Message of Abbot Paul - Friday - 9th February 2024
Abbot Paul • February 8, 2024
​“Returning from the district of Tyre, Jesus went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, right through the Decapolis region.” This is how Mark introduces a rather interesting miracle of healing, (Mk 7: 31-37). Yesterday we heard how Jesus cured the Syrophoenician woman’s daughter of an unclean spirit and now, on his way back to more familiar territory, he heals a man who is deaf and has a speech impediment. We are not told exactly where this happened, probably somewhere in the Decapolis region. These ten cities were mostly to the east of the Sea of Galilee, so it was a rather strange roundabout route to take. One wonders why he did that, as these were not Semitic people. “And they brought him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they asked him to lay his hand on him.” Whether the man is brought to him by friends or family members, we are not told. It is they who ask Jesus to heal him, so it appears that he can’t ask for himself. This time, Jesus doesn’t heal the man in front of a crowd but in private. “He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, put his fingers into the man’s ears and touched his tongue with spittle. Then looking up to heaven he sighed; and he said to him, ‘Ephphatha’, that is, ‘Be opened.’ And his ears were opened, and the ligament of his tongue was loosened and he spoke clearly.” Mark gives us the details of what Jesus did. Here it was more than touch; it also involved spittle, the lifegiving spittle of Jesus, a prophecy, perhaps, of his lifegiving blood shed for us on Calvary, or it could look back to creation and this is a new creation. However, where there are no medicines available or, often, even water, spittle is used to clean a wound even today. I’ve done it myself. In Peru we didn’t have much else, especially when travelling in the desert scrubland that was our home. Jesus looks to heaven, towards his heavenly Father and sighs. The only word he pronounces is, ”Ephphatha,” and we are given the Greek form of the Aramaic word, so important is it thought to be, “Be opened.” The man is healed: he can hear and he can speak, in fact, he can speak clearly, perfectly. This rite is also performed when we baptise.
​“And Jesus ordered them to tell no one about it, but the more he insisted, the more widely they published it. Their admiration was unbounded. ‘He has done all things well,’ they said ‘he makes the deaf hear and the dumb speak.’” It’s becoming quite common for Jesus to ask people to say nothing about his miracles of healing, but the more he asks them, the more they spread the news of his ability to work miracles. He knows that his fame, ultimately, will be counter-productive and lead to his arrest. Even so, among ordinary folk admiration abounds. That phrase, “He has done all things well,” takes us back to the Book of Genesis and the story of Creation, where God sees that all he has created is good, while what follows, “He makes the deaf hear and the dumb speak,” reminds us of the prophet Isaiah’s words concerning the Messiah and the Messianic age he will usher in.
​Lord, we ask you to do all things well in each one of us and in those we love, and we thank you all your gifts the us, especially the gift of life, both in this world and in the next. Amen.
From Francis to Leo: A special event with Christopher Lamb of CNN in conversation with Austin Ivereigh who commentated for the BBC on the transition from Pope Francis to Pope Leo.
On 12th June an Ecumenical Service was held at Hereford Cathedral to celebrate the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicea.
Archbishop Mark O'Toole, of Cardiff-Menevia presided at the Requiem Mass for Bishop Mark, while Abbot Brendan conducted his burial. Cardinal Vincent Nichols preached a homily full of warmth and affection for Bishop Mark which is reproduced below.
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.
Our brethren in Peru were delighted with the election of Pope Leo.
