making major changes to what has gone before, so that when an appointment is made we can together explore what the next chapter in the life of St Edmund’s might look like. We are supported in this with encouragement and advice from our Area Dean and Archdeacon, and our Church officers are going the extra mile, in picking up the administrative and management work of the Parish that was undertaken by Lesley. There is a lot of work and extra pressure, so everybody’s support and prayers have been really appreciated.
I hope that your experience of Church has been positive in these last few months. It is also essential during this time, that we all work together to ensure that St Edmund’s continues to thrive: supporting one other, ensuring what each of us do is valued, and putting the work of the Gospel foremost in our sights as we minister to the people of this Parish. That way, when our new Vicar arrives, we will be prepared to grasp the opportunities and challenges the new era brings: refreshed and invigorated, ready to embrace the future.
Andrew Setchfield
The Course in Christian Studies (CCS) and Me
“Have you thought about what you want to do next?” asked Lesley.
“Not really…” I replied, “I’m throwing everything up in the air and trusting God.”
I had handed in my notice as it had been a particularly stressful year, just after Covid, and I was due some rest.
“How about doing the CCS course? You might be able to join as it has only just begun”.(This was October 2021).
I found myself stuttering words along the lines of “I’ll think about it,” this wasn’t what I had in mind. I’d envisaged lazy days and joining the ‘Ladies who Lunch’ club!
I had heard of the CCS course, a former Vicar – Christopher Owens – had always encouraged me to do the course. I always found excuses –too busy, wrong time, too late etc. (you name it!)
So what would be my excuse now, I thought forlornly.
“I’ll give them a ring on your behalf” she continued, “and let you know how to join, I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
“Yes … why ever not” I said (hoping I would be too late) but my fate was sealed.
Fast forward two years later, I found myself at Chelmsford Cathedral. In front of me with hand outstretched was the Bishop of Chelmsford, congratulating me on achieving a well-earned certificate. Two years of dedicated and committed study, and what a not to be missed journey that was!
I began my studies reluctantly. This was not on my ‘to do’ list, in fact far from it!
I enrolled in October, and joined an already started class of adult students. I had not been there at the start so already felt like an outsider. But I should not have worried. The cohort consisted of a range of ages from early forties to a couple in their 80s. We met online every Tuesday from all around the Diocese of Chelmsford. We followed an academic year in that we had holidays as that of a school year. During the times met, we spent two hours discussing, learning and listening to various topics on religion. Many of the gatherings I found to be truly interesting and enjoyable and within each session brought about fresh knowledge, understanding and an opportunity for hearty debate. This provided an opportunity to really get to know each other and to form bonds and for me, to mix with people who had different views on Christianity which were dissimilar to mine and to each other at times. Oddly, this did not prevent cohesion between us; in fact it felt that we became more unified. So much so that at the end of the first year we decided to meet up even though we had a participant studying from Wales! We all made the effort to come together and had a most delightful gathering and consolidated our tentative friendships.
At the start of our two year tutelage, we had three Tutors each with their own style of delivering lectures. Unsurprisingly, each held differing roles within their own Churches. We had a Reverend (who was the Team Leader), a Spiritual Director and a Licensed Lay Minister. Sadly and totally unexpected, by the end of the two years, we were down two. Our enthusiastic and fervent Spiritual companion passed after a short and sudden illness. This rocked us, understandably, but we carried on, feeling blessed that we had been witness to her infectious passion.
It would be remiss to not mention Assignments! At the end of each term, there was an opportunity to write about our understanding of the topic. These assignments were/are designed to accommodate all styles of learning. Whether a burgeoning wordsmith or a kinaesthetic learner, there was something to capture your style of presenting information. They sometimes ranged from creating a piece of art, or delivering a voice recording to writing an essay, you were sure to find a method applicable to you.
Two years passed quickly and a certificate issued. So, you may rightly ask, what now? That is a question I have been asked many times since. It is also one that I am pondering myself! Personally I have discovered many things about myself and my faith. I am developing a deeper knowledge about Christianity and its place in what seems and often feels to be a more secular society. But our faith evolves and adapts and moves forward and it finds a way to be just as relevant now as it did several millennia ago.
