Message of Abbot Paul - Saturday 11th June

Abbot Paul • June 10, 2022
Message from Fr Paul for Saturday, 11th June 2022

 The days of the month are creeping relentlessly towards the Summer Equinox and soon the days will shorten and the nights begin to draw in. As our organist, Jonathon, said to me yesterday, we’re on the road to Advent, only six months to Christmas. One can’t help but wonder what Summer, Autumn and Winter hold in store for us, what with the war in Ukraine showing no signs of coming to an end and prices continuing to rise, often to double, from day to day. I see that quite clearly as I help my mother to do her shopping online and we discuss price hikes in gas and electricity. I must put a word in here asking readers to support our local food banks, as more families feel the pinch and the breech between rich and poor grows ever wider, a sad indictment for a country like the UK. 

Today, we keep the feast of St Barnabas, a native of Cyprus and a Levite, who became one of the leading members of the Christian community at Antioch, having been sent there from Jerusalem, and a companion of St Paul in his first missionary journeys. He is called an apostle, but was not one of the Twelve. He was at the Council of Jerusalem together with Paul, which took the far-reaching decision to allow Gentiles to become Christian without having to observe the entireJewish Law. I never cease to be amazed at the daring of the early Church in taking enormous and unexpected leaps in faith in order to preach the Gospel to non-Jews and bring all peoples to salvation in Christ. Barnabas was instrumental in this. 

 In our short Gospel passage from Matthew, (Mt 5: 33-37), Jesus emphasises to his disciples the importance of always telling the truth, so being people who can be trusted. There is no need to be making oaths all the time. If people know that you always speak the truth, then you will be trusted without recourse to oaths, swearing by this or by that. If you can’t keep an oath, or a promise for that matter, then don’t make one. That is the sensible, practical advice that Jesus gives us. Now it’s up to us to act on his word.

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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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