Sermon for the funeral of Walter Josef Stranz

Sermon for the funeral of Walter Josef Stranz

"From theatres of memory to the threat of resurrection" (With apologies to Raphael Samuel)

Several decades ago Mum posted a valentine to Dad in the February 14th columns of The Guardian
(Poor historian that I am I have consulted neither the written nor the oral sources available to me, worse than that I know that the quote is not quite right but the essence is there and anyway I am sure that Mum will supply the correct version for you all later)
The valentine greeting read "Araucaria and Lovengro may rule our bedtimes, but Alert W rules my heart".
Dad scanned the pages of the Guardian and, on spotting the Valentine intended for him, immediately said "But you always say you're no good at anagrams!"

For those of you a little puzzled or concerned at what it was that was going on in my parents' bedroom I should explain that every evening they would try to do the Guardian cryptic crossword - Araucaria and Lovengro are two of the names of the setters of that crossword,
and for those still in the dark about the Alert W - it had to be explained to me at the time, I am still no good at cryptic crosswords - it is an anagram of Walter.
As a translator and interpreter I feel I should also add that when Dad said "But you always say you're no good at anagrams" what he meant was "Thank you, I love you too".

Today as we enter the theatres of memory and remembrance, each of you will have your own personal memories of Walter.
As I play with words to speak about Alert W and what he was to so many of us, I am very aware that there is much, much more that could be said.
I recognize also that playing with words, telling stories, teaching history were central to Walter's being.
And in telling and weaving stories today we will participate in that essential human activity of trying to make a little more sense of our lives.
Honest historical inquiry, learning about and from the past, can only enrich our own stories, even if that enrichment comes sometimes through recognition of powerful challenges to cherished prejudices and received ideas.
But honest inquiry will always help us tell our own stories with more integrity and it allows history from below to flourish and prosper between the generations.

To guide us on our way two Jewish sayings about remembrance:
"To remember leads to salvation to forget leads to the wilderness"
"To remember is to live" (This second one is the title of a film made about the Jewish cemetery in Weissensee, Berlin where our Jewish great grandparents are buried).

So, if you are sitting comfortably, let us begin ( Yes, sorry we are still only at the beginning, you have been warned Stranz's are rarely brief - I am my father's daughter! )
Let us enter the theatres of memory

Towards the end of John's Gospel Christ utters these words from the cross as he dies
"It is over"
Words which speak powerfully both of suffering and of an end of suffering
"It is over"
These were also my own thoughts as I received the news of my father's death, on holiday in the city of his birth.
"It is over" expressed my complex feelings of relief and release that his terribly debilitating illness no longer held him and also my mother in its grip
Yet as I flew away from Berlin to return to Redditch I realized very powerfully how easily the life we give thanks for here might not have been.
We cannot even begin to comprehend how many millions of other Walters humanity has lost to Nazi gas chambers, to Stalinist gulags, to Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge, to Mobutu's vicious politics of corruption, to ethnic hostility between Hutus and Tutsis, to dictatorships, and to political and religious bigotry the world over… the list through history and into our own time is so long...

These are not natural disasters but human beings choosing to systematically annihilate, terrorize and subjugate their fellow men and women.

If only that were over...

Before we leave this particular theatre of memory, I must mention Tante Helene, my great aunt - only Gertrude here today actually knew her - who had great pester power, she sat in Sir Stafford Cripps’ office, for several days and simply said, no doubt with a strong German accent, "my brother is a lawyer so are you, you will sign his immigration papers". I'm sure she also said please and was polite. She it was who also got the redoubtable Mrs Freeman who opened her “Welcome House” to over 16 German Jewish children, to be guarantor for her nephew and niece, Walter and Gertrude, and finally through quiet but determined conviction the Quakers became guarantors for my grandmother. Without all of the courage and determination and conviction of these other people, Walter would never have met Betty and we would not be here today.

Churches throughout the world continue to remind politicians that one of the key ethical tenets of the Judeo-Christian inheritance is to welcome the stranger.

Politicians of left and right and centre, so keen in other circumstances to speak about Christian values, or to denounce axis of evil, seem not to think those bits of the Bible are relevant.

As I give thanks for my feisty aunt, for the quiet Quakers, I also give thanks for this local congregation here at Emmanuel Church which as part of its regular Christian commitment had a collection for the Refugee Council on the Sunday before Walter died.

Long may we continue to read the Bible and tell and retell its stories and injunctions prophetically to the men and women of our own time.

Before I descend into ranting, let us move on to the next scene in our theatre of memory
This scene has the title
"Walter the party man"
The title is also Mum's invention and it is of course another play on words, many of the photos that Richard has displayed in the hall show Dad at family parties, eating his way through several deserts - with ice cream custard and whipped cream please - and enjoying the people he was with, the party man was also a people person.

He was of course also a party man in that other way.
Peter Mandelson (who was once taught chemistry by Walter's sister Gertrude, though not I gather terribly successfully) once wrote in his obituary of an old Labour party activist "She was neither old Labour nor new Labour but tribal Labour"

Tribal Labour describes Walter the party man well, wearing his red shirt today for the last time, off to canvass the opinion of a higher power.
The words conviction, commitment, justice and love come into this theatre of memory, as do dogged determination, attention to planning detail, belief in community and also I suspect biting wit and the ability to go for the political jugular.