The simple answer is I don’t know. However just as I did when I took a leap of faith by handing in my notice, I am just trusting in God with faith. I would like to conclude with a verse from Hebrews 11.1 which simply states:
“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
NB: If you are interested in finding out about the Course in Christian Studies please do ask me about it.
Catherine Greenidge
A Passion to Play
It is always special to be able to say, “We knew him before he got famous.” And there was very much a sense of that when Jan Liebermann performed at St Edmund’s as part of his organ tour of rather grander Cathedrals. His passion is very much the organ, though he first began playing piano when he was 7.
In his own words, at some point, he had the feeling that he needed something bigger. His mother used to play a Church organ and with a small electronic organ at their home he began lessons, found himself an organ teacher, and immersed himself in what he found an exhilarating instrument to play. The young Jan felt that, with all its many pipes and buttons, sitting at the organ console was like being in a cockpit. Using those controls he could fill a whole room “with the sounds and the little notes from the bright flutes”and found a love of the music of Bach and Widor.
In concerts he aims to touch the audience with the music, and to break the stereotype of an old-man organist, bringing in young freshness, reinterpreting pieces, and shaking things up by doing things differently. All this was brilliantly demonstrated at his penultimate concert on his tour, here in Chingford before moving on to Truro Cathedral. A concert in two halves: the first a programme of German organ pieces by Bach, Pachelbel and Mendelssohn, with the second focusing on the French composers Widor and Duruflé. The recital concluded with a rendition of Duruflé’s beautiful yet anguished ‘Prélude et fugue sur le nom d’Alain.’ As the piece concluded the audience erupted in applause, sensing the skill and musicianship that Jan had brought to the piece and the whole concert, and articulated by our organist Chris South in thanking Jan.
Chris addressing the audience shared that he’d “been amazed by a couple of things: first at how someone could perform this music after playing the organ for only 4 1⁄2 years – it is astounding; and secondly is how the same fault occurred on the organ as at our last recital.” He highlighted that the ‘B’ note (right in the middle of the second keyboard –the keyboard that organists use the most) was sticking on when used and so before the recital, it had to be held up using a pencil sharpener –and so was missing from all pieces. Jan had discovered the problem an hour before he was due to play, and consequently all the preparation he’d done beforehand was of no use and he had to work around it on the fly. As Chris concluded, “This shows both how musical and how versatile he really is. I’m also very glad I booked him now – early in his career; as I’m sure the next time I meet him in person he’ll be very famous and playing in the best concert venues around the world.”
Remembering Grief
In a most-likely cold, grey, miserable November more than eleven hundred and fifty years ago, bodies of men – soldiers and villagers and farmers –lay dead in a field where they had fallen in the rout, as they fled defeat in battle. They were husbands, fathers, lovers and sons, who having served their role, were now lost to history: their decaying corpses littering the wet muddied landscape, until their families and communities found it safe to clear the carnage and to bury their memories in mass graves of forgotten souls. Yet one name is recalled: their leader Eádmund, whose past appeasement and duplicity had led to the danger they faced, and yet who – when the danger came – fought and died alongside them in defence of their communities and the lives they had lived. With his death, his kingdom fell. This November, our Church and Parish which bears his name will recall this little-known Anglo-Saxon King, who found greater fame in death than he ever did in life.
The earliest references to him, simply tell of his death in a cursory manner (“[the Danes] slew the King and overran the entire kingdom;” “Edmund was slain in the battle, and the enemy reduced all that country to subjection”). But a century later, when Danish raids had again resumed, the memory of this obscure King revived, with thirdhand accounts supplying details missing from earlier sources. By then, the defeated King was said to have been captured and brutally tortured, and his ignominious death was now recounted as the martyrdom of a saint.
According to these later hagiographic accounts, king at the age of 14 and dead by the age of 28, his was a life tragically cut short before his time. For those who survived and remained, the remembrance of their king and of those whom they had personally lost helped to assuage the grief (and sometimes the shame) that they carried. Over time, more often than not, this lingered only in a name whose life story had long been forgotten; or when names also failed, just in a memory of deaths that had scarred their communities. For some, more for political expediency than pious intent, cults developed around such victims, with prayer articulating the unresolved grief and restating their hopes and pride of their present time.
