Message of Abbot Paul - Wednesday - 28th February 2024
Abbot Paul • February 27, 2024



​It’s only 28th February and we’re already halfway through the second week of Lent. Palm Sunday is less than four weeks’ away. I must confess that as I admire the abundance of Spring flowers and all kinds of blossom, I am looking forward to the celebration of the Lord’s Resurrection at Easter. I feel that, in my heart, it is already Easter and Christ has risen within me. Do you feel that way too?
​Today’s Gospel reading comes from Matthew, (Mt 20: 17-28), and is really about the humility of Jesus and how the disciples should follow his example. In fact, Jesus and the disciples, probably quite a large group of people, are making their way up to Jerusalem, when he takes the Twelve to one side and speaks with them. “Now we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man is about to be handed over to the chief priests and scribes. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the pagans to be mocked and scourged and crucified; and on the third day he will rise again.” This is a very clear warning to them of what will happen once they arrive in Jerusalem, almost the title of each moment of his Passion, after which on the third day he will rise again. What follows would seem to suggest that the Twelve weren’t even listening to what he was saying, but it’s their mother rather than James and John themselves who comes forward to make a request of Jesus. She must have been a force to be reckoned with: she demands a promise from Jesus. No humility here: she is looking out for her sons and trying to promote their chances, but seems unaware still of the rules of the Kingdom that Jesus has come to inaugurate.
​“Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came with her sons to make a request of him, and bowed low; and he said to her, ‘What is it you want?’ She said to him, ‘Promise that these two sons of mine may sit one at your right hand and the other at your left in your kingdom.’ ‘You do not know what you are asking’ Jesus answered. ‘Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?’ They replied, ‘We can.’ ‘Very well,’ he said ‘you shall drink my cup, but as for seats at my right hand and my left, these are not mine to grant; they belong to those to whom they have been allotted by my Father.’” Jesus interrogates the sons, “Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” Without batting an eyelid, they reply, “We can.” They have no idea what he’s talking about, although he had spoken to them of his forthcoming Passion. They can only think of the glory beyond the suffering, but are left wanting as Jesus cannot fulfil their request. It is an impossible demand. The Father alone will decide who sits where at the Wedding Feast of the Lamb.
​There is indignation among the other Apostles, and rightly so, for they feel ashamed at what has happened. “When the other ten heard this, they were indignant with the two brothers. But Jesus called them to him and said, ‘You know that among the pagans the rulers lord it over them, and their great men make their authority felt. This is not to happen among you. No; anyone who wants to be great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be your slave, just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.’” Jesus has an important word of teaching for all twelve and for us, his disciples and apostles in the world today. Just as Jesus came to serve and not to be served, so that must be our attitude and duty in life. Just as he came to give his life for others, so we must be a living sacrifice in the service and for the good of others, even those we don’t know and those who might even hate us. Our only desire should be to do good and to serve, not to be great and certainly not to be first. In Christ we are all brothers and sisters. Our only glory is to be God the Father’s children, the brothers, sisters and friends of Jesus Christ and temples of the Holy Spirit. The Gospel of Jesus is nothing if not radical, and we are his disciples.

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.