In November 1240 another of Abingdon’s great son’s died. Edmund of Abingdon was a scholar and a teacher, and he was canonised, made a saint, seven years after his death. Anthony used to like to come to Mass on the day in the church’s calendar when Edmund is remembered, and felt rather loyal to his Abingdon roots. Abingdon was were Anthony grew up as the eldest (and bossiest) of four brothers, and it was where his theatrical interests began – playing Hamlet and Lady Macbeth in acclaimed school productions.

 

But Anthony and St Edmund of Abingdon share more than a home town. Edmund was once called to Rome to see the Pope, who he told off in no uncertain terms. Well, Anthony had strong opinions and was rather forthright as we know, and I daresay there most of us here will have been told off by him at some stage. The Pope replied to having his ear bent by Edmund by telling him he ought to have been a monk. “Yes” Edmund retorted, “then I shouldn’t have to bother with you”. A quick retort worthy of our Anthony, who usually had the right line to deal with someone – though he did once say “I’ve laddered my tights” to the Queen after appearing before her as the Archangel Gabriel in a Mystery Play. Mercifully she laughed and said the same thing had happened to her on the stairs of the Palace before she’d come out.

 

When Edmund of Abingdon died one of his contemporaries said of him that “he studied as if he would live for ever, and lived as if he would die tomorrow.”

 

“He studied as if he would live for ever.” At our best we have longings that cannot be satisfied in a lifetime, we want to leave a legacy, we want to change things for the better, we have what Wordsworth called ‘the visionary gleam of youth’ which pushes us to great undertakings. This was something Anthony had in abundance, and there was a zest for life, a passion, and intensity, and quality which has burned its mark in our world; actor; entrepreneur; lover; friend; companion; man of faith; and part of what we’re about today is recalling that great treasury of gifts which he has left, and which have formed and changed us for the better.

 

There’s the legacy of his theatrical career of course; and a body of work that ranged from plays by Noel Coward, Oscar Wilde, and Shakespeare, to Dr Who and appearing naked (save a pair of shoes) in a German newspaper advertisement.

 

Because we’ve all had Anthony in our lives we know that there’s a legacy of stories and laughter which will go on enriching our lives. There was a sense in which the actor was never far away, and as Fr Graham will remind us a little later in this service his sense of joy, and fun, and comic effect were priceless. I suspect there won’t be a day of our lives when something Anthony has said to us or a story where he was at the centre won’t return to us.

 

That’s because the greatest legacy that Anthony has left us is love. He had that great capacity for forming friendships and cherishing them and his remarkable life drew in a huge circle of people: He was a brother and an uncle; he was a neighbour – and that circle have been his huge support over the past few years; he was an acting colleague; he was the legend of Portebello, The King’s Road, Liberties at The Purple Shop which he ran with his beloved Michael; he was at the heart of this place which he loved through thick and thin and which he served with such distinction; he was beloved friend. So many circles of depth, and care, and deep love – a lifetimes work, and an enduring gift.

 

There’s the enduring gift of his love for Michael Becker, and the fifty years they shared together. Again, not always easy, but a relationship that weathered the storms of public disapproval for being gay fifty years ago was not easy. Their strong, persistent love has made the world a more free and tolerant and kinder place; and their companionship of each other was a gift that overflowed in hospitality, and joy, and laughter to all around them.

 

“He studied as if he would live for ever” they said of Edmund of Abingdon, and there are gifts in Anthony that we’ll never loose. But also, “he lived as if he would die tomorrow.” If I’m really honest, there’s something that feels surreal about today. It’s hard to imagine this place without Anthony in his familiar pew; reading the lesson and leading the prayers with panache; arriving before festivals with a car full of flowers which he then loving arranged with flair and skill. Even in these last few months of frailty when we probably knew his death was drawing near we didn’t want to admit it.

 

Living in the face of death, acknowledging the fact of it, and reflecting from time to time that death may come tomorrow, or today, and what meaning does that give my life now – that’s not morbid, it is simply rational, and it is a part of the Christian tradition. We remember today the posterity that Anthony has left confident in the faith that he witnessed to, confident that death does not have the last word. “Everything that the Father gives me will come to me,” says Jesus in the Gospel we heard today “and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away.” We can, like St Edmund of Abingdon, like Anthony of Abingdon, like all the saints, live as if we shall live forever: because in Christ that is our future.

 

Anthony asked that his funeral rites should be the Mass, which we offer for the repose of his precious soul. And what are we doing through it? We are placing his death within the scope of Christ’s death; and in that we find cause for joy. At the altar we’ll recall that we are participating in the eternal act of endless remembering and loving which is the life of heaven, that perfect society, where death is no more, and men and women enjoy that eternal peace which is God’s will for us. Anthony ‘studied as if he would live for ever; and lived as if he would die tomorrow’; so when death came in search of him he was ready to loose his life, joyful in the expectation of finding it.