Ascension Thursday

Abbot Brendan Thomas • May 29, 2025

A Festival of the Future of the World: Abbot Brendan's Homily


 There is a certain image of the Ascension, very popular in the Middle Ages, that can be found in lots of churches, paintings, and manuscripts. In art terms they can be broadly categorized as ‘disappearing feet.’ They can be rather fun to look at, Christ’s bare feet dangling from the top of the frame, below the hem of his garment, the rest of his body already disappeared from sight, quite often behind a cloud. This type of image seems to be a rare Anglo-Saxon innovation and spread to become popular in northern Europe. They are quite fun to see, feet dangling from a roof boss.

 

They remind us of the Ascension, but do they help us understand what this mystery is all about? Something that Cardinal Ratzinger thought alien to the modern mind. It is no criticism of the artists. How do you paint a profound spiritual mystery like the Ascension, a mystery that touches on the material and the spiritual, earthly and the heavenly, summed up in the words of the Prophet Isaiah: Isaiah 40:5 “all flesh shall be the salvation of God.” (Luke 3:6, c.f. Isaiah 40:5)

 

But what does that really mean—for Christ, and for us? Pope Benedict sums it up well:

 

“The Ascension expresses our belief that in Christ human nature, the humanity in which we all share, has entered into the inner life of God in a new and hitherto unheard of way… Heaven is not a place beyond the stars; rather it is something much greater, something that requires far more audacity to assert: heaven means that man now has a place in God.”

 

That is quite a claim! Our humanity, in all its earthiness and fragility, has entered the very heart of the Trinity. The Ascension tells us that human life—our life—is not destined for oblivion, nor for endless wandering. In Christ, it has found its place, eternally secure in God.

 

So Karl Rahner, with his characteristic depth, called the Ascension “a festival of the future of the world.” He goes so far as to say: “The flesh is redeemed and glorified, for the Lord has risen forever. We Christians are, therefore, the most sublime of materialists.”

 

That’s not a celebration of consumerism or comfort, but a proclamation of faith: that the material world, our bodies, our time, our work, even our suffering—all are capable of being redeemed and glorified. Christ has taken them up and not cast them off. We believe not in escape from the world, but in its transfiguration.

 

Now, if we were writing the Gospel, how would we end it?

 

You might think the image of Jesus being lifted up, His feet vanishing into the sky, would suggest an ending. A farewell. A departure. And indeed, Luke ends his Gospel on that very note—but he doesn’t stop there. He begins the Acts of the Apostles with the same scene, only this time not as an ending, but as a beginning.

 

The Ascension marks a turning point. Not the conclusion of Jesus’ story, but the begining of His presence in a new way. It opens the door to Pentecost. It prepares the way for the Church and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit.

 

We need only note how the apostles responded to the Lord’s Ascension at Bethany.

 

If this was a farewell, you would think they would be grieving. But there are no handkerchiefs, no tears. Instead, Luke tells us, “While he blessed them…they worshipped him” and they went back to Jerusalem full of joy, continually blessing God.

 

Why such joy? Because they had come to understand that Jesus was not gone, but glorified. Not absent, but now present in a way even more profound. The Holy Spirit was not coming to replace Christ, but to make Him present in every place and time—in the heart of the Church, in the Word proclaimed, in the Sacraments, in our hearts.

 

Heaven is now joined to earth. Our humanity is lifted up, not left behind. Christ, the Head, has gone before us, and where the Head has gone, the Body hopes to follow.

 

So today, with the apostles, we rejoice. “Christ has entered into heaven itself.” (Heb 9:24) With the Church throughout the world, we lift up our eyes—not in nostalgia, not in loss—but in hope. We dare to believe that we, too, have a place in God.


God has gone up with shouts of joy.

