John - later Barnabas - Sandeman was throughout life a splendid companion. The dullest errand or most wearisome expedition would be transformed by his companionship. This gift of sociability was used to the full in his apostolate but consciously subject to the end in view, for he would at times make himself dull to avoid getting caught up in merely social engagements.
John was born in Oxford on 11th June 1910 as the fifth member of a family already consisting of three girls and a boy; a younger sister was to follow later. Their father, George David Sandeman, was an author and editor, and John was to inherit his literary bent. Apart from one English grandmother, the family was of Scottish extraction, their mother, Catherine Edith (née Brown), being a Scots Canadian. Both parents and the three elder children had been Presbyterians but had become Catholics partly as the result of internal dissension within the Church of Scotland around 1903. The family had come south to Oxford before John was born and, except for a couple of years back in Scotland when he was still very young, his home was to be there until he entered at Ampleforth.
He was a friendly, outgoing child, interested in what was going on around him. When not yet three he astonished the grown-ups at a children's party by suddenly getting up and executing a solo dance in imitation of a squib which had caught his fancy. Oxford was a pleasant place to grow up in: living between two rivers, it was natural that boating and swimming should be favourite occupations in summer and it was always easy to get out into the country.
John went to a small preparatory school in Oxford at the age of five. When he was eleven, nine months spent in Italy with some of the family proved particularly enriching for him. Besides learning Italian, he came into contact for the first time with the world of art, and his elementary knowledge of Latin acquired a new dimension among the excavations in the Roman forum. His character was also developing and he began to show an ability for helping others - whether it was a matter of a refractory electric iron baffling two Englishwomen, a plank across a river which had proved too hair-raising for one of the party, or the delicate task of preparing another member of the family to face confession in Italian. Of course he was a normal boy and squabbles inevitably arose: collections of postcards had to be clearly initialled on the back, and rival collections of coins were charged if possible with still greater emotional dynamism. All the same, something far more important was evident by this time: whether he told them or not, those who knew him took it for granted that John would be a priest. He had a decided inclination towards the things of God.
His elder brother Austin was already at school at Ampleforth and John's eagerness to follow him there could be gauged by his misery at a moment when it seemed that family funds might not rise to fees for a second boy. Fortunately it proved possible after all and he went to Ampleforth in 1922. One thing he reported at home was that, unlike some elder brothers, Austin did not ignore him but was in fact very kind to him. Although there was an age-gap of more than four and a half years between them, the two were inseparable in the holidays. This meant that John was initiated into interests of a more mechanical nature than he would have chosen if left to himself. Perhaps this was a good thing: he certainly showed considerable practical ability and real ingenuity in one or two areas, e.g. experimental photography.
Glancing through school notes in the Ampleforth Journal 1923-29, one gets an impression of an intelligent, rather diffident boy passing unobtrusively through the school, certainly not good at games but getting his swimming colours for all that. Gradually his own particular talents begin to emerge: we see him carrying off prizes for Greek, Latin and Physics and eventually becoming a house monitor.
A few incidents must be added to fill out this rather bald sketch. Once when sent to the Penance Walk for some offence he became so engrossed in a game he invented as he paced up and down, that he forgot to come off it. Evidently he could entertain himself as well as other people.
Shortly after leaving school, Austin crashed on a motor-bike and his leg was badly smashed. Recovery was a very long drawn-out affair and when at last his crutches could be discarded his delighted family wired the news to John at Ampleforth. The authorities were misled by the family code and gravely summoned him to enquire whether he had been betting!
When the time came for deciding what subjects he would specialise in, the classics and science masters contended for him. There was a parental interview with the headmaster and finally the boy himself was asked what he wanted to be. His answer 'a priest, Sir' tipped the scales in favour of the classics, but the science master still offered to give him special tuition.
On leaving school John went up to Oxford and read for Honour Mods and Greats at New College. He did not make the mistake of concentrating too narrowly on his own subject but was open to other interests as well. These included a passing enthusiasm for bell-ringing and a more serious commitment to the Catholic Evidence Guild. His first sermon, so he said, was preached to a statue of King Alfred and a cat in the square at Wantage. For exercise he rowed and once featured in Eights in New College III, which happened to do rather well in its low position on the river. A life-long friend of his from New College days writes:
The two things went together - light-heartedness and a talent for languages. Where a more serious-minded student might stand tongue-tied abroad, worrying about points of grammar, John would splash ahead, making a joke of the whole thing but progressing rapidly. In 1930 he spent the summer vac in Germany. On the journey out, hearing someone else say 'Schnellzugzuschlag' as they passed the ticket-collector, he repeated the magic formula as he rushed past too. Confronted on arrival by an elderly countess who remarked how chilly it was, he cheerfully answered 'ja, schön' and flung open the window. One of his favourite German sentences was 'ich habe zwanzig Schwestern' (I have twenty sisters).