With any death, grief is a natural response to the loss experienced by those who remain. It is the emotional suffering felt when confronted by the reality that your life goes on in the absence of the person or thing you loved and who gave substance to the life you had. Grief is no less intense when the loss is of someone who has lived life long and to the full, and when death was expected and peaceful. But when a life ends unexpectedly, when death is sudden and violent, grief can be overwhelming for the survivors. They find that their world has changed, and – as well as the sense of loss and sorrow –they will often struggle with feelings of confusion and distrust, haunted by the injustice of the death and struggling with the hopelessness that the ongoing absence presents.
Media vita in morte sumus (in the midst of life we are in death). Our lives are surrounded by death, and as we learn to live, we also have to learn how to live with the inevitability and finality of the death of others and also ultimately of our own demise. Sometimes it catches us unawares, and sometimes the death we are affected by will not be of anyone close or known to us personally. A report in a paper, or an image on the telly, or the tears of someone in grief, can often trigger that emotional response. I last felt this, earlier this year when, on 7 May, Marshall and Millions, two staffs owned by a homeless man, were shot by police in broad daylight while they were walked on a short lead along a canal in east London.
The senselessness of their deaths provoked strong emotions within me: of acute sadness, a desire for retribution, an aching misanthropy, and – inextricably – tears: as my body sought to control the tensions it was experiencing. It was strange, all-the-more so, as usually I have little understanding or patience with the usurped collective grief we often see, when a person in the public eye dies. The lining of streets, the tying of flowers to a lamp-post, the curious need to clap, the appropriation of another person’s or family’s grief: all sit awkwardly with me, provoking in me just a lot of exasperated eye rolling.
But perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps grief wrong-foots us, not at set times and for specific losses; but that grief is part of the song of our lives and our existence. The grief we live with is emotionally triggered when we are reminded of the losses in our own lives, which have robbed us of those whom we have known and loved. The grief we feel is the removal of the blinkers that shield us from the consequences of our own mortality. Grief perhaps never is resolved, but rather sits suppressed, until –we find again –it is the only thing we have to give, in the face of death and loss.
Our lives are short. Even though the Psalms in the Bible hold out a minimum guaranteed shelf-life of threescore-and-ten years for humans (fourscore if looked after well); for most of human history up to the twentieth century, in terms of life expectancy, the age of 40 seems to have been generally as good as it got, with some exceptions. We seek to conquer the finitude of our resources by pushing the boundaries of science, and to overcome the shortness of our lives with dreams of immortality fostered by advances in medicine. And though we may push the length of our lives past the number of years that once we shared with our wild simian cousins, we create greater time to grieve further losses until we find death is but simply standing a little further off than before.
November sees the ending of the Church’s annual calendar, before December’s Advent season moves us forward into a new church year. This ‘Kingdom Season’ – marked by its festivals of death (All Hallows, All Souls), remembrances of sacrifice (Armistice), and stories of the vanquished (our Patronal Festival) – confronts us with the reality that our lives are full of endings. But ultimately, on November’s final Sunday, we are left with the Feast of Christ as a King who reigns on a cross dying and dead, sharing in the mortality that we ourselves will also one day confront. As the year fades into the darkness of winter, as we grieve our many losses, theologian Joyce Ann Mercer reminds us, “For creatures, whose very beings require relationship, connection and community, grief is part of the struggle to relearn how to be fully human in the face of loss.” Grief is a cry of protest: grief is the natural human need not to be alone.
Colin Setchfield
My Dad
Which three words would you use to describe your family? Maybe you grew up in care and family is complicated. Or maybe you don’t talk to some of your family. Families can be a source of love, support as well as difficulty.
If I had to sum up my family in three words, it would be creative, caring and sociable. I grew up in rural north Yorkshire in the 1980s. We lived in a former farmhouse surrounded by two acres of land, half a mile from a main road and 10 miles north of York.
