A little while ago, longer than I would ever care to say, Joy Mills lent me an Order of Service: for a service of thanksgiving for the life of Bishop Benzies. He was the Bishop, you may recall, with whom we worked, as a parish, to provide housing for handicapped people in his beloved land of Madagascar.  (Click here for more details of our fund-raising programme). The Order of Service, interspersed with appreciations and also words of the Bishop himself, makes delightful reading. On the back of what is quite a substantial booklet there is as follows:

 Trust me, I'm a bishop
My companions on the Sambava trek were all a mere third of my age and they coped cheerfully with my geriatric speed over the many hill paths.

Six were in scout uniform and that caused much alarm in jungle villages where they were easily mistaken for gendarmes. People passing us on the paths would alert villages to the imminent arrival of a posse of police. By the time that we got there, everyone with any sense had retreated into his hut and shut the door until we were safely past. Wherever possible, we reassured people that we were merely en route to the church in such-and- such a village and that our bodyguards were only Anglican scouts. Our buying bananas or rice buns with money usually convinced people, the more so as gendarmes would not dream of paying. Wild fruit is plentiful and free -oranges and jackfruit and avocados and thousands of wild strawberries, beautiful to look at but so tasteless that only children and bishops bother to eat them.

Just call me 'Benzies'
I have confirmed what I long suspected, that hardly anyone knows my name despite my 20 years as bishop. I am known as 'Monseigneur' or 'the Bishop' and, if that is not enough, people add 'the European one' or'the one with glasses', and there may well be direr terms which are carefully kept from me. Partly this is a cultural feature, whereby it can seem impolite  or excessively familiar to use a person's name. Instead, s/he is called the more respectful 'the father/mother of Victor', 'the uncle/aunt of Pierre' or even 'the grandmother of Marie'. In a similar vein, it would be thought too abrupt if anyone were to ask, 'Some more coffee, Bishop?' rather than the more usual respectful 'Would Monseigneur care for more coffee?'

This becomes second nature and I, in turn, never use 'you' in public but always say 'Would Madame please take this letter for the archdeacon?'

No name, no certificate
My vanity mutinies at the prospect of eventually vanishing into diocesan history as merely 'The bishop with glasses' and I have been declining to sign confirmation certificates unless the newly confirmed can tell me my name. I send them off to their lay reader for this unexpectedly vital detail and even some of the lay readers have then to skim through the lectionary to find and try to pronounce my surname.

And there is this, earlier on, in the Introduction to the service –

  Bishop Keith Benzies' death in Madagascar prematurely ends a brilliant and profoundly traditional Anglican missionary ministry. Keith was a great man of God whose unswerving, self-sacrificial ministry combined personal austerity with unlimited generosity to those around him which verged on indulgence and made him a figure to be reckoned with, a man never to be forgotten.

He loved telling stories and stories abound about him. Born in 1938, he developed his very considerable linguistic skills at Glasgow University and remained proud of his Scottish background. After training for the priesthood at Salisbury and a curacy at Hull, Keith began his life's work as a USPG missionary to Madagascar. Appointed to St Paul' s Theological College, Ambatoharanana, at a time when expatriate missionaries were still very much part of the management team of the church, Keith was soon running the theological college, and primary and secondary schools (including a boarding department) and administering various funds from overseas.

When Keith Benzies first went out to Madagascar, he agreed to be the focus of a USPG project. Over the years those who supported the project got to know him through his entertaining letters and his speaking and preaching engagements during his frequent fundraising visits to Britain. He has shared with us the joys and trials of the Christian Church in Madagascar. Countless people have supported his ministry by their prayers and donations.

Keith was a very humble man, who lived out in his own life the saying, 'Live simply that others may simply live'. He spent his holidays visiting remote churches in the rain forests of Madagascar and on the coast, and undertook all his administrative work himself without even basic office equipment. Keith shared everything he had with those in need. His bishop's house was home to many people who had nowhere else to live. His door was always open and his hospitality unstinted. Often he worked late into the night on diocesan administration because his days were spent dealing with people's needs. Such was his reputation for hospitality that on occasions he would come home and find someone he'd never met before sitting in the lounge watching the television or joining in the evening meal!

When he was elected Bishop of Antsiranana (formerly Diego Suarez) in 1982, Keith immediately began trekking through his remote and far flung diocese -and continued to do so for the rest of his life. A desperate shortage of clergy meant a great deal of travelling. Having no car, Bishop Keith used local taxis over treacherous roads, or travelled by bus, on foot, by canoe and, occasionally, by air. Those who had the privilege of accompanying him on his visits saw him, not just as a Bishop, but as an 'adoptive' father and a friend. He had two great 'burdens' -the care of handicapped young people and education for children in remote areas. They became for him his family, for whom he fought endlessly -

providing homes, food, clothing, medical care and wheelchairs. His four unofficial adopted sons were a great joy to him and they loved him dearly. At times some of the handicapped young people were rejected by their natural family and community, but the Bishop's commitment to them knew no limits. Bishop Keith loved people and went out of his way to encourage and help them. Wherever he went, he was greeted with affection and respect. However, he was not afraid of speaking out when this was necessary.

For those who have never been to Madagascar, it is difficult to imagine the poverty and despair of people. Years of political confusion and economic mismanagement, and natural disasters such as devastating cyclones, have left the economy in tatters. At a time when Madagascar threatens to be tom apart in civil war to the apparent indifference of most of the world, Bishop Keith 's death represents a serious loss to the country and its Anglican Church (Eklesia Episkopaly).

It was against a background of poverty and strife that Bishop Keith ministered. He lived like the poor because he was Father in God to the poor. May he have a worthy memorial in the continuation of his work. His death leaves many feeling orphaned.

 Thank you, Joy.

Alan Morris

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