Message of Abbot Paul - Thursday 23rd December

Abbot Paul • December 22, 2021

Scenes from the Life of John the Baptist



Message from Fr Paul for Thursday, 23rd December 2021

 

           It was good to visit my mother yesterday, as it had been a month since I last went down to spend the day with her. This time it was only half a day, as Toby couldn’t come with me: he had an appointment with the vet and, in any case, can’t travel at the moment, let alone go for a run on the beach. It seemed so strange not to have him with us for our Italian Christmas dinner, taken before the feast day this year, as we have no idea what will happen afterwards. That’s not true about Wales, but England seems afraid to make decisions that will be unpopular. I’ve a suspicion that few people now even bother to listen to what the government has to say, most of us deciding for ourselves what we need to do to be safe.

 

           Best stick to the story at hand and look at the O Antiphon for today and the Gospel reading. Today we have the last of the O Antiphons, O Emmanuel. Here is a translation. “O Emmanuel, our King and our Lawgiver, the hope of the nations and their Saviour; Come and save us, O Lord our God.” Emmanuel is the name given by the Prophet Isaiah to the Messiah and means God with us, for in Jesus God is truly present, as St Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself.” (2 Cor 5:19) It’s interesting to note that in medieval England, because of the great devotion to Our Lady (England was known as Mary’s Dowry), there was an eighth O Antiphon, O Virgo Virginum. Here is a translation. “O Virgin of virgins, how shall this be? For neither before thee was any like thee, nor shall there be after. Daughters of Jerusalem, why marvel ye at me? The thing which ye behold is a divine mystery.” The divine mystery is, of course, the Incarnation, by which God became a human being in the womb of the Virgin. In England, in fact, the O Antiphons started to be sung a day earlier, on 16th December. I find it terribly sad when venerable, ancient customs disappear.

 

           Our Gospel today presents us with the birth, circumcision and naming of John the Baptist. We read from Luke, (Lk 1: 57-66), after which the scene is set for the birth of Jesus. Here is the complete text of the Gospel.


“The time came for Elizabeth to have her child, and she gave birth to a son; and when her neighbours and relations heard that the Lord had shown her so great a kindness, they shared her joy.

  Now on the eighth day they came to circumcise the child; they were going to call him Zechariah after his father, but his mother spoke up. ‘No,’ she said ‘he is to be called John.’ They said to her, ‘But no one in your family has that name’, and made signs to his father to find out what he wanted him called. The father asked for a writing-tablet and wrote, ‘His name is John.’ And they were all astonished. At that instant his power of speech returned and he spoke and praised God. All their neighbours were filled with awe and the whole affair was talked about throughout the hill country of Judaea. All those who heard of it treasured it in their hearts. ‘What will this child turn out to be?’ they wondered. And indeed the hand of the Lord was with him.”

 

           What we note above all, and this is an underlying theme throughout Luke’s Gospel, is the joy that is shared by Elizabeth with her family and neighbours at the birth of her son. Think of the message of the angels to the shepherds at the birth of Jesus. Then the name chosen for the child, John, meaning graced by God or the Lord is gracious. John was God’s gift to Elizabeth and Zechariah in their old age. He was also God’s gift to the world. We are told that “the hand of the Lord was with him.” Linked with rejoicing is always praise and thanksgiving. Yesterday we read the Gospel of the Magnificat, an outstanding example of rejoicing, praise and thanksgiving. Then, all those present, who witnessed the events of John’s birth, or only heard of them, treasured them all in their hearts. May we follow their example and treasure in our hearts the events we celebrate at Christmas.


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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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