Message of Abbot Paul - Trinity Sunday 4th June 2023
Abbot Paul • June 3, 2023
Although in Britain today it’s the feast of the Holy Trinity, in Greece we are celebrating Pentecost, although I have a sneaking suspicion that many Greeks are probably unaware of this, just as most Brits are unaware that it’s Trinity Sunday. I’m given to understand that 16% of Greeks go to church for part or all of the Divine Liturgy on a Sunday, whereas 91% of the population is Orthodox. The Catholic Church is a very small minority, enlarged in recent years by the influx of Poles, Filipinos, Albanians, Ukrainians, and others. They number around 70,000 are are classified as a religious and not ethnic minority. I mention this as yesterday I visited the Catholic cemetery, which borders on one of the British war cemeteries on the western edge of the city of Thessaloniki. I wanted to visit the graves of priests I had known. It’s a fascinating cemetery with monumental graves commemorating a large variety of nationalities as well as Catholic Greeks from Constantinople, Asia Minor and the Islands. The history of the city and of Macedonia in general must be one of the most fascinating in Europe, all part of my obsessive love for Greece and the Balkans.
Before visiting the cemetery, we had lunch at a favourite old fashioned Greek restaurant, one we frequented in the old days, where the chef-owner has been cooking daily for over 50 years. It’s the sort of restaurant where you go into the kitchen, look at everything and choose what you want. Everything is as delicious as it looks and more so. I love resinated wine and there’s a wide variety to choose from. Did you know that Pope St Gregory the Great, who was Papal Ambassador to the imperial court of Byzantium before his election as Bishop of Rome, imported retsina from Constantinople as it was the only thing that could help him digest his food? It’s heavenly eating Greek food again, not to mention the abundance of fresh fruit. As I write, I’m enjoying a bowl of cherries, apricots and watermelon, a foretaste of heaven.

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.