One of his Greats tutors, still happily with us, writes:
Forty years later John's friendship with this tutor was to flower again as we shall see. Meanwhile he got a second in Greats and went down in 1932.
The question now arose, what sort of priest was he going to be? Fr D'Arcy had had his eye on him and rather hoped that he and another young man at Oxford would enter the Society together. John made a retreat on Jesuit lines to discover his true vocation. All considerations seemed to add up to: 'Go back to Ampleforth and enter there'. Humanly speaking this was rather a disappointment: at the time it would have seemed more exciting to respond to the challenge 'what shall I do for Christ my Lord?' within the Society of Jesus. Fortunately Fr Felix Hardy turned up in Oxford on holiday at this moment and saved the situation. 'You've got it wrong' he said, 'it's a matter of what Christ is going to do for you!' After that it was all right: John went to Ampleforth, was given the name of Barnabas - his own second choice - and was clothed on 19th September 1932. Just at first he wondered 'how long is this rest cure going to go on?'. This time it was Fr Placid Dolan who came to the rescue with his deep spiritual understanding and opened up a new and joyful outlook for Brother Barnabas.
It was a fair sized novitiate with Fr Laurence Buggins as novicemaster, a man one could not help trusting and respecting - blunt, straightforward and wholehearted in his vocation. Novitiate conferences may not have been all that inspiring, and conversation on novitiate walks was particularly sticky, but Brother Barnabas survived and was simply professed on 21st September 1933.
Two years later, to the astonishment of most people, his elder brother Austin, by then a Flight Lieutenant, decided to leave the Air Force and try his vocation at Ampleforth too. He entered the novitiate as Brother Michael in September 1935 and was simply professed just before Brother Barnabas's solemn profession which took place on 21st September 1936.
Towards the end of his juniorate Brother Barnabas had been sent to St Benet's Hall to do his theology at Blackfriars. Fr Justin McCann encouraged him also to have some German lessons while he was in Oxford - a providential suggestion as things turned out. There was a special bond between the two, as Brother Barnabas took a genuine interest in Fr Justin's scholarly work.
On 23rd July 1939 Dom Barnabas was ordained priest. He was astonished to find himself so much aware of the grace given to him on that day and of the wonder of celebrating Mass. Two years later he had the joy of being present at his brother's ordination.
For Fr Barnabas there was no conflict between priesthood and school-mastering. Asked later in life whether the priestly part of him did not sometimes long for a more pastoral outlet, he replied 'not a bit!': he considered it just as much a priestly office to instruct the minds of the young, as to do organisational work in a parish. This reverence for human minds was the key to his success as a teacher.
This is how an Old Amplefordian saw it from the receiving end; he writes:
Nor was it only classics or the 'set pieces' of literature: we would look at the quirks of language: what a foreigner would make of 'Now then!' or 'Pretty ugly'; what religious or cultural factors made a German peasant say 'After all, he's a Christian' though he might mean no more than his English counterpart's 'He's a human being'; and whether there was, indeed, a counter-part; and why an Englishman, however much he might love it, found Italian such a 'blush-making' language. We were fortunate, as indeed was he, that we worked in a system flexible and adult enough to allow time for such excursions which are surely just what 'humane studies' are about; a study not only of how a language is used but what it is worth using for.
At Ampleforth I was happier and luckier in my teachers than I had any right to expect. In the forefront, and with special affection I recall Fr Barnabas, united now to that 'main line' of illustrious souls whom he taught his pupils, in some part, to recognise and to appreciate.
The year after his Ordination Fr Barnabas was appointed Junior Master, an office he held for six years. For some reason or other this appointment does not seem to have been an unqualified success. Perhaps with his youthful zeal and energy he was rather too anxious to scrape off the rust. Later on as director of the Juniors' studies he must have been invaluable.
