Dom Stephen Holdsworth RIP - Funeral Homily
Good Shepherd, Good Priest
Those words, spoken by the Lord God through the prophet Ezekiel, describe the heart of God, the Good Shepherd — but they also describe the life and ministry of a good monk and priest. They could well be written of Fr Stephen’s years of service as a pastor in Abergavenny, Swansea, Hereford, and Weobley. In each of those places, he shared in the Shepherd’s work: seeking out the lost, binding up the wounded, strengthening the weary, and leading God’s people with quiet faithfulness.
And like Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who came close to his people, Fr Stephen did not serve from a distance. He knew his people; he was among them. He shared their sorrows and their joys, their hopes and their disappointments. He bore their burdens with prayer and patience he brought the joy of the Gospel and the grace of the Sacraments.
His mission amongst us is complete. He has served God’s good purpose. So today we ask Christ the Good Shepherd to take Stephen on his sacred shoulders and carry him home to the house of the Father. Bind up his wounds, give him eternal rest and lead him at last to the green pastures and still waters of eternal life.
Fr Stephen's Life
Fr Stephen lived a very long life — as you well know. He managed to fill 94 years with plenty of stories, a few adventures, and much humour. He was born in 1931 on the Wirral, the family home was in Greasby; a good, solid Cheshire beginning. His father Gerald was a purser for a shipping line out of Liverpool — a post that took him to faraway places, including Argentina where he met Olive, his future, half-Argentinian wife. Together they had three boys: David, Charles and Christopher. It is a moment to offer condolences to his family who were always close to him – particularly Christopher, and his sister-in-law Marie Louise, here today.
Charles — as Stephen then was — began school at St Anselm’s College in Birkenhead, but wartime bombing in Liverpool in 1943 prompted a move to safer ground, and so he joined his brother David at Belmont’s School. The conditions were, shall we say, character-building rather than comfortable — but the boys were safe, they thrived, and both excelled at sport. Charles was a mean rugby player – you can take that word ‘mean’ in any way you like. Occasionally he would admit that the name he was given on the field was ‘animal.’
In 1948, at the age of 18, Charles decided to join the monastery, relieved to escape the tutelage of Fr Denis his housemaster. Only to find that the Abbot had made some moves, and his Novice Master would be none other than Fr Denis. It was a testimony to Stephen’s perseverance. Later in life, when Stephen was parish priest at Abergavenny, he willingly welcomed Fr Denis in his retirement to be his assistant priest.
A year after he was ordained Stephen found himself as housemaster of his old house – Kemble. Amongst his pupils was a certain boy called McGurk, our Fr Simon, who remembers his as “fair and popular,” though, he added, “he did not spare the whack — as was customary in those days!”
Stephen also served in Belmont’s two prep schools - Alderwasley Hall, near Matlock in Derbyshire, and then Llanarth Court in Monmouthshire. He continued to teach — and coach sport —with energy and enthusiasm.
But the classroom was only the first chapter. In the 1980s he came to parish life — first at St David’s Swansea and then Abergavenny, where Fr Michael joined him as curate. Later, in 1998 he joined his old pupil Fr Simon again, this time as curate at St Francis Xavier’s in Hereford — a happy partnership. His final parish appointment would be as parish priest of Weobley.
Fr Stephen also specialised in caring for nuns. At first he thought he would be a little overawed by the “great dames” of Stanbrook, then in Worcestershire where he served as their chaplain. But he soon discovered they were wonderfully normal and decidedly down to earth. The sisters remember him with great affection to this day.
And when in Weobley his health began to fail and dementia set in, it was the “great dames” of Colwich, Staffordshire who welcomed him. He was very happy there, and the sister’s looked out for him and helped him manage his declining memory.
Increased frailty brought him home to Belmont. You might imagine that after so long out on the mission, a return to the motherhouse could seem a little forbidding, losing some of his freedom and independence. But it was just right for him, the monastic routine good for him. He settled in and was very happy - and made us very happy with his cheerful spirit. The routine, I think, helped his dementia. The company of his soulmates like Fr Joseph and Fr Simon a great tonic. He loved a bit of friendly banter – he was great with guests.
One was an American YouTube star who was so captivated by Fr Stephen that he became the star of the video. His long term memory meant he could recount many stories from the distant past, even as he had long given up knowing even the Abbot’s name.
Of course, Fr Stephen’s happiness was helped by the assiduous care given by Br Dunstan, our infirmarian, ably assisted by Br Alban. Their kindness and competence ensured he was well looked-after.
His dementia had its challenges, frustrations and offered the occasional moment of hilarity. Sometimes he became very animated when he sang the cursing psalms, the more violent the language the more he seemed to relish them! He licked his lips: “the wicked man ginds his teeth” the way of the wicked “leads to doom,” he shouted out, perhaps starling those listening on livestream, his chair unfortunately just below the microphone. As they listened prayerfully to vespers, the peaceful calm of the chant they might hear a voice exclaim: “Nicknakynoo, stinky stinky poo!”
On several occasions, just as the celebrant started his homily, Stephen would snarl and shout out “Get on with it.” But then give a look that made you think butter would never melt in his mouth.
The truth was that this once supreme sportsman and ´Victor ludorum’ was reduced to struggling around on a broken hip. He was in pain, but he didn’t want to let it bother him. He set us the best example and became one of the most observant monks, wanting to be here in the church, or with the brethren elsewhere. His quiet dutifulness was an expression of his faith.
A few weeks ago he fell on the stairs which lead to his quick final decline and death in the Herefordshire County Hospital. His brother was with him when he died. In the words of St Paul, he had fought the good fight, he had finished the race. He had kept the faith.
One final personal recollection. We heard in the Gospel the story of the disciples on the Road to Emmaus. In one sense that could be story of Stephen’s priestly ministry. Helping the faithful recognize that the Lord walks among us, helping them meet the Lord in the quiet holiness of their ordinary lives, in their joys and sorrows. Bringing the presence of the Lord to them in the Eucharist and in the Sacraments, bringing, the Lord’s forgiveness, healing, and blessing.
Pilgrimage
It brought to mind a moment we once shared as pilgrims on the road— far from home. We were on the banks of the Euphrates in Syria, near the Iraqi border — about as distant from Herefordshire as one could imagine. There, among the ancient ruins of Dura-Europos, the oldest Christian church in existence, built around the year 250, we celebrated Mass together.
We celebrated as pilgrims have always done — on the stones of ancient faith, in communion with the Church through the ages, on a path that even Abraham had once taken.
Then came the moment of the elevation. We raised the Host, we raised the Chalice — the gesture Stephen had made so many thousands of times among his people. And suddenly — the dull, grey sky was flooded with a blaze of orange light.
It was as though creation itself lifted its face in praise. Whether it was miracle or providential timing, it was a moment of glory — the veil between heaven and earth drawn back for an instant.
The disciples on the road to Emmaus recognised the Lord in the breaking of bread. So did we that day — a glimpse of the light that awaits us all.
A glimpse of that transforming power of God, who will take our frail, mortal bodies, our broken hips, our failing minds, and make them new.
“In the twinkling of an eye,” says St Paul, “we shall be changed.”
We shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.
And so today, we commend Stephen to that same radiant glory. Come Lord, and take your servant Stephen home. May the Lord whom he served at the altar now receive him at the banquet of eternal life.
May he rest in peace — and rise in glory.
Abbot Brendan 5th November 2025
