Author: Justin

25 years ago, Irish athletics had a world-class star. Her name was Sonia O’Sullivan.  

After all these years, unexpectedly, last Sunday, four other Irish female athletes, Aoife Lynch and Kate Doherty from Dublin, Sarah Quinn from Mayo and Sophie Becker from Wexford, took second place in the World Relays event. This was their first ever international podium finish and that, along with what their teammates achieved, has been dubbed by the media ‘a breakthrough weekend for Irish athletics’. One of the monks here drew my attention to this great success because it took place in Poland, in the stadium, which is just down the road from where I lived for more than 20 years.   

Now, although these four did not win the race – naturally the Poles were the winners – to my mind they did something truly remarkable. Not only did they do their very best, but in the words of a member of the Irish men’s relay team, they put Ireland back on the map. I was very struck by what one of them said after the event: ‘We had nothing to lose and everything to gain and we gave it our all’. They gave it their all. What an experience for all of them; a new chapter in their lives opened up.

All this effort was to win a perishable prize. What we Christians aim at in our daily spiritual journey is something infinitely greater.

What way are we to follow? It is Jesus Christ, of course, the way. Some challenging questions remain for each of us: do I give of my all on a daily basis? Am I genuinely committed to making a breakthrough in my Christian life? 

Jesus tells us: ‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you’. This commandment to love one another, which we think of as a new commandment, isn’t actually new at all. It has been with us since the beginning of time. What is new is that Christ laid down his life for us to overcome the power of Satan and bring a new way of life. And this is the real breakthrough.

Christ’s victory opened up a new chapter in the history of humanity. Christ did all of this to fully restore our fallen nature. His death, his crushing the Devil and his resurrection from the dead are the decisive moments in history. We need to appreciate their importance. We need to imitate Jesus in his death, so that we may have a renewed life in him. Dying to our sins, with Christ, however challenging this may be, is the only way to arrive at a genuine understanding of what Jesus means by ‘love one another as I have loved you’. Our breakthrough is achieved by hard work, leading to a transformed existence where we become victors with Christ.

The Irish athletes were not afraid of hard work and they are now on their way to the Olympics. In our spiritual race we have nothing to lose either. Let’s follow Christ in our race toward the heavenly city. Let’s prove victorious and gain the greatest prize of all.

Rev. Jarek Kurek OSB

This morning’s gospel brings to a conclusion the “I am” statements that we have been listening to these last weeks. This morning Jesus tells us “I am the true vine.”  Jesus has already identified himself as the living bread, the light of the world, the sheep-gate, the good shepherd, the resurrection and the life and the way the truth and the life. The image of Jesus as vine and us as branches crowns all the rest. This simple phrase would have had many layers of meaning for its hearers. Israel, the people of God, understood itself to be the vine and vineyard. John plays masterfully with the symbolism of this image. The vinegrower is still God but the vine is no longer Israel. Now it is Jesus. It is Jesus who is the true Israel, the chosen of God through whom all nations will receive a blessing. It is Jesus who is at the heart of it all, it is he who is the source of life, and it is he who renews the earth.

And here we are, on the night before he is crucified, before he is hung on the cross, Jesus describes himself as a vine, the tree of life. The church places this text within the Easter season so that we can understand this passage through Easter faith and understand that the Father prunes the Son, curtails his life, to give the fruit of abundant life to the world.  Through the Paschal mystery God shows us how much he loves us, he shows us the lengths that he will go to prove that love. 

The word abide is used no less than eight times in this passage. Abide in me as I abide in the Father. In other words, stay connected to the vine. If you want a shorthand for who I am says Jesus, remember the vine. The trunk of the vine is Jesus, the branches of the vine are the church, the grapes of the vine are abundant life, the fruit of the vine and the work of human hands is our Eucharist. It’s all here. Abide with me in the vine and you will be at the heart of it all.

So we can sit back and say “phew” we’ve made it, we’re at the heart of it all, we’re part of the church. But we know we can never say we’ve made it. We constantly need to be pruned. Whenever you meet a group of Christians who feel they’ve made it, be it in strength of numbers or firmness of doctrine, or purity of life, you can anticipate that they will be in trouble pretty soon. Scripture remind us that Israel was pruned as it journeyed from Egypt to the Promised Land and the disciples were pruned as they journeyed from Galilee to Jerusalem. The church becomes one body as it is pruned on its journey. 

It’s no secret that disciples, that’s you and me by the way can be deeply engaged in the thing of the church in meaningful ways and yet may not be truly connected to the Christ we meet in this morning’s gospel. We don’t like to be pruned. We get used to the astonishing pruning that God carried out on Jesus. 

We lose sight of the wonder of the story. Sometimes what we want to hear is a different gospel. We want to hear that Jesus doesn’t change our lives significantly; in fact Jesus affirms them because he gave his life for our sake so we don’t have to give ours and we give a little bit back by some modest social service or personal development.  The vine grower eventually gets around to pruning such branches. 

