Message of Abbot Paul - Maundy Thursday - 28th March 2024
Abbot Paul • March 28, 2024
​I apologise if this message is a little late today, but last night, rather like St Benedict, my twin sister St Scholastica prayed that heavy rain should detain me and Toby in Bromyard. In fact, it turned torrential, and the thought of driving back on flooded roads frightened us both. As a result, we passed the night in spiritual conversation with our hosts and returned safely this morning in daylight.
“It was before the festival of Passover, and Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to pass from this world to the Father. He had always loved those who were his own in the world, but now he showed how perfect his love was.”
St John begins his account of the Passion, which takes up a third of his gospel, with the washing of the disciples’ feet. It’s a living parable, in which Jesus demonstrates the true meaning of his life. Like all parables, it invites us to contemplate the mystery of Christ and what that means for us. The washing of the feet turns our understanding of God upside down, for the Master becomes a slave, showing his disciples that this is the only way in which they can follow him and become what God wants them to be. Jesus says to Peter, “If I do not wash you, you can have nothing in common with me.”
The first thing that strikes us is the presence of Judas. The devil has already put it into his mind to betray Jesus, but he’s still there with the others at table, and Jesus washes his feet too. Jesus does not condemn us, but lavishly bestows his gifts on us, even when we plan to betray him. Judas learns nothing from the humility of Jesus. In despair, he will commit suicide, unable to accept that Jesus still loves him.
Jesus gets up from the table, removes his outer garment, wraps a towel round his waist, pours water into a basin and begins to wash his disciples’ feet. This is something extraordinary, revolutionary. A Jewish servant might wash his master’s feet and those of his guests, but only a Roman slave would take off his outer garment and set about washing people’s feet in his tunic, a sort of undershirt. It wouldn’t happen in a Jewish household. Moreover, Jesus himself pours the water and that was woman’s work. His actions turn the world on its head. The disciples had never really understood what he was telling them about himself: would tonight be any different?
When Jesus comes to Peter, there’s bound to be trouble. He’s a proud, outspoken man, never afraid to confront his Lord. “What? YOU wash MY feet? Lord, are you out of your mind?” St John Chrysostom tells us that the words express Peter’s love, but that it’s a defective love. It lacks the humility illustrated in what Jesus is doing. In Peter’s response we see pride and self-will, the very causes of sin, for which only the Cross of Jesus can atone. Peter still doesn’t understand.
Jesus knows that, for the disciples, what he’s doing is bewildering, scandalous even. “At the moment you don’t know what I’m doing, but later you will understand.” Only after the Resurrection will they begin to understand that in the Church, the Body of Christ, there can be no room for those who refuse to be cleansed by his atoning death and washed clean in the blood of the Lamb and that communion with Christ depends on immersing ourselves in the great Sacrament of love, the Eucharistic sacrifice, with all its practical implications of mercy and charity.
For now, their understanding fails them. Jesus tells them that their love, like his, must go beyond all limits. “If I, the Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you should wash each other’s feet.” In Christ we are called to be ministers of the love of God in all patience and humility. Only through love can we die with Christ, so as to rise and live with him, and there can be no true love that does not involve sacrifice.
It sounds banal, but Jesus came to show us that God loves each one of us and that he wants us to do the same. It’s as simple and as difficult as that!
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.
