The wolves at the door, the thieves inside
Dom Brendan Thomas • May 3, 2020
Can we live this crisis well?
It was quite fascinating when travelling with a pilgrim group through the Bekaa Valley in Lebanon, on our way to the extraordinary temple of Baalbeck, to see little stone circles on the hillside with small entrances. It confirmed what I had read about in scripture commentaries, that shepherds would lead their flocks to where the grass was green, would gather some rocks and make a sort of makeshift pen to protect them from the wild animals. The gate was not of wood or iron, but just an opening in the rock walls because the shepherd himself would lie across the opening and keep them safe.
And that’s why Jesus can say “I am the gate.” The Good Shepherd himself becomes the gate to the sheep pen. He is the protector of the flock against the wolves that roam outside, the security against thieves and robbers who want to get in to kill, steal, or destroy the flock. In these little rock corrals on the mountainside the flocks would be safe inside. “They do not hurt, nor harm, on all my holy mountain” Isaiah 11:9.
We learn of two threats in the Gospel today. Jesus is concerned to protect his flock from threats
on the outside
– the wolves at the door, and the
threats on the inside
– the brigands and thieves
that have crept over the wall.
1) So first, the shepherd is one who protects his flock from the wolves that stand threatening at the gate.
We don’t have to search too far to see how this Gospel image is a present reality in our day. It has been a very hard decision of bishops and parish priests to close their church doors, but in the context of today’s pandemic they are simply being Christlike in taking the measures they deem necessary to stop the coronavirus wolf attacking the flock. It is hard because the flock is fearful, penned in their homes, and not free to graze on the green pastures that would most give strength, the sacraments of the Church, the banquet that is laid before us in the Eucharist.
But we have to remember that if Christ is the Gate then each of us is Christlike when we are like bouncers at the door, keeping each other safe from harm. Even if it is disagreeable or even uncomfortable to be penned in and have our life restricted we can thank God for the spiritual resources that we do have. We are not separated from Christ or from his Church which goes far beyond the walls of a building.
________________________
In the
Rule of St Benedict
the
Porter
of the monastery is such a beautiful figure, an elderly man standing at the door of the monastery, a source of blessing for all who pass by, another ‘Benedict’, if you like, whose name from bene ('good') and dicte ('speak'), literally means one who speaks well, who gives a blessing. The porter guards the door to make sure the community is safe and protected from unwanted visitors, but he is also the conduit that passes the blessings of the monastery out to whomsoever he meets. Many people are using this opportunity to reach out to friends and neighbours, to give a kind word and check that they are okay.
We haven’t got a Porter at Belmont. Rather each of us in different ways, according to our different tasks, are to become a channel of peace and goodwill to those outside. And perhaps to those inside too.
________________________
2) Which brings me to the second key concern of Christ that we be protected from thieves and brigands within the fold. Who are they? They are the ones who have crept in by any other way than Christ himself. They are ones with counterfeit voices, who try to deceive and lead the flock astray.
The truth is that all of us are sometimes thieves and brigands to each other when within the fold we reveal ourselves to be people who do not listen to the voice of the true Shepherd, and not hearing him fail to live in imitation of him. And let’s face it, sometimes we do not, even as monks. The thief steals and kills and destroys. Sometimes we rob each other of joy when we are disagreeable, bad-tempered, angry. We kill each other’s reputation when we back-stab and gossip and damage another’s good name. We destroy the life of the flock when we live counter to Christ and his values, when we give bad witness, when we suck the oxygen from the air and put ourselves at the centre of the world. We maim, we wound, and imperceptibly we kill.
But an alternative is set before us as we read the Acts of the Apostles in these days of Eastertide. To be the flock that listens to the voice of Christ and generous with what we have. We are asked to reflect in this Easter season what it means to be a community animated by the Spirit of the Risen Christ, a community that attracts, is generous, open and welcoming.
There is a time to close the gates, but there will be a time to open them again.
The present situation is taxing for many people in different ways. But if we, as a monastic community, live this life of lockdown well, we may have more to offer those currently left outside the gate, who long to be back here again to experience the goodness and kindness that flows from this altar and wants to flow from us too as channels of God’s goodness.
Our present situation might seem like a curse, but it could become for each of us a blessing if we can learn and grow from this experience, find the fullness of life that the Shepherd brings. And then we can become, each of us, porters, carriers of that blessing to the outside world.
From Francis to Leo: A special event with Christopher Lamb of CNN in conversation with Austin Ivereigh who commentated for the BBC on the transition from Pope Francis to Pope Leo.
On 12th June an Ecumenical Service was held at Hereford Cathedral to celebrate the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicea.
Archbishop Mark O'Toole, of Cardiff-Menevia presided at the Requiem Mass for Bishop Mark, while Abbot Brendan conducted his burial. Cardinal Vincent Nichols preached a homily full of warmth and affection for Bishop Mark which is reproduced below.
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.
Our brethren in Peru were delighted with the election of Pope Leo.
