Tom Dick

AN APPRECIATION

TOM Dick, who has died aged 85, was a poet of the pulpit and an occasionally irreverent reverend who had a rare gift for communication both through the spoken and written word.

A passionate and persuasive preacher, a compassionate and understanding pastor, a loving husband, a devoted dad, grandad and great-grandfather, a faithful friend, a witty raconteur and a writer of verse, he devoted his life to enriching the lives of others.

He enjoyed the company of his fellow man and always saw the best in them – whatever their background.

Whether visiting an elderly parishioner on the 18th floor of a Glasgow high-rise block during his time at Scotstoun East or mixing with the gentry who would occasionally appear for a Society wedding at Dunkeld Cathedral, he invariably found common ground.

He had little time for the politics of religion and was known to return from weighty sessions of the General Assembly bearing humorous sketches which gently poked fun at the long-winded proceedings of the day.

Soon after his induction at the Relief Parish Church in Irvine in the 1950s, he showed the common touch that was to characterise his career by appearing in the pulpit with the Scottish Junior Cup.

It had been won the day before by Irvine Meadow and it is said that some of the team were in the congregation, making sure the young minister took good care of their hard-earned silverware.

He moved to Glasgow in 1963 to embark on a successful ministry at Scotstoun East.

It was a period of great happiness in both his personal and his professional life, at once experiencing the joy of helping raise a young family while developing a thriving church community.

His popularity was such that there was more than one attractive soprano in the choir who shed a tear when he announced his departure in 1974.

The move to Dunkeld paved the way for the final flowering of a memorable ministerial career.

Here, early challenges had to be overcome particularly in the uniting of Dunkeld Cathedral and Little Dunkeld, two parishes less than a mile apart but divided by the Telford Bridge over the River Tay.

There was considerable opposition on both sides but he brokered a pragmatic compromise and the introduction of the Bridge magazine, which he initially edited, became a symbol of a successful merger.

It was entirely fitting that his final journey took him over that same bridge.

From Dunkeld Cathedral to the cemetery at Little Dunkeld the mourners processed in homage to a great man who had lived his life in the service of others.

The hearse may have stopped at the attractive graveyard on the banks of the Tay but those who knew him were aware that the journey for him had one final leg – in particular those who attended the funeral service and heard one of his own poems which concludes with the following verse:

And when that Voice so strong yet sweet

Beckons to yonder Land

You’ll see His Face when there you meet

On Heaven’s golden strand.