Message of Abbot Paul - Sunday - 25th February 2024
Abbot Paul • February 24, 2024
​Apart from the onset of hay fever, what I love most of all about the end of February and the beginning of March, is to return from my early morning walk with Toby without needing to use my miner’s torch. Helped by a full moon, the pre-dawn light was magical this Saturday in the early morning mist and frost. Amazing, too, the number of trees and shrubs in bloom, showing off the glory of their bright Spring colours. As we walk along together, we can sense the presence of the Risen Christ walking with us just as he walked with the disciples on the road to Emmaus or talked with Mary Magdalene in the Easter garden. It’s also a special moment of the day in which to think about my loved ones, living and dead, and know that they are with me, deep in my heart, a heart that I lovingly share.
​On the Second Sunday of Lent, we read the Gospel of the Transfiguration, today from Mark, (Mk 9: 2-10). “Jesus took with him Peter and James and John and led them up a high mountain where they could be alone by themselves. There in their presence he was transfigured: his clothes became dazzlingly white, whiter than any earthly bleacher could make them.” The three apostles who alone saw this happen could only describe his change of appearance in this rustic way: they had never seen a light so bright before. “Elijah appeared to them with Moses; and they were talking with Jesus.” They see Jesus, the new Moses and the new Elijah, speaking with the Patriarch and the Prophet, as he is the fulfilment of both. “Then Peter spoke to Jesus: ‘Rabbi,’ he said ‘it is wonderful for us to be here; so let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.’ He did not know what to say; they were so frightened.” In a way, Peter speaks out of turn, but then he’s not thinking clearly for fear of what’s going on before his eyes. What is true is that it’s wonderful for the three disciples to be with Jesus at this moment. But there is more to come. “And a cloud came, covering them in shadow; and there came a voice from the cloud, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him.’ Then suddenly, when they looked round, they saw no one with them anymore but only Jesus.” They are enveloped in cloud and they hear the Father’s voice, declaring Jesus to be his Son, his Beloved to whom they should now listen. As suddenly as it began, the vision ends: Moses and Elijah have gone, the Father’s voice is silent and the cloud evaporates. They look and see only Jesus, their master and their friend, the man they have come to know and love. Just as they had gone up the mountain with Jesus, so now they have to come back down with him. From now on, they see “only Jesus.”
“As they came down from the mountain, he warned them to tell no one what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. They observed the warning faithfully, though among themselves they discussed what ‘rising from the dead’ could mean.” His warning mystifies them. What can he mean by talking of “rising from the dead”? Before the Transfiguration, Jesus had spoken to them of his Passion and Death, but perhaps not as clearly of his Resurrection. Now they have had a preview, so to speak, of what the Resurrection will be like; they have caught a glimpse of heaven. Even so, they are puzzled, but who wouldn’t be? We are puzzled today when we think of “rising from the dead.” We proclaim it at our Baptism and every time we recite the Creed. We celebrate it each year at Easter. Every time someone dies and we celebrate a Requiem Mass and Burial, we read, speak and pray about the Resurrection, not only of Jesus, but our own future resurrection from the grave. It might seem a tall order, but that’s what we believe, that’s what we hope for. Lord, our faith, like that of the Apostles, can sometimes be fragile and confused. You, who are the Resurrection and the Life, the Light of the world, strengthen and give new impetus to our faith. 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.
