The Rector, he said, visited Liz in hospital recently and found her apparently asleep. He prayed aloud for her, asking God to bless Elizabeth. One eye opened and a voice came from the bed: "I think that by now He knows me as Liz!"
So Liz it is.
We learned from Father Reilly's address that Liz was born in South London, in Lewisham, and made her own way, as few from there did in those days, to Oxford, where she read Greats and graduated at the age of 22. Her teaching career began at the top, at Cheltenham Ladies' College. After several different school posts Liz taught finally at the Old Palace School, Croydon.
Having gained her first degree at the age of 22 she went on to take an MA in Theology with London University at the age of 64, and an MPhil from Exeter a couple of years ago. She was practical as well as academic, and took a course in car maintenance too.
ARLT Summer Schools were mentioned during the address, and it was at Summer School that she and Mike met. They worked together at Summer Schools and only after some time realised that they were in love. "So we got married", Liz said. That was in December 1971. Hilary and David, who accompanied them to Summer School in the early days, were born in 1972 and 1975.
Liz was exacting as a teacher, and exact in her own scholarship. If you were capable of an A she expected you to get an A. In her role as a Church of England Reader and Parish Magazine Editor for Crewkerne in Somerset her concern to get things exactly right could mean long telephone conversations about a single word. But she was loving and hospitable too. Father Reilly chose as the Bible reading the passage in St John's Gospel telling of Jesus' visit to the home of Martha and Mary, when Martha was concerned with getting the meal exactly right while Mary sat listening to Jesus. Bible Studies at Liz's home were times when people came to listen to the word of Jesus, like Mary, but also when Liz made sure that the refreshments and hospitality were just right, like Martha. Nice, said Father Reilly.
[Those who enjoyed her Greek New Testament reading groups at Summer School found the same mixture. Her groups never finished their planned reading, because of careful discussion of details.]
Liz, he said, was brave and funny. They would miss her determined, measured steps as she came to church, and the twitch of her eyebrow as she preached.
Seven other Readers, all robed, were in the funeral procession, and quite a large choir that sang a descant to Crimond. The organist played the final chorus from the St Matthew Passion before the service, and a Bach C minor fantasia afterwards. He adorned the final hymn, Thine be the glory, with uplifting trumpet fanfares. The fine parish church was well filled with friends and relatives, including Mike's sister. Hilary was with her husband David, and was very pleased that ARLT was represented at her mother's funeral. Mike and Liz's son David was also there, and I reminded him that I knew him when he was still a boy, coming with his parents to Summer School.
The non-biblical reading was a moving poem of John Donne, which I copy below.
Hym To God, My God In My Sickness by John Donne Since I am coming to that holy room, Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore, I shall be made thy music; as I come I tune the instrument here at the door, And what I must do then, think here before. Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown That this is my south-west discovery, Per fretum febris, by these straits to die, I joy, that in these straits I see my west; For, though their currents yield return to none, What shall my west hurt me? As west and east In all flat maps (and I am one) are one, So death doth touch the resurrection. ...... We think that Paradise and Calvary, Christ's cross, and Adam's tree, stood in one place; Look, Lord, and find both Adams met in me; As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face, May the last Adam's blood my soul embrace. So, in his purple wrapp'd, receive me, Lord; By these his thorns, give me his other crown; And as to others' souls I preach'd thy word, Be this my text, my sermon to mine own: "Therefore that he may raise, the Lord throws down."Some of the congregation leave Crewkerne parish church after the funeral on 1st August 2006.
