Fr Jarek Kurek OSB
Fr Jarek Kurek OSB

Please note the following changes to the liturgical timetable during the Christmas period, including details of Confession times and the opening and closing of the guesthouse. Visitors are welcome to attend the liturgies which take place in the Abbey Church, and our friends around the world can join online via the webcam.
10am Mass for the Fourth Sunday of Advent
6pm Vespers I
11.20pm Vigil Office
12 midnight Mass
8am Lauds
10am Mass (no music)
12 noon Solemn Conventual Mass
5pm Vespers II
7am Matins and Lauds
12.10pm Mass
6pm Vespers
7am Matins and Lauds
12.10pm Mass
6pm Vespers
8.35pm Compline (or Office of the Resurrection on Saturday)
7am Lauds
10am Mass
12.35pm Sext
6pm Vespers I
8.10pm Vigil
7am Lauds
12.10pm Mass
6pm Vespers II
8.35pm Compline
The normal liturgical timetable resumes on Tuesday 2nd January.
Saturday 23rd December at 2pm, 3pm and 4pm in the Abbey Church.
Closes Thursday 21st December and reopens on Friday 29th December.
There will be limited opening hours during the Christmas period. Please call ahead.
Fr Cuthbert Brennan OSB
This third Sunday of Advent is called Gaudete Sunday, from the Latin for joy but it’s hard to be joyful when the world seems so full of violence and fear. There are many wildernesses in our world today, the refugee crisis, the places of conflict, the environmental crisis and it is into these very spaces that we are invited to be heralds of joy. John the Baptist who we meet in the gospel this morning shows us how to live as someone who recognises and has a profound understanding of the joy of God and the hope of restoration that Jesus brings.
The gospel of John uses a different title for John the Baptist. He’s called a witness, a witness for the light. And the text this morning tells us more about who John wasn’t than who he was; he wasn’t the light. The religious leaders question John because they want to put him in some pigeonhole, they’re determined to place John in their preconception of what religion ought to be. They want to place John within their conventional expectations, they want to see him fit into their hopes for the future of Israel. No matter what they suggest,
Messiah, Elijah, a prophet, John’s answer is No, no, no, I’m not that, no! The only positive thing John says about himself is that he is a voice. “I am the voice crying in the wilderness, make straight the way of the Lord.”
I am God’s loudspeaker, I am the smell of coffee that wakes you up in the morning, I am that alarm bell in the school at 7.30 that shatters your sleep. I am the voice that has only one thing to tell you, the light is coming, “I am not the light. I’m a witness to the light, I’m a voice, I’m someone who points to the light, I’m somebody who tells you that the light is coming but I am not the light.”
To the religious experts who do what religious experts do, they define, classify, characterise and pigeon hole God, John tells them and us “You do not know, you cannot define, you do not know the light that is coming into the world, into the darkness.” At this point in our Advent journey we are told that our hopes will be fulfilled but not necessarily fulfilled as we expect, by the light that dawns to our darkness. Our expectations are going to be met but not in the way we expect. An important question to ask at his point in the Advent journey is “For what am I hoping for Christmas?” It’s an important question because, like some of those people who questioned John, we may miss something so fragile and mysterious as the Light of Christ if we are too full of our explanations, too full of our definitions and expectations.
For what are you hoping? Well, if you’re like a lot of people around here, maybe you’re not sure. What brought you to church on this third Sunday of Advent? Maybe you didn’t even know it was the third Sunday of Advent. Maybe, like the rest of us you are still searching for God. And John the Witness, says that’s ok. An open heart may be a lot better than one that is full of definitions and preconceptions, that there’s no room left for any light. This Sunday, with John, let us set aside our hopes and expectations and simply let the light dawn among us. Let us admit that we are in the dark and let us allow the light to enter our darkness.
When he began his ministry, one of the problems for Jesus was that people thought they knew how the Messiah should act and what the Messiah should say. And when Jesus didn’t do what they expected, they rejected him and crucified him. In these last days of Advent let us cultivate a receptivity for surprise, wonder, the shock of God who is not the God we thought we knew, and not even the God we thought we wanted. Let us be open to encountering God in the person of Jesus Christ this Christmas that we may stand as witnesses to the light, the light coming into the world, the light that the darkness of the world has not, despite over 2000 years, overcome.
Fr Christopher Dillon OSB
Everything that we have heard in these readings is calling us to make ready, to make preparations; but for what? All around the world, people are preparing for Christmas, whether they are Christian or not, because it is a time for mid-winter festivity. But this is different; this involves an encounter with someone and preparation for that encounter. Last week, we were urged to be awake and alert for it; now we are being urged to prepare for it; and all the time against the backdrop of those cautionary words of the Letter of St Peter that,
where God is involved, a day can mean a thousand years and a thousand years a day. Because it is God that we are speaking about, God whose decision and desire, we have discovered, is to be with us and to bring us, ultimately, to be with him for all eternity.
This plan, we are led to believe, has been on the go from the beginning of time and each of us deals with it, in our own time, as best we can, not knowing what point of which thousand years is ours in all the waiting and expectation of the past and future centuries. The one thing we do know, as far as our Christian faith teaches us, this being with, this connexion with God is the heart and goal of our existence as human beings; so our preparing for it is the most important activity of our lives.