From 1937 to 1974 he was the Librarian of the Abbey, holding that office longer than any other monk in living memory. His services to the library numbered more years than that, however: the two previous incumbents had welcomed his assistance, and he remained a willing support to his successor, both in controlling the budget of the Classics section, and in providing from his astonishing memory a ready answer to many an enquiry about manuscripts or rare printed books.
The minutes of the Abbot's Council inform us that on 9th September 1952 Fr Barnabas Sandeman was elected Secretary of the Council on his first appearance in that body. Some 750 pages of minutes follow in his hand before the following record of 25th August 1980:
A totally new and far-reaching apostolate opened up for Fr Barnabas when he was asked to serve as chaplain to successive groups of Italian, German and Austrian prisoners in a POW camp near Ampleforth. He threw himself wholeheartedly into the task, spending Saturday nights at the camp, ministering to them on Sunday and then returning to Ampleforth for the week's work. The men responded warmly to his efforts on their behalf and he had many entertaining incidents to relate. Mass for the Italians was certainly 'living liturgy': a gramophone concealed beneath the altar might suddenly go off, or a bugle sound in his ear at the consecration. Then there were the Austrians who put on a splendid entertainment for him, to celebrate New Year 1946; the delicately painted programme was a real work of art.
But this was only one side of it all: he was dealing with men who might be agonising about their wives and children or the uncertainty of the future, and who were in any case enduring severe physical hardship themselves, and he felt their sufferings acutely. Though he tried to hold on to Dostoyevsky's formula 'not to let one's heart harden or bleed to death', it was a time of strain for him. He was becoming aware of his powers of love, sympathy and vision - this last in the sense that he was more aware than most of us of the opportunities of the moment. Vision can isolate a man, and in later life Fr Barnabas was to draw inspiration and comfort from Newman, to whom he prayed every day. But at the moment the infirmarian feared that the strain was telling on his health, so he was given six months off work. Because of all he had done for the POWs and his contact with refugees, he was invited to give a few short radio talks in German at the end of 1945. His message, which is said to have made a deep impression, was full of humility, repentance, peace and encouragement. It opened with a quotation from a poem from the first world war:
1st nur gerichtet auf Gerechtigkeit.
- a couplet which almost defies translation but implies that the silent pleading of so many folded hands has but one object - justice. The talks were delivered on consecutive Sundays, about three in all.
A further development was that Fr Barnabas was invited to attend a meeting at Holloway College, organised by the Committee of British Societies for Relief Abroad, for about eighty influential German women, Lutheran as well as Catholic. Only at the last moment did he discover that he was expected to give the opening address as Fr Agnellus Andrew was ill. He shut himself up in a room at Holloway and, with the help of the Holy Spirit and a competent human adviser, managed to prepare a talk which really spoke to the audience. By the end of the meeting Lutherans as well as Catholics were referring to 'our dear Fr Barnabas'.
The outcome of all this was that early in 1949 Cardinal Griffin wrote to Abbot Byrne asking whether Fr Barnabas would be a suitable person to act as liaison between the Allied Control Commission and the German hierarchy. With characteristic truthfulness Abbot Byrne cautiously replied that it would depend on the policy of the commission and the kind of people working on it. 'What I am trying to express is that he can deal very well with reasonable people, but obstinate prejudice (on either side) would reduce him to more complete helplessness and desperation than it would many others.' What light this throws on the characters of both abbot and monk! But Cardinal Griffin was evidently satisfied and Fr Barnabas was asked whether he would take on the work. Fr Paul Nevill was not unnaturally loathe to lose his classics master and thought it would be difficult to find a substitute; however, Fr Barnabas himself found two good candidates for the post in one afternoon, and when all necessary preparations had been made, set out for his year's work in Germany.
The headquarters of the Religious Affairs Department were then in Bünde but later on he was sometimes working elsewhere. A car and driver were always obtainable for visiting places within the British zone. Besides work at episcopal level there would be appeals from religious orders or isolated individuals. When visiting German monasteries more than twenty years later, if his name was mentioned one would still hear reactions such as: 'he got my uncle released when he was needed to look after the farm', or 'he persuaded the British to let me re-open my school', or even 'it was through him that you heard we needed choir books'. Clearly he was well liked and did a good job in Germany.
When the year was up he returned to Ampleforth and settled down again to teaching in the school with the added responsibility of professor of moral theology. For many years to come his summer holidays were spent in Germany or Austria with a number of intimate friends, through whom he also had links with Switzerland and Italy. He particularly loved mountain scenery and some of his closest friends witness to his energy and courage on occasional climbing expeditions.