Walter's political and religious convictions were forged against the backdrop of global concerns, he threw himself into local action but could never forget the wider global picture,
think globally act locally - the mayoral charities he chose reflected his own deep sense of responsibility and privilege, to simply be alive.

There will not be time, even for a Stranz, to mention the other theatres of memories, many of you have already done so very eloquently in your letters and cards, but here are a few headings for you to develop later:

Walter as teacher; as listener; in his wheelchair as a local embodiment of the integration of the disabled; as local historian; as speech maker; academic; councillor; reluctant gardener; believer in civil society and informed political debate; Walter as brother, father, husband.....

We move forwards from the theatres of memory to the threat of resurrection.

The passage Hywell read earlier represents the ancient ending to Mark's gospel, it's the earliest gospel account of the resurrection, telling us that resurrection is simply an empty tomb and fear - later generations of story tellers thought this ending was a little cryptic and needed adding to (and that's how we got the extra ten verses or so at the end of chapter 16 which are still a good story but an addition nevertheless).

Julia Esquivel, the Latin American theologian, speaks of resurrection being not only a promise but also a threat, a threat to our received ways of thinking,
resurrection destroys prejudice,
changes the world
In Mary's words in the Magnificat, it lifts high the humble and sends the rich away empty handed.

Walter very much believed in and practised what theologians call a realised eschatology - I do apologise for these long words, and in a brief aside to Mum, whose hearing is not always all it could be, want to add I did say eschatology Mum, not scatology.
A realised eschatology is all about bringing the Kingdom of God to bear on the here and now, it means daring to take a stance and be thought wrong by others, it means daring to get involved, going to vote, valuing democracy and debate.
Perhaps then, the threat of resurrection is the threat of the new experiences getting involved might bring to us.
Redditch is in so many ways a credit to many, many people - not just my father - who dared to live with the threat of resurrection, of daring to dream that something new could be built and go on being built.
That building is not just dependent on bricks and mortar and planned buildings, though of course they are also very important – claiming the opposite would make my father turn in his grave before we have even laid him in it!

But it is the operatic societies and the sports clubs and the guides and scouts and music societies and the theatres and charities and churches and mosques and schools and hospitals and gurdwaras and temples and synagogues and green spaces and coffee shops and meeting places and doctors and nurses and so, so much more
that build up community, carry it into the future and offer promise that we will learn from the theatres of memory and joyfully dare to be threatened by resurrection.

I was surprised to come to the realisation as I prepared these words that my father was essentially a contented man, he knew that life is not only about working and striving to achieve, but life is also about holiday, about pottering around town on a Saturday morning, about humour and laughter.

Britain seems so proud to have the longest working hours in Europe. In that Bible I read it talks about Sabbath, time off, with God, with family. Gentle contentment is also part of resurrection's promise and truly a threat to an established order of continual overwork.
This is something I am surprised to learn from my father today and an area I still need to make progress in!

Mum, the very Alert W ruled not only your heart but conquered hearts and minds of many in this ordinary but extraordinary town called Redditch.

As we struggle with life's cryptic clues and try to figure out not anagrams but the meaning of our own existence

As I puzzle and question what thinking globally and acting locally means for me

I rejoice and give thanks to God that my father was such a positive example for so many

However, and I imagine Richard feels the same, it is of course not always easy for the children and family to accept that example as easily as others do. I'm sure that Dad would even expect us to say that!

Nevertheless (and this bit will make me cry) with English understatement, I would say we thought he did quite well really,
And we loved him very, very much.
Long may we all continue to tell history in a way which leads us ever more into life
Long may we move from the theatres of memory to the promise of resurrection
as we commit ourselves to building civil society in this place and in the wider world - and yes I really do still believe that.
Finally, and this really will make me cry, Mum, thanks for everything.

Some notes
My father was head of history at the local high school for many years, after which he moved into teacher training and then to be head of the faculty of town planning and the built environment at the University of Central England.
He was a member of Redditch Council for over 40 years and of Hereford and Worcester County Council for 20 years. He led the labour party group on both councils, in opposition and in power, for many years and was mayor of Redditch on three occasions.
In 1994, having repeatedly refused other national honours, he was made the only Freeman of the Borough of Redditch – he delighted in the fact that this gave him the ancient right to drive sheep for free over the town bridge!
One of the last books I gave my father, some 10 years before his death when he could still hold and read a book, was Raphael Samuel’s “Theatres of Memory”. At the time he was busy writing his own history of Redditch Council and we had a long conversation about testing our own memory against the written sources and also about local history.
Walter had Parkinson’s disease for 22 years. Thanks in large part to his own tenacity and the incredible mobility, nursing and support given by his wife Betty, he was out and about in the town he loved and helped to build until a few weeks before his death.
Redditch is a new town of around 80,000 people, south of Birmingham and north of Stratford upon Avon. Jokes are told about the calendar featuring its roundabout system and it being rather a boring place. As are the places most of us come from it’s an ordinary extraordinary place.