Message of Abbot Paul - Friday 26th August
Abbot Paul • August 25, 2022

Message from Fr Paul for Friday, 26th August 2022
Late on Tuesday night I heard of the death of a dear friend of old, Bishop Kallistos of Diokleia, whose book The Orthodox Church, by Timothy Wear, as he was then and published in 1963, was my first introduction to Orthodoxy. It was one of the reasons why I read Modern Greek at university. He died peacefully in his home in Oxford early in the morning of 24th August. He had received the sacraments of the Church and was supported by a faithful group of close friends, who have given him unstinting care during many months of illness. Bishop Kallistos was a true friend and a gracious spiritual guide to many people all over the world. His was a clear, sane and authoritative voice, rooted in diligent scholarship and very effective teaching. His influence as a theologian extended far beyond his own church and Christians everywhere are very much in his debt for his wisdom and unflinching preaching of the Gospel within the tradition of the Church. Perhaps his greatest achievement was to make Christianity intelligible, attractive and credible. Bishop Kallistos had a long friendship with the monks of Mount Athos and was devoted to upholding their spiritual life. I commend him to the Lord and to His Most Holy Mother, as well as to St Seraphim of Sarov, for whom he had deep affection, and to your prayers.
Our Gospel from Matthew, (Mt 25: 1-13), the Parable of the Ten Virgins or Bridesmaids is most apt as we ponder on the mystery of death. As I mentioned yesterday, with these apocalyptic parables, I tend to ask myself some very personal questions. Am I a wise virgin or a foolish one? Were the Lord to call me tonight, would I have oil ready to take with my lamp to the wedding feast? Am I ready and prepared to see the Bridegroom, knowing him to be Christ? More to the point, do I really want to meet him? Were we to meet, what would he say to me? “I do not know you?” perhaps? Thinking of these things, am I staying awake? Am I focussing my attention on the Lord, or not? Where does my heart belong, in heaven or on earth? What questions have come to your mind?

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.