Reverend Monsignor Canon Cyril Murtagh died aged 95 on August 18.

He had been parish priest in Petersfield for many years before moving to Liphook.

On Saturday, August 21, a Mass was held at St Laurence’s Catholic Church in Station Road, Petersfield, for the repose of his soul.

In 2019, Father (how he always liked to be called) Murtagh spoke about his calling, life and view of the church.

’Canon law says you offer to resign 75. Well, at 75, I didn’t want to retire – I was well enough to go on. And the bishop was only too glad to have someone carrying on.

Then I collapsed in January 2019. I needed a valve in my heart, and they inserted it under local anaesthetic.

It’s done very well, hasn’t it? I was 92 then; now (June 2019), I’m almost 93.

I wanted to be a priest from childhood. When I got into the sixth form, the Second World War was on, so I had to go into the army.

Then I went to Oxford on a scholarship. I was enjoying myself too much, but, finally, I had to face the question of what next.

And an insistent voice within me said: “You know perfectly well what you’ve got to do.”

My brother Joe was already a priest and at the end of my time at Oxford, we went to see his bishop – and he sent me to Rome for seven years.

When I was ordained, there was still this hangover, in Ireland, that it was respectable to have a priest in the family. I thought that was rubbish.

What we wanted were good followers of the Lord, priests or not.

In rural parishes, it used to be said the duty of a Catholic was to “pay, obey and pray”. It’s not like that now. People today don’t have blind faith. They ask more questions, and want to be directed in a more adult way.

Now I think we’re getting more committed, better-quality, priests.

To them, I’d say respect your people, see how it looks from their side. They are having a harder time than you.

I think people came to me because I listened, and wouldn’t say “it’s all very easy, say three Hail Marys!” I’d say, “think about this” or “try to see it this way”. And, if I got stuck, I’d ask the Lord: “Look, you dumped this on me. What am I going to do?”

I’d also get advice from secular experts. Whatever would help.

The best thing is being of service. Meeting people where they are. Trying to do what you can for them, and serving the Lord in those people. But you may not always feel like giving.

When a mother is woken by her kids, she doesn’t lie in bed saying: “God, why me?” She gets up!

I used to get tired and so on, but I never wanted to pack it in.

Sometimes it feels good. But it’s not for your benefit; there’s a need for it.

Jesus is saying, “give me a hand here” so it’s a call from Him to give.

How do you keep going? You’ve got the infinite Lord on tap! And if you’re doing his work, it will work out somehow.

I always believed I was called to the priesthood, and always believed in God. I’d say I can’t not believe; because it’s true! Am I certain? Absolutely!

There comes a point when you’re confronted by Jesus saying: “Do you believe?” And then you have to say “yes!”

A priest can have doubts, but he can resolve them. You just get off your backside and do something.

The failures in the priesthood have made terrible demands on believers.

The stuff that’s come out is horrible, distressing. But better out. I think in future the church will have to be humble, self-giving and tolerant, but also firm about being ready to say, “no, that’s wrong.”

Into your hands, Lord, I say. It’s his Church – not mine.

I’ve never had a religious experience. I’m not wanting voices whispering in my ear – I’d be very suspicious.

For me, above all, it’s been the example of good, ordinary Catholic people, the salt of the earth.

And I’ve had to accept retirement.

I like visits from former parishioners. I like getting out a bit, to do my shopping. And, sometimes, I like to say my prayers.

I say, “Give me what I need, Lord, to follow your will. Have mercy on me for the times I have failed. And thank you for all you’ve given me.”

Then I pray for all the people – the many people – who’ve been good to me.

I’d say I have a sustained conversation with the Lord.

And I’m trying to learn to say, “into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit”. I’m asking him for the strength to face the inevitable.

When I die, I won’t be leaving the Church. I’ll still be part of it. There’s eternal life and if I reach out, he will take my hand.

And dare I hope he’ll say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of the Lord.”

I don’t know, but I know he loves me. There’s no accounting for taste, but there you are.’

Interview by kind permission of The Tablet, June 13, 2019.