Me, my brother and sister spent a lot of time playing outside when we were little. We were encouraged to use our imaginations and entertain ourselves. If I told my mum I was bored,she would reply, ‘read a book’. She also reminded us regularly how lucky we were and to think of others. My dad was very ambitious and was promoted to a senior job at Rowntrees, where he was very involved when the business was taken over by Nestlé. This meant that we didn’t have to worry about money in quite the way my mum’s parents had done. Although when interest rates hit 14%, it still hit our family finances hard.
My mum was later ordained as a Vicar, and she instilled Christian values, such as treating others kindly, into us all from an early age. My dad was also a churchgoer who became a Churchwarden after he retired.
He enjoyed being in charge. In his younger days, he had irrepressible enthusiasm and charm that would mean people would be swept along by his ideas. He also had the energy to sustain his plans through to completion. It was hard, sometimes, growing up in the shadow of his big personality. When he was promoted at Rowntrees, I didn’t realise how big a deal it was until a girl at my school informed me. “Your dad is Nick Nightingale?” she said incredulously. “Wow!”
My mum and dad are and were extroverts who loved throwing parties. They turned an old barn at the farm into a party space that was the site of the wedding reception for all three of their children’s weddings.It was also the venue for multiple parties for teenagers and young people. Several of them got rather raucous. Ambulances were called on several occasions! Fortunately no-one was ever seriously hurt.
Fast forward to last spring, and St Edmund’s needed to raise funds. We hit on the idea of a Family Fun Day: a chance to bring families together to have fun and raise much-needed money. I decided to step forward to co-ordinate this event.
I talked to my dad about this event, knowing he would be interested in me taking on a leadership role. And that he would like the idea of a party. I told him my plan was to find people who were better than me at things and leave them to get on with it. Did he agree this was the right approach? “110%”, he said, enthusiastically.
That must have been last June. On 12 July 2022, we learnt that he had died during a sailing holiday off the coast of Finland. He died, aged 79, quickly, doing what he loved. That has been a great source of comfort. He was worried that his memory might be going the same way as his mother’s, who had dementia.
He died as he lived, ‘risk enthusiastic’. Or you could say he was partial to rather hare-brained, Toad of Toad Hall type escapades, as they sometimes felt to those of us who were swept along by them! I never did get to tell him that the Family Fun Day, which took place in May, was a great success.
He would have approved of the talent show we held. He was an incorrigible show-off who enjoyed singing and joined several choirs in retirement.
As a Christian, I believe he does know that the Fun Day went well. I also feel his spirit when I try new things or push myself out of my comfort zone.
I feel blessed to have had a dad who was so encouraging and supportive. He could be infuriating and impatient too, no doubt qualities I inherited, sadly. But mostly I feel very lucky – and have a renewed sense of duty to make the most of life, as he did.
RIP Dad. We miss you but we know you are cheering us on as we try to live life to the full.
Liz Skinner
Windrush Celebrations
Our Mission & Ministry Unit partners at St Andrew’s Walthamstow held a celebration on 2 July marking the 75th anniversary of the arrival of the passengers of the Empire Windrush, and celebrating the achievements of the Windrush generation and their descendants.
It was a great afternoon and the Church was full. We had a letter from the Princess Royal thanking the Windrush generation and their descendants for their contribution in helping to rebuild the UK after World War II, and up until the present time. The letter was read in the service by the Deputy Lieutenant of Waltham Forest, and our young people led the prayers of thanksgiving, celebration and hope for the future.
We had memories shared (some good and not so good) from the descendants, some who worked for the NHS (incidentally also celebrating 75 years), and others who worked on the London Underground and trains. Members of the Afro Caribbean Elders Association were in attendance, as was our Deanery Lay Chair (Vevet Deer) other clergy and members of the Churches from the Deanery and further afield. Refreshments – including curry, fritters, sweetbread, and punch – was enjoyed afterwards in the hall whilst listening to the steel band.
The weather was great too. It was a relaxing afternoon for all, and we had to politely send them out at around 7 p.m. We had scheduled the afternoon from 3 to 6 p.m.!
Stella Olukanmi
Priest-in-Charge of St Andrew’s Walthamstow
Do animals have souls?
