PAST REGISTRAR OF THE DIOCESE OF CAPETOWN
The Story of the Good Samaritan
Luke 10: 25 On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ he asked, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ (Jesus then tells the story of the Good Samaritan, and ends with the phrase):
36 ‘Which of these three do you think was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?’ Another translation says: which of these three proved himself neighbour to the man,
Max’s life was one of service. He had heard and imbibed the Christian message of the Good Samaritan, of good neighbourliness. For him the Law and service to his clients and the wider community went hand in glove.
Honesty and integrity, in the telling of the truth was important to him. He seemed to cherish argument in the best sense the word and could be adversarial in putting his case – behind the mask, he was a gentle and compassionate man.
He would have played an important role in the 80s and 90s in the maelstrom of the dismantling of apartheid and the coming of democracy – Registrar of the Diocese of Cape Town in the years of Archbishops Desmond Tutu and Winston Ndungani. He played a vital role in the division of the Diocese of Cape Town into three Dioceses – Archbishop Ndungani wrote of him:
I am also deeply saddened by the news of the death of Max Hales………. We praise and thank God for his life, witness and contribution to both Church and Society….. In fact he is the one who opened the Cathedral doors to let me in during the service of my Enthronement as Archbishop. What a moving moment that was!!! May he rest in peace and rise in glory.
Later he wrote:
One other thing that impressed me about Max was that he never charged the Church for his professional services as Registrar…. That’s how dedicated he was.
The Family Man
Then there was Max the family man and what a special partnership in marriage Max and Rosemary shared as they nurtured and built their young family.
We turn to Shakespeare
love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
You know within this poem is the image of a boat/ship in the storms and beautiful fresh days as only yachtsmen know. There is the North Star to guide the craft. Where’s it going, what’s it all worth, the journey? The parents don’t know. But they journey in trust, and love for one another and their children.
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom:
What is the edge of doom? The edge of the sea where you fall off…
But love goes beyond that.
I knew Max and Rosemary here at St Francis and we continued to meet after Daphne and my stay here, and I have spoken about them both when Rosemary died. That event was a deep journey for him… sapping him of almost all his energy. But his children and grandchildren were able to be with him over Christmas and we celebrated communion with him beside his bed on Christmas Eve.
One of his great contributions here at St Francis was his vision of the stained glass windows to commemorate the vast community of people who lived in Simonstown and were moved away under the group areas Act of the 1960s. Beryl Kleynhans, the church warden who worked with him to fight for them to the bitter end recorded this:
A beautiful moment, which still makes me feel emotional was when in 2019, on the day the Memorial Stained Glass Windows were finally installed, Nicholas Esterhuizen, the skilled artisan had completed the finishing touches, I phoned Max to ask if he wanted to come and have a look.
Max’s daughter Catherine was visiting at the time. Max, Rosemary and Catherine came to the church. In the quiet, late afternoon Max and his family sat in the Pews and he had tears in his eyes. He was so overwhelmed with emotion.
As we commend Max to the love of God in the faith of the resurrection to eternal life, hear this poem by Antonio Machado and take comfort:
“Is My Soul Asleep” by Antonio Machado
Is my soul asleep?
Have those beehives that work
in the night stopped? And the water—
wheel of thought, is it
going around now, cups
empty, carrying only shadows?
No, my soul is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
It neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches,
its eyes wide open
far-off things, and listens
at the shores of the great silence.
Family take comfort in these words, and the Christian story of the resurrection. Let Max and Rosemary live on as the great family song, for love never end.
Faith, hope and love endure, but the greatest of these is love.
During the Memorial service the family and friends came forward to light candles, and while they did so the following poems were read:
Poetry for the lighting of the Candles
love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
Love looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom
No, my soul is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
It neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches,
its eyes wide open
far-off things, and listens
at the shores of the great silence.
If in the twilight of memory
We should meet again once more
We shall speak again together
And you shall sing to me in a deeper song
And if our hands should meet in another dream
We shall build another tower in the sky.
“Warm Summer Sun” by Walt Whitman
Warm summer sun,
Shine kindly here,
Warm southern wind,
Blow softly here.
Green sod above,
Lie light, lie light.
Good night, dear heart,
Good night, good night.
Two poems by Amelie Hales, Max and Rosemary’s granddaughter
Poem for Max
In your castle by the sea,
We sat, wide eyed
And eager
Listening to the stories
Of both you and Rosemary.
“Another” we would say.
Each Grand old tale excites.
Invoking a sense of understanding into
Our grandfather’s wise eyes.
We tentatively waited for
Your words to distil.
But too young were our minds
That our own words slipped by.
That we never even said
“Max, such big shoes to fill!”
So, this is it.
Our ode of
Sincere gratitude.
We give thanks to you,
For your gift of adventure and
Ever humble nature.
Your passing is a river
Trust,
Each day
You go on –
We’ll come to know each other,
Ever deeper,
As each day goes on.
Poem for Rosemary
Simons Town’s Rock
By Amelie Hales
Meet me out there
Just outside Simons Town’s
sea-rock.
Where the burning sun
takes its rest –
I know
You know the one.
You will come
Adorned in pearls
Wearing deep red lipstick
And hair fully done.
I imagine you saying
“No one’s overdressed
For a final farewell.”
Although
Mince pies and
Worldly travel
Are now far from hand.
The grace of the sea
is waiting for you.
And
We can make it,
You told me
if we swim out.
bobcommin.com 
Quite beautiful, Bob, thank you for sharing.
Good poetry really does evoke images like almost nothing else.
I also like these words of Rumiâs which I am sure you know:
Out beyond the ideas of
wrongdoing and rightdoing
there is a field.
Iâll meet you there.
When the soul lies down
in that grass,
the world is too full
to talk about.
Ideas, language,
Even the phrase each other
Doesnât make any sense.
How the lucky the family were to have you journey with them.
All the best
Kind Regards,
Greg
[Bishops Diocesan College]
Greg Brown
PREP
Headmaster
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