1967 was an important landmark in the life of Fr Barnabas for it was in that year that his work for contemplative nuns began. It all started with Abbot Hume's consulting him about a question which had arisen at a pastoral meeting as to how assistance could be provided for Carmelite nuns. Fr Barnabas proposed a scheme for a small commission, including a bishop as one of its members and a secretary to do the work. The next thing was that he was asked to see about implementing the scheme himself, and so the subcommission for Carmelites came into being, linked to the hierarchy's commission for religious. Fr Barnabas undertook his work with especial zeal as he had been familiar with matters relating to the apostolate of women in the Church literally since his teens. Of his three elder sisters one had become a Holy Child nun, the second a Carmelite and the third, a doctor, had been a missionary in Africa before devoting her life to psychiatric work for children in this country. So, given the chance now to help the Carmelites and later other contemplative nuns as well, he took it with both hands. A photograph of the former Father General of the Carmelites and Fr Barnabas, reproduced to commemorate an historic meeting of Carmelite nuns in England, has printed underneath it:
At the EBC general chapter in 1969 he was asked to be on a similar commission for Benedictine nuns. No time was wasted and two months afterwards the Free Association came into being. Fr Barnabas's commitments within the EBC had also increased considerably: in 1969 he was appointed Assessor and put on the constitutions commission. He also acted as secretary of chapter in this year as well as at the two subsequent general chapters in 1973 and 1977.
He was tireless in his work for nuns at both spiritual and organisational levels, serving communities and individuals with all the means in his power. A few years' experience made him increasingly aware of how badly in need of sound economic advice many communities were, and so in 1972 an Economic Commission was formed, to work in conjunction also with Anglicans. A central office was established with a secretary available for consultation by any of the contemplative communities. In the following year he was himself astonished to receive a phone call from a would-be benefactor - who wished to remain anonymous - offering funds to be available for the use of contemplative nuns. This was not only a great help from a material point of view but seemed an encouraging indication that God was well pleased with the work. The Holy Rood Trust was set up to administer the funds.
In 1973, a year joyfully celebrated by Fr Barnabas as his 'grand climacteric', renewed contact with his former tutor at New College led to the first of a series of five annual visits to the famous Chalet on the lower reaches of Mont Blanc, once the property of 'Sligger' Urquhart and still in use for reading parties. Besides the joy of an enriching friendship with his former tutor, he was glad to be in touch with keen young minds and especially welcomed the contacts with Anglicans. Closely connected with his visits to the Chalet was the invitation he received to preach at New College after Evensong on Sunday 23 February 1975. This recognition by his old college meant a great deal to him, especially as he was also invited to say Mass in the chapel on the following morning, a Mass he offered for New College itself. 'New College', as he afterwards wrote to a friend. 'is so very much more than just 'Oxford''.
This same year brought the sorrow of Fr Michael's death at the end of June. He had undergone a serious operation the week before but seemed to be making good progress. Fr Barnabas spent some happy hours with him on the 28th. Two days later Fr Michael collapsed unexpectedly and died before anyone from Ampleforth could reach him.
By this time two questions may well have arisen in the mind of an attentive reader: why was it that a man of such obvious ability occupied no position of special responsibility within his own monastery? - and what really made him tick or in other words what was his prayer-life like? An attempt will be made to answer both before going on to the last lap of his life...
The answer to the first is simple: it was his own choice. On the day Fr Paul Nevill died Abbot Byrne asked Fr Barnabas whether he would take on being headmaster. His considered reply was that if he were told to he would go down and address the boys that very evening, but if the choice were left to himself he would leave the job to another man - Fr William in point of fact. This was not an isolated decision; there were two or three others like it. He did not want professionalism or a 'career' to impede his search for God as a monk. Such decisions cost him a great deal: they were taken in faith and he could never be certain that he was not mistaken. By and large, facts seem to support the view that he was right: these renunciations left him free to assist successive abbots in an unofficial capacity. to do much for the Congregation and especially to work for the welfare of contemplative nuns.
