High praise for Father Murphy

A BIT like an OFSTED inspection - or, worse, a once-over from the At Your Service column - Roman Catholic churches must now undergo a regular and enquiring visitation from those in great office.

Canon Seamus Cunningham, rather formidably styled Vicar General - didn't they have those in the Inquisition? - descended upon All Saints, Ferryhill, in March. The last paragraph of his report may have said it all.

"It is very obvious that Father Brian Murphy is doing a wonderful job and is much loved by everyone. They appreciate his way of celebrating the liturgy, and his gentle approach."

Father Murphy has been in Ferryhill and the neighbouring parish of Windlestone since 1999, celebrated this summer the 40th anniversary of his ordination, reacts to high praise with the same "Who me?" incredulity as to a parishioner's suggestion that he's a bit of a boy for the cream cakes.

Twin impostors, as Mr Kipling perhaps iffily averred.

There is, in truth, a very good reason why Father Murphy, originally from west Cumbria, may have to go canny on the cream cakes. In 1992, while parish priest at Crook, he was told he had stomach cancer.

"I was quite sporty and had never smoked, so it was a bit of a surprise," he says. "The surgeon was brilliant, but they didn't so much cure me as cut it all away. You never know what's around the corner, do you?"

He had both stomach and spleen removed, spent ten months recuperating with the Little Sisters in Newcastle - "It had knocked me sideways a bit" - lost two and a half stones and has never been able to regain it.

For all that, he sees blessings. "It opened up all sorts of avenues. When you are trying to reach people who are ill, sometimes it's good to have been there yourself.

"In a strange way, I think it's good to have experienced it. It's really helped me with my ministry; I hope it's helped other people, too."

He's returned to something pretty near full vigour, plays golf on his day off, is said to cut a fine figure on the dance floor, is 64 but has no plans to retire. "I take things one day at a time, but I'm guided by my health.

"I love Ferryhill and Windlestone. In more ways than one, it's very good to be here."

The folk of All Saints manifestly love having him, the post-Mass gathering more a meeting of the Brian Murphy Appreciation Society.

"A gentle man, a very down-to-earth man," says Eileen Ward; "a people person," says Leo Robinson. Shelagh Robinson supposes that none would have anything but good to say about their parish priest, Hilda Myers adding that he's a man to whom you can tell your troubles.

"He treats everyone the same, you really feel he's listening to you," she says - but then Father Murphy has had troubles of his own.

NOW a complex of church, presbytery and social club, the church was built in 1927. Ferryhill's Catholics had hitherto had to attend West Cornforth or Tudhoe churches, usually walking.

Eileen Ward was born in the parish in 1933, remembers every priest - Father Leo Power, the first, had died in 1943 just as he should have been celebrating Mass - has a particular soft spot for Father Patrick McGuigan, there from 1980-86.

"He did like his bingo, Father McGuigan."

Father Murphy, she believes, tops the poll. "He's brought everyone in the church together, persuaded lapsed attendants to come back, made the church so much more warm and more welcoming. We're very lucky to have him."

The welcome is indeed as warm, the atmosphere as vibrant, as any it's possible to remember - and the churches, by and large, lay the red carpet pretty well these days.

Nationally, it's Racial Justice Sunday, at Ferryhill it's also Beans Sunday, the monthly collection of cans organised by the Peace and Justice Group to be taken up to asylum seekers in Newcastle.

Shelagh, the coordinator, is persuaded to have her photograph taken with what might be termed a bean tower. First-rate photographer as she is, Ms Sarah Nicholson has clearly missed her vocation. She should have been a shelf stacker at the Co-op.

The "parish profile" - they have to do those, too, what acronymists call a SWOT analysis - lists maybe a score of other organisations and groups, each an indication of a lively parish.

All Saints folk are also much involved with something called the Ladder House, a project helping successfully to transform the council housing estate out the back. "At one time you didn't dare shut your windows," says Fred Bowtell, "for fear of trapping someone's fingers in them."

The service is thoughtfully led, well ordered, obviously practised and - save for the failure to announce the hymn numbers - clearly signposted. The celebrant notwithstanding, there's no evidence of Murphy's law at all.

Two of the immaculately attired young altar servers are on their first Sunday shift, another couple of dozen go off for the children's service. Getting on 200 are present.

Father Murphy's homily follows the hard road. "Jesus could never be accused of offering the crowds who came to hear him an easy life. There's no room for competing loyalties. He doesn't want wishy-washy followers, but he doesn't want mindless followers, either."

There are prayers for racial justice, for the courage to share and for the recently deceased Earl Gibson, a parishioner who made the priest's chair from old altar rails.

Bill Wood, retired a few days previously as managing director of one of Newton Aycliffe's biggest factories, is organist and choirmaster; Claire Nicholson, a neuro-surgeon at Newcastle General, provides memorable accompaniment on the flute.

Afterwards many retire to the club for coffee and biscuits, talk of what a smashing place it is, of how much they enjoy coming to church, how lucky they are to have Brian Murphy.

It should not be taken from here, of course, but from the Vicar General's unequivocal report.

"A very good experience."

* Principal Sunday service at All

Saints, Ferryhill, is at 10am. Father Brian Murphy is on 01740-651343