But this is not the gospel we have heard this morning. Jesus’ relationship with the Father leads him to the cross and to resurrection. Death has no power over him. Abiding in Jesus is not for its own sake, nor an end in itself. Jesus imagines and promises a dynamic and changing life for the community of disciples. It is about facing the true consequences of our baptism. He calls us to follow him. That for us may not mean the cross but it may mean being humiliated & ridiculed. It may mean being subject to violence against our person, property and loved ones. This is what happens to people who choose to abide in Jesus. Today’s readings remind us that we must continually choose who we want to be. We are called to choose our real identity just as really and radically as Saul chose to be an apostle. 

Jesus says “I am the vine, you are the branches.” Do we want what he wants? Do we want Jesus? Do we love him? Will we love to the end? 

Fr Cuthbert Brennan OSB

Shepherd and sheep have few resonances for most today – the only likely contact most have with sheep is the mutton on our dinner plate or as sheepskin winter wear. Sheep exist merely to feed us and to clothe us. In antiquity this pastoral imagery was familiar and popular for a different reason. Violence, enslavement, injury and death were commonplace. In this context the emphasis was on the protective role of the Shepherd.  

This imagery was used in the Old Testament to speak of prophets and kings whose duty it was to care for the Lord’s flock on behalf of the true Shepherd of the flock, namely the Lord himself. The surrogate shepherds fail repeatedly, and it is only the Lord who proves to be the true Shepherd of his people – as the psalmist puts it: “The Lord is my Shepherd, there is nothing I shall want.” The shepherd image was also employed by the Roman emperors who portrayed themselves as shepherds ensuring peace and prosperity for the people. The idyllic images of emperors as shepherds were only one side of imperial propaganda, the other was the threat of force to impose the exploitative peace. Depictions of shepherd and flock appear both in sumptuous Roman villas and in the catacombs. It is important to revisit the expectations of the hearers of Jesus’ discourse on the Good Shepherd – the Jews expect him to speak of the Lord defending and vindicating his people – the Gentiles expect him to speak of a strong leader who will enforce justice and peace. Perhaps, we also today look for a God who will sort the world for us, will set things right or perhaps more honestly prove us to be right. Jesus offers no such certainty.

Jesus introduces a new element to the image of the Good Shepherd for both Jews and Gentiles, an element so unusual that he repeats it five times in just eight verses. Did you hear what Jesus said so often? Are you hard of hearing or of understanding? “The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.” This is the extraordinary emphasis of Jesus. To us unfamiliar with sheep husbandry, the absurdity of such action is not immediately obvious. If a shepherd lays down his life, what hope has the flock of surviving without him? Surely a pack of wolves will devour the whole flock. The self-sacrifice of the shepherd appears pointless. It is radically at variance with the imperial Shepherd ideology of enforced peace or with Jewish expectations of vindication.

Jesus is not playing his expected divine role. Jesus has taken flesh, become one of us and in the language of the Fourth Gospel pitched his tent among us. The implications of this are not only a human birth, a Christmas, but also a human death, a Good Friday. Jesus fully shares our humanity, but he also transforms our humanity. Jesus lays down his life, but he then takes it up again. The loss of life is real – Jesus’ body will lie in the tomb. This is not the end. Jesus takes up his life – death is no longer the end for human life. Jesus shatters the bars of death. He is the Good Shepherd who lays down his life so that the flock may have life eternal. Good Friday is followed by Easter Sunday. 

When Jesus takes up his life again, he is opening up a new existence to us, his flock. Jesus said to Nicodemus that no one can see the kingdom of God unless that one is born again. Nicodemus asked how could this be? Jesus’ resurrection makes this new birth into eternal life possible for all. Importantly, Jesus speaks not only to his own contemporaries but also to us. He has other sheep that are not of this flock, who will hear his voice. As Jesus knows us, so we are invited to come to know him and his great love for us. This changes our outlook on life. Even if at personal cost, self-giving love is the dynamic of eternal life. 

Fr Luke Macnamara OSB

In today’s gospel from Saint Luke, we hear more of the Risen Christ’s appearances and revelations to his followers. The Risen Lord manifests Himself, then as now, in two different ways and in a third which is prior to the former two:

He is recognised as He makes the scriptures plain to them; 

He is recognised in the breaking of the bread;

He is personally present to them, and their whole being thrills at the presence of their creator and triumphant redeemer. They say: “were not our hearts burning within us as He talked to us on the road and explained the scriptures to us?”

In this the time of Easter, we too, may rejoice in the presence of the Risen Lord. By reading the scriptures. For as His spirit inspired the writings, His same spirit is with us the readers to reveal to us their height and depth.  Thus we may read in the prophet Isaiah the passages on the Suffering Servant, and witness how the hopes and fears of all the years are met in the words of the Gospels as justice, truth and liberation triumphantly become one.

By the breaking of bread. And when two or three are gathered in His name in the breaking of the bread,  there in our midst is the Risen Lord.  By extension, wherever food and drink are joyfully and generously shared, in private houses or in public houses, by land or sea or on the sea shore, there is He in His glorious triumph.

By His presence with us. To those who know Him, and