Those of us who have ever had an animal want to believe that we will be reunited with them again one day after our lives are ended here on earth. Our pets give us so much happiness and companionship that when we lose them our grief can be just as deep as when we mourn the loss of any other member of our family. It is inconceivable to me that God who so lovingly created them and breathed life into them (Genesis 20.25) would not include them in the afterlife.
The bible was written many thousands of years ago and I believe it is the word of God written down by people inspired by him. It’s most important message is God’s divine love for all of his creation and it gives guidance showing us how to live our lives. There is, however, one thing that bothers me – the bible is not clear as to whether or not animals have souls. Most theologians give it a resounding “No”. They point out that humankind was created superior to animals so cannot be equal (Genesis 1.26). Some interpreters of the bible say animals have the breath of life” but they do not have an immortal soul. The bible however refers to animals in Heaven. Isaiah states that animals will be included in the new Heaven and a new Earth: “the wolf and the lamb will feed together and the lion will eat straw like the ox…” (Isaiah 25). In Revelation, John’s vision includes animals which shows Christ and the army of Heaven riding
on horses (Revelation 19.14). Though the bible is sketchy about whether or not animals have souls, what it does say is: “with God all things are possible” (Matthew19.26).
What does soul mean? Sometimes people speak of something being “soulless”; or someone being the “heart and soul” of a particular thing; songs speak of “body and soul”. But what does soul mean? Could soul refer to our deep feelings, to our core values. It has been found that animals can have deep feelings. Elephants feel grief, dolphins and whales can express joy and most animals in certain situations can be terrified. In some older English bibles, the Hebrew word “nephesh” is translated as “soul” but has a closer meaning to “living being” i.e. a living, breathing, conscious body. In Genesis God breathed life into everyone of his creation. Many prominent scientists now believe that animals share a consciousness similar to that of humans as discovered by Professor Candace Pert of Georgetown University Medical Centre in Washington. Her work uncovered that there are what she calls “opiate receptors” in our bodies which form the basis for our feelings and emotions and exist in all life forms. Professor Pert’s discovery shows that there is unity between all life forms and we all feel love, sadness, joy, jealousy, anger and sorrow.
What do other denominations and religions believe about souls and animals? Back in 2014, Pope Francis stated that all pets go to Heaven. He told a small boy this whose dog had then recently died. Further back in 1990, Pope John Paul II stated, “animals do have souls”. In Islam there is no clear cut answer but in Islam all souls are eternal including those of animals. Buddhism sees animals as sentient creatures like humans. They believe humans can be reborn as animals and animals reborn as humans. They believe humans and animals are inter-connected. Gandhi once stated, ”There is little that separates humans from other sentient beings. We all feel pain, we all feel joy, we all deeply crave to be alive and live freely, and we all share this planet together”.
In the bible there are instances where God treats humans and animals fairly and in the same way. In Genesis 8.1, “God remembered Noah and every living thing and all the cattle that were with him in the ark”. Psalm 14.9 states, “The Lord is good to all and his mercy is over all that he has made”. Luke 3.6 states, “And all flesh shall see the salvation of God”. Ecclesiasties 3.19-21 says, “The fate of humans and the fate of animals is the same … humans have no advantage over animals for all is vanity”.
I believe there is something beyond this life not only for humans but for all living creatures. God made such a rich assortment of animals in the beginning that we need to ask ourselves why would he not include them in the new creation as pictured in Revelation. One definition of Heaven is “a place of great happiness and joy”. If ever I get there, it would give me great happiness and joy to know that everyone of my pets I have ever had were there waiting for me.
Pauline Setchfield
Christmas memories
I cannot remember seeing the word Christmas in the Bible, but it is a word that sticks in my mind from a very young age when I first start attending Church. To this day, I still look forward to Christmas. Apart from recognising the day as the birthday of our Lord and saviour Jesus Christ, many adults (including myself) often say that Christmas is for the children. This is clearly is not the case, because we go to great expense to create an atmosphere not just for children but also for our own enjoyment with our family and friends. I must admit that Christmas is not the same as we knew it fifty or so year ago because most things have changed: some for good reasons and some for not so good reasons. As a person who grew up in a warn climate, the only things that we had to bother about during the Christmas season were the rain, and the slight coldness of the sea during that season – which will not be recognised as being cold in Europe or America.