People have sometimes spoken of the impression it made on them to see Fr Barnabas at prayer. Probably few of us could say, as he could: 'prayer has always been a delight to me'. At the heart of his prayer life was his sense of sonship - a realisation that despite our sinfulness we can all claim a place within the words of the Father: 'This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.' In that place he prayed and to it he returned for strength and healing. Hence his joy and resilience. This filial attitude also informed his relations with his superiors, including those younger than himself. An amazing incident illustrates this. He was setting off on a journey once with an abbot formerly junior to himself. They arrived too early at York station so sat down to have a cup of coffee. Fr Barnabas was so intent on being filial and leaving it to the abbot to make the first move that the train came in and went off without them!
On 15 October 1977 Fr Barnabas, 'green with envy', watched the three monks destined for the experimental contemplative foundation at Little Crosby set off in the strangely loaded vehicle. He had taken considerable interest in their plans and given them warm support, but by this time there was more to it than that: he was being powerfully drawn in the same direction himself. He obtained leave to spend the summer holidays of both 1978 and '79 at Little Crosby and eventually to his immense joy was sent to join the community as a permanent member as from July 1980. His enthusiasm for the simplicity of the life led there, the fraternal transparency of the brethren and their openness to all who cared to drop in, knew no bounds. To him it was somehow or other the land of vision and intimately connected with the coming of the Kingdom for which he longed and was praying without reservation: 'so' he explained 'anything may happen!'. He thought if he got there he might manage to go off with a 'whoop of joy instead of a geriatric whimper'. 'What a most extraordinary favour it is', he wrote 'that I should have this violent vocation so late in life.' At his last Christmas on earth he preached two memorable homilies at Stanbrook: one before the feast on the theme 'Come off it!' and one on Christmas Day - surely amongst the shortest ever delivered - on 'listening to the Word in silence'. Little Crosby stood precisely for both these things.
He arranged to go there on the first possible day after 11 July. Meanwhile he enjoyed the Westminster celebrations to the hilt: 'a most worthy. splendid and joyful occasion'. 14 July was 'B Day' for him - his entrance day at the Barn. Three weeks later he wrote in what he termed his 'cancellaresca geriatrica' - for type-writers have no place at Little Crosby - 'Meanwhile the Barn is wholly delightful...life is energetic and I think I may have to accept certain physical remissions...our new site is on the estate of v. friendly nursing nuns...so unless I succeed in falling dead on the compost heap or being fatally mugged in Liverpool - my highest ambition - my dying pillow will probably be in an expensive nursing home...'
Several years ago Fr Barnabas had been warned that his heart condition was none too good but apart from taking the prescribed pills he did not make much alteration in his normal way of living. When begged to spare himself he replied with the unanswerable question 'what for?'. So at Little Crosby, as one would expect, he worked hard in the garden, probably rather too hard.
All three professed members of the community intended to return to Ampleforth on 11 August for the special renewal retreat. As they walked along the track to the main road chatting together. Fr Barnabas suddenly put down his bag, said 'Oh, I'm so sorry', fell to the ground and died.
His rocket-like departure was of course a terrible shock to all who knew him, but most especially to the brethren who were with him. However, at a deeper level one was forcibly reminded of Christ's words: 'if you loved me you would indeed be glad'. Fr Barnabas's death was, as someone pointed out, his contribution to renewal in the centenary year of St Benedict.
The first 'white' Requiem and funeral at Ampleforth, with Cardinal Hume as chief celebrant, were extraordinarily beautiful: the Cardinal, Fr Abbot and Abbot Sillem all bore testimony to their appreciation of the life and work of Fr Barnabas. When the long procession had wound its way up through the Monks' Wood, and the last rites were over, a strong sense of the power and joy of the Resurrection remained with the onlookers.
DOM JOHN BARNABAS SANDEMAN 11 Aug 1980
1910 11 Jun born Oxford
1922-28 edc at Ampleforth
1928-32 Oxford New College
1932 19 Sept Habit at Ampleforth Abbot Matthews
1933 21 Sept Simple Vows " "
1936 21 Sept Solemn Vows " "
1937 Apr Tonsure & Minor Orders " "
1937 18 Jul Subdeacon Bishop Shine
1938 17 Jul Deacon " "
1939 23 Jul Priest " "
1940-46 Junior Master
1949-50 Ecclesiastical liaison with Control Commission Germany
1950 Sept Returned to Staff at Ampleforth (classics)
1960 Sept In charge of Juniors Studies
1950-76 Professor of Moral Theology
1969- Secretary to the Free Association of OSB nuns
1980 Jul Little Crosby
1980 11 Aug died suddenly en route for Ampleforth retreat
1980 14 Jul Buried at Ampleforth on the hill - last place in vault