John the Baptist is the figure whom God appointed two thousand years ago to alert us all to this great truth, so his words are important for us to hear and to understand. His recommendation to us is repentance and the confession of our sins. By that is meant that we need to adjust our way of thinking and so reset our values and priorities from the ways of the everyday world to the ways and values of God, as we have learned them from Jesus Christ, and that we behave accordingly. It is a regular event, like house cleaning; stuff happens, stuff piles up and we have to deal with it in any walk of life. Christmas presents, the Christmas tree, Christmas dinner are all very well, but they are
second to this.
The really important matter in all this preparation is quite simply our
behaviour. Again, our Christian faith tells us that God has come to us, in the person of Jesus Christ, to teach us how to behave as sons and daughters of God. That is what Advent, the Coming, means. “Learn from me”, Jesus is quoted as saying, “for I am gentle and humble of heart”(Mt.11,29). “Gentle” is fairly obvious, involving being kind and polite; but “humble” is more subtle. It means being down to earth honest and truthful about oneself and everything else. Any one of us could do worse than bringing them as our Christmas gift to those around us. Either way, this is the kind of preparation that we are being
called on to make for the Coming of God into our world, into our lives. So it is up to you and to me; no one can do this for us; perhaps a little less screen time and more attention to what is going on around us.


The monks of Glenstal Abbey wish you a blessed solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us!
Fr William Fennelly OSB
One of the great theologians of the Catholic Church in the 20th century was the German Jesuit, Karl Rahner. and he once reflected that there were two times in the Church year which especially summed up what Christian life was about. One of those times is a single day, the other is a great Season. He was speaking of Holy Saturday and the time of Advent that we’re starting out on today. And what links those two very different times, one in the midst of the Easter celebrations, the other leading us into our Christmas celebration, is that they’re both about expectancy, waiting, not-being-there-yet.
Holy Saturday speaks of the disciples in the anguish of that time between Good Friday and Easter Sunday when all seemed to be lost and all God’s plans brought to nothing. Their experience was of death; resurrection was something they hadn’t yet tasted. And Advent likewise is a time of waiting. As we wait to celebrate Christmas, we have some sense of the experience of those who waited for the first coming of Jesus. The Scriptures associated with this Season are about vigilance, staying awake, being prepared, preparing the way. It’s a Season which asks us to think on the coming of Jesus: not only at the time of our death; not only at the end of time; but above all, in the here and now, in the everyday, and on every day. It asks us whether we’re ready for that coming of the Lord. So, Holy Saturday and Advent have this in common: a mood of expectancy, of waiting, of not-being-there-yet. And Karl Rahner’s point was that that is so typical of our own life as disciples:
We long for God, but sometimes God seems so distant, so hard to grasp.
We’re inspired by the Gospel, but in practice we seem to fail so regularly when it comes to its ideals
We’re a people who, on our good days, treasure the salvation that comes to us in Jesus, but so often we get overwhelmed by our own sense of falling short, of being what we would rather not be. Like Advent and Holy Saturday our life in the Spirit can seem so often to be an “in-between time”, frustratingly suspended between what we strive towards and what we actually are. But there are two ways of living in the “in-between time”, two ways of living with “not-being-there-yet”: One is the way of frustration and despair in which we’re overwhelmed by our own sense of failure, of sin, of what is not, always disappointed with ourselves, always seeing ourselves as a second-class disciple. The other way is the way of hope, which is precisely what this great season of Advent offers.
The Second Vatican Council used a beautiful image of what the Church is: it was the image of a “pilgrim people”. Drawing on that ancient idea of pilgrimage it’s an image which reminds us that the journey is just as important as the destination; that our fidelity to God and God’s call is not only expressed by “finally getting there”, but by the way we live the struggle of the journey, by our persistence on the journey, by our trying, and our repeated willingness to pick ourselves up under God’s grace and to begin again, and again, and again. And so ‘we’re not there yet’ as we’re all too aware so often. But Advent speaks a message of hope for those who wait, a message of comfort for those who are pilgrims on a difficult and, at times, frustrating, journey. If our hope was based simply on the desire that we might one day ‘get it all right’, we’d be more than likely bound for disappointment, and bound for despair. But the source of Christian hope doesn’t lie in our getting it all right, but in the God who loves us anyway, who accepts us in our messiness, and who accompanies us on the stumbling journey, not waiting for us up there ahead at the final destination. The whole point of a pilgrimage is that the journey is as important as the destination. We don’t have to get it all right because we can’t get it all right. But we can, with God’s grace, keep trying. That’s the pilgrimage.
So, as people of the “in-between time”, the people who “are-not-there-yet”, the people who are a mixture of saint and sinner, the Holy Saturday people who wait for the resurrection, the Advent people who look for the coming of Jesus, we should be a people of hope, a hope that can’t be diminished because of our own failings, however many they are, because it’s a hope founded on the love, the compassion and the forgiveness of God which has NO limit.