My Country in the Caribbean celebrates in a unique way with nine mornings of Christmas activities starting early nine days before Christmas. Groups of people or individuals go walking, carolling on the streets or early morning sea bathing. They would also attend Church services, view the private and public Christmas lights in the Christmas Lighting Competition and Carol Singing contest in all towns and villages throughout the country. No one is left out from the Christmas celebrations and several organisations even organise carol singing in the hospitals and other institutions, and the prisons usually have their Christmas concert in a place where the public are allowed to attend.
For over two decades, I took part in most of the Christmas celebrations that were sponsored by the local Rotary club, including playing the role of Father Christmas, distributing gift, and singing to the sick children in hospitals. In all towns and villages there are always activities for every one during the Christmas season. Electricians find themselves the busiest, because most households decorate their homes with colourful Christmas lights, as do Churches and businesses. I am not sure if the Christmas will be the same as before the pandemic and over thirty volcanic eruptions since 2020. However, I doubt things will ever be the same as it was before.
I am thankful to God that, with the support of Monica and my children, I have spent over eighty Christmases, some in my country of birth but the majority in the United Kingdom, with my families and friends. There are few Christmas that stand out in my mind. In September 2002 we were taken on a holiday to Holland by our two sons, Len and Aldrin, before returning to the Caribbean at the end of October. All seemed well with the boys but, before we left London, Aldrin and I had a conversation about Christmas and he said to me that he will be spending the day with Len. I said to him, look out for a call from me Christmas Day but, unfortunately, that call was never made as he died on 4 December that year. It was the worst thing for us. Monica was in Church and I was preparing to attend a meeting at another Church to finalise our Christmas activities. I felt so light headed and I didn’t know how to break the news to Monica. I called some family members to our home with my daughter. Although we were so saddened, we found comfort in the prayers of our family and friends, including our church families, and I felt less devasted than I was expecting. Because of our faith in God, we were able to return to London within a week to mourn with the rest of the family and say our final goodbye to a brilliant son. Since that year, I always try to spend Christmas or the New Year with all the children and grandchildren.
Christmas 2012 was memorable because it was one of the many when I went to the Governor General’s residence to help out with the children’s Christmas party. I also attended another at our General Hospital’s children ward, where sometimes I played Father Christmas and distributed gifts. The children, although sick, were energised with sparkling joy in their eyes. This generated such joy and satisfaction in everyone (including the nurses and doctors who always joined in with the volunteers during the singing of Christmas Carols and prayers). We couldn’t spend Christmas as usual in the Caribbean in 2013 because that year was our 50th wedding anniversary, and the Children wanted us to celebrate it with them. Although we had other plans to celebrate the occasion with friends and family back home, we let the children have their way and they took control of everything in London. The celebration was on 5 January and the weather was good for that time of the year. We had a wonderful time and saw a lot of people who had attended our wedding in one of the coldest winters recorded. Many were kids at the time and now have families. One of my daughter’s school friends, who is a chef and very good at baking cakes, came to London and baked a cake for us.
One Christmas week, I went to the fish market and bought some fish. A vendor told me that he had some of the best fishes on his stalls. I had already bought what I wanted but I was curious. So I went and looked at his fishes and saw a very nice fish that I hadn’t see for a long time. I bought it and decided to have it for Christmas breakfast. Monica and I baked some cakes and puddings and, when we had finished the baking, she told to me to put the fish in the oven. All the seasoning had been put on it and it would save us the time of cooking it, when we returned from Church in the morning. (That would have been about eight o’clock, because Church started at 6.30 on Christmas day to allow people to meet and greet each other). It was around one that Christmas Eve night, while looking at the news on the BBC World Service, I realised what Monica had. I got up immediately, lit the oven and in went the fish. Sleep and tiredness was getting the better of me, so I took a drink (of something from the drinks’ cupboard) and selected an old long-playing Christmas carol record. By that time, the fish was finish and ready to eat. I turned the cooker off.
