Message of Abbot Paul - Sunday - 17th March 2024
Abbot Paul • March 16, 2024
​The last two weeks of Lent are traditionally known as Passiontide, when the minds of Christians begin to focus on the final stages of our Lenten journey with Jesus, a journey that will take us through the events of Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday to the glory, joy and hope of Easter Sunday. In the Liturgy and in our daily prayer and reading, we walk with Jesus as he walks with us, trusting in our heavenly Father and desirous to offer our lives with Jesus in sacrifice for the salvation of all people, especially those who are farthest from the faith. Now that phrase “offering our lives with Jesus in sacrifice” really means to love as Jesus loves with God the Father’s love in the power of the Holy Spirit who is love. Only our love will bring others to salvation and to new life in the Risen Christ. What a powerful and life-motivating thought that is. God wants us to be ablaze with his love and to share that love with others.
Today’s Gospel passage from John, (Jn 12: 20-33), presents us with Jesus speaking to his disciples about his imminent passion and death. They are in Jerusalem when he says to them,
​​“Now the hour has come
for the Son of Man to be glorified.
I tell you, most solemnly,
unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies,
it remains only a single grain;
but if it dies,
it yields a rich harvest.”
One of the constant themes in John is that of the death of Jesus as glorification, the way in which he will give glory to God the Father, who in return will glorify his Son. Hence the wonderful symbolism of the grain of wheat, that falls to the ground and dies, so that it might burst into life and bear much fruit. Not only does Jesus see himself as a such a grain, but his disciples too and all those who give up their lives with him and for his sake. Hence what follows:
​​“Anyone who loves his life loses it;
anyone who hates his life in this world
will keep it for the eternal life.
If a man serves me, he must follow me,
wherever I am, my servant will be there too.
If anyone serves me, my Father will honour him.”
The words love and hate are powerful words and evoke strong images, especially the word hate. What does it mean for a Christian to hate his life in this world? It means not preferring this life to the next, not preferring earth to heaven, but to have faith in the life to come, in fact, to begin living the life to come in the here and now. It’s not an easy concept to grasp and yet life is so fragile, so precarious, that perhaps we should put more store by it than we do. What a privilege it is to follow Jesus and to know that we will be honoured by the Father, indeed that we are already honoured and loved eternally by him.
​Suddenly, unexpectedly, Jesus feels the anguish of the moment. Jesus shows us time and again that he can be perplexed or saddened and that he can share our human emotions, doubts and fears. He says;
​​“Now my soul is troubled.
What shall I say:
Father, save me from this hour?
But it was for this very reason that I have come to this hour.
Father, glorify your name!”
He will not ask to be saved from this moment, as he knows that this is his destiny, his purpose, his vocation: obedience and submission to the Father’s will, which is the ultimate good and perfect love. At that moment, just as at his Baptism and at the Transfiguration, the Father’s voice is heard. “A voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’ People standing by, who heard this, said it was a clap of thunder; others said, ‘It was an angel speaking to him.’ Jesus answered, ‘It was not for my sake that this voice came, but for yours.’” The Father’s words are described by Jesus as a “sentence… passed on this world,” for “the prince of this world is to be overthrown.” In death he sees life, in defeat he sees victory. This is the very essence of Christian hope. Jesus ends the discourse with a promise that will give heart to his disciples and hope when all seems lost.
​​“And when I am lifted up from the earth,
I shall draw all men to myself.”
They realise now that, “By these words he indicated the kind of death he would die.”
​Lord, through your death and resurrection, you have set us free from sin and death. Grant us the grace to live by faith, walk in hope and serve with love. May we come to say with St Paul, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” Amen.
"A hymn to the human body." Abbot Brendan's Homily at the annual Mass celebrated at Rotherwas Chapel in Hereford that dates from the 1580s on the feast of the Assumption.
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.