Sing praise for God, sing praise! (Psalm 47)


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Bishop Mark Jabalé OSB RIP Given at his funeral by Dom Alexander Kenyon Baby Jean Pierre (Mark) Jabale was born on October 16th, 1933, in Alexandria, Egypt. As he said, himself, his background could be considered “cosmopolitan”: his father was Lebanese / French and his Mother, British / Greek / French. He also reminded people that he wasn’t Egyptian. Through his mother, Arlette, he was related to St. Jean Vianney, so it was, perhaps, no surprise that he followed in his priestly footsteps. His father, Jean, was MD of Fiat and Simca cars Europe and, maybe surprisingly or not, he did love a car – not, however, Italian cars, but German; he loved his Audis. Perhaps we should begin today by remembering his mother and father, his brothers Christian and Paul and his nieces, here today, Aline and Nathalie and Isabelle and their families – they were so dear to him and he to them and I know they miss him enormously. Young Jean wanted to join the Navy and came to England, to Belmont Abbey school but the Lord had other ideas – he ended up joining the rather land locked monastery, our dear, late Fr. Raymund opining that he wouldn’t last a month. After a rather uninspiring course of priestly studies (his words, not mine) he studied for a Licentiate in French literature in Fribourg, then a Dip Ed at Strawberry Hill and played Rugby there – the Papist Witch Doctor as he was affectionately known. Teaching followed, at Belmont, Housemaster, acting Headmaster, then to Alderwasley, our prep school in Derbyshire as Headmaster, and then back to Belmont soon after as Headmaster. In 1983 he went to Peru to build our first monastery there only to realise there was little money. So, he returned to the UK to put in a stint of fundraising with his usual zeal and determination. With his mission accomplished he was asked by Abbot Alan to return to Belmont as his prior in 1986 – Peru remained close to his heart. In 1993 he was elected Abbot. In his time as Abbot, he had to preside over the closure of the school, necessary but no less painful for him. In 2000 he was appointed coadjutor Bishop of Menevia and succeeded Bishop Mullins in 2001. He retired as Ordinary in 2008 and “retired” to Chipping Norton as parish priest, then Hendon, saying Mass for the nuns and helping with confirmations. After a spell at Archbishop’s House, Westminster, living with his great friend Cardinal Nichols, he came home to Belmont – it was as though he had never been away and he loved being back in the monastery, particularly praying the Office with the community. That’s the list, of sorts, but it doesn’t really say “who” he was. I haven’t mentioned his outstanding contribution to rowing – the 1979 coxless, lightweight four gold medal at the world championships in Bled, which almost didn’t happen as, at the last minute, he was told there was no money to send the crew. He begged, cajoled and got them there – the video footage of the final is compelling. He transformed Henley Royal Regatta, writing a computer programme for the race results – he was well ahead of his time. He coached the Oxford Boat, ran the Heads of the River Schools Regatta, and more. What an achievement from someone who had never sat in a boat but learned on the job, as he said, “from books, mainly”. It was his determination, his commitment, his love of people and his drive to share what he had that is, perhaps, one of the key things to celebrate about him. And it was underpinned by his rock-solid faith – nothing overly pious, nothing showy, but a faith and a love of the Lord built on granite. Even his occasional lack of patience (sorry Mark) extended to that faith; ‘why won’t God call me?”. At the risk of being irreverent my response was always “would you want you?”. But God did want him, and he knew it. God had a purpose for his Apostle during his life and he now rests with Him in eternity. His purpose was, simply, to bring the joy of the Lord into the lives of others, in many and varied ways. A few weeks before Mark died, Pope Francis died. When the late Pope was seriously ill the son of friends of mine who entertained Mark and I to lunch regularly, was distraught at overhearing mum and dad say the Pope may die. He couldn’t stop crying. “But darling”, they said, “you don’t know the Pope, why so very sad?”. “We do know him” came the reply, “it’s Mark”. “No, Mark isn’t the Pope”. “Oh, so when the Pope does die will Mark be Pope then?”. Mark loved that one. When Mark himself did die said son would only be pacified by picking flowers from the garden and bringing them to church for him. He wanted to show how much Mark meant to him and wanted to give a little something back. That is the real biography – a man loved, respected, a man who shared what he had, above all his faith, a man who touched so many lives and made them better.  Rest in peace our dear friend.
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