I fell asleep while listening to the record player and was awakened by a loud bang (like an explosion in the mountain). At first, it didn’t bother me but, as it got more intense with flashing that illuminated the whole place, the phone started ringing and people were suggesting that there was a volcanic eruption. I phoned a person I knew who lived near the volcano and he confirmed that the volcano was not the problem. He further reported that there was heavy rain and lightening in the northern areas of the Island, but there was very little rain where we lived. I went to bed after midnight and slept till six on Christmas morning. I didn’t see or feel any difference in the weather. However, we had no electricity and no running water. We had water in our solar water tank and it never bothered us at the time because I didn’t look outside as everything looked normal. Church was five or six minutes by car, so we prepared ourselves and went off to Church at 6.15 only to find the bridge nearest to us blocked. Consequently, we diverted to another route where the road was passable. But, after Church, we were given the bad news that there was heavy rain in the mountain and forest across the island, and many rivers near us had broken their banks with nearby villages were flooded.
Like most people we decided to provide whatever help we could to those affected by the flood. My Christmas fish, and all our bread, cakes and Christmas food, was distributed to those families. We spent time, along with friends and family, cleaning and removing debris and water from homes, and looking for flood victims. Nine people lost their lives, and one or two were missing. The flood damage to some houses was serious. The quick response of the people from the surrounding villages and towns was very good and some residents were able to move back into their houses later the same day. No one could imagine the extent of the damages to some of the properties, including the loss of furniture, fridges and cooking utensils. To me it was a real lesson of co-operation and love to others in a time of need. It was something we had never seen before in the month of December, which is outside the hurricane period. Most people talk about climate change as something new, but I was listening to many old farmers talking about climate change a long time ago when cotton was one of the main agricultural products of the island. But no one listened to the farmers then. On the island where I was born and lived, we never got heavy rainfall in the month of December because November was the end of the rain and hurricane season. Since the late 1950s and early 1960s however, we noticed the rise in sea level in some Caribbean islands when we used to go on the rocks of the shoreline and fish in the evenings after school. They were covered with sea water and we never understood what was happening, so it was completely ignored by everyone. Now some of the same areas of rocks on the shore line cannot be seen because they are completely submerged, and some areas where there were small beaches now have deep shorelines.
Christmas is the best period of the year, whether a Christian or not. Christmas must be a time to love and to share what we have with those who do not have what we have. It does not have to mean material things. It can be spiritual things. It can be kind words of comfort to those who are sick or having mental challenges. Sometimes just saying “Good Morning” or “Good Evening” to someone may be of help to that person. We live in a time where many people – young and old – are suffering in silence through no fault of their own. During the Christmas season, some people are in crisis because they lack of a warm home and not sure where the next meal is coming from, so those of us who can lend a helping hand to them must do so during this Christmas.
Leroy Charles
Obituaries
Gerald Goddard
Born, 1 May 1929; Died, 16 February 2023.
Gerald Goddard was a member of our Sunday 8 a.m. congregation. He had been a school master, and his deep faith had ensured that religious education was his subject. His interests included literature (he was fond of Victorian novels, history and thrillers) and horticulture. He was not keen on television unless Dad’s Army or University Challenge was on. Retirement had allowed him to spend more time on his real passion of growing things. He had a vast knowledge of many plants, and would often exhibit, often showing his superior knowledge by challenging the judges. He was a keen competitor who, during his latter years, was also a member of the Middleton House Garden and the Royal Horticulture Society committees, as well as President of the Chingford Horticultural Society, and he could boast the Nation Collection of Tanacetum in his garden. It was the 1662 Holy Communion service that drew him to St Edmund’s in 2009: he had a love of its liturgy and language. He dismissed the Church’s service books in favour of his well-worn Prayer Book, which he brought with him each week, and relished reading the Epistles in all the richness and beauty of their language. Mobility issues eventually confined him to home, where he continued to receive communion until the end of his life. His funeral (led by Lesley Goldsmith) was on 21 March, the day the Church keeps the festival of the Reformation martyr, Thomas Cranmer, quite fitting as the first Prayer Book of 1549 was largely the work of this Archbishop.
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St Edmund, Chingford 