Message of Abbot Paul - Wednesday 9th November 2022

Abbot Paul • November 9, 2022
t was good to visit my mother yesterday, although the weather in South Wales was rough and it looked as though a visit to the beach would be impossible. Then, around 3.30, after a marvellous lunch and much needed siesta, the rain appeared to stop and a window of opportunity presented itself, so down we went. There were two other cars in the large carpark, yet no one seemed to be walking. The moment I opened the door, I realised why. The wind was so strong, it was almost impossible to stand, but I knew that Toby was keen to get out and give it a go. So there was nothing for it but to put on my walking boots. Toby was in his element running up and down the sand dunes, aiming for the beach. However, the tide was in and I knew it would be dangerous, what with that wind and the possibility of more rain. The last thing I wanted was to be marooned with no one nearby to come to our help. Not twenty minutes had passed before, suddenly, the heavens opened and the rain beat down sideways in the gale force wind. We both ran for the car. I managed to get Toby in first (he now uses steps to reach the back seat and his pet tube), then crawled in myself. I was soaked to the skin, whereas Toby, being a border collie, was not.
 
​Today the Church celebrates the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica, the cathedral church of the city and Bishop of Rome. The church is dedicated to Christ the Most Holy Saviour, Christ Church, as well as to St John the Baptist and St John the Evangelist. We say that this church is the Mater et Magistra of all the churches, the mother and teacher. In fact, it is one of the oldest of the churches of Rome and takes precedence over the other Roman basilicas, including the Vatican. It is the mother church of Catholics and so kept as a feast all over the world.
 
​Th Gospel read today comes from John, (Jn 2: 13-22), the cleansing of the Temple, in which he makes clear that the true Temple is his body, that will be raised to new life at his Resurrection on the third day. The Church is the Body of Christ, built of living stones by the working of the Holy Spirit in accordance with the Father’s will. Hence, today is a day of rejoicing for it is our feast, when we thank God for calling us to be members of his Church, the Body of Christ and Temple of the Holy Spirit.
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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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