The Flowering Tree: A message of life in a time of death

Dom Brendan Thomas • April 12, 2020
The Flowering Tree

Last week I saw something very beautiful. At this strange time when we are shaken by so much fear, suffering and death, I was taken by surprise by a small unexpected joy. 

I went out for the allowed daily walk into the fields below the monastery, where sheep with their new-born lambs were drinking in the stream. I looked up and saw the stump of an old tree in the middle of the field. I remember how glorious it had been. But then ten or twenty years ago lightning had struck it down on a stormy night. The stump had stood there, immoveable, dead, in the middle of the field. But I turned and I saw within the protective shell of the stump a new, delicate, beautiful tree had sprung, white with spring blossom. 

The bare wood of the Cross on which Jesus hung became the flowering tree that gave life to the world. This unexpected joy of life through death made his fearful and dismayed disciples become bearers of his life and love to the world.

“The good news of Christ’s resurrection has been passed on from the first Easter by every generation until now…Easter isn’t cancelled” said the Queen firmly in her Easter message.

And so we given the task of taking that love of the Risen Lord out into to the world. As Pope Francis said at the Easter Vigil: “How beautiful it is to be Christians who offer consolation, who bear the burdens of others and who offer encouragement: messengers of life in a time of death!” 

Our churches are, by force, empty, but that love is out there in the healing hands of our doctors and nurses, the busy hands of neighbours doing shopping, the supportive hands of carers of the vulnerable, the hardworking hands of those in the fields or stacking shelves to put meat and bread and fruit on our tables, and in the hopeful hands of those in isolation held together in prayer. 

Amongst the tears and the loss, so many signs of love and hope. Like our prayers in a dark church on Holy Saturday awaiting the light of a flickering flame. Like the words of an angel saying “He is Risen. He has gone before you...” Like the surprising flowering of a tree in the Herefordshire countryside. So too all these new blossomings of love in our communities in the current crisis. We move forward with hope in our hearts.

A Happy and Blessed Easter to you All.

Christ is Risen!

Stay safe.

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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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