The irrepressible writer, dramatist and Anglican priest talks to Lucy Lethbridge about transformation and how his work is all part of one indivisible ‘holy theatre’

On the morning of the centenary of the Armistice, James Roose-Evans, who was 91 that day, celebrated his final Eucharist at St Mary’s church, Primrose Hill. He paid typical attention to the details of the liturgy, weighing the importance not only of words but of clothing and symbols and movement. All were fitting echoes not only of Roose-Evans’ vocation as an Anglican priest and his long and successful career in experimental theatre, but of a life filled with conversation and friendship, silence and reflection.

For this final service, he wore a beautiful cassock and alb made by the Cistercians of Mount Melleray Abbey in County Waterford, given to him by the prior. In his sermon, he spoke of the washing of the disciples’ feet on Maundy Thursday, a moment in the New Testament to which he has returned many times. This simple act of humility carries extraordinary symbolic power, and Roose-Evans himself has used it hundreds of times in retreats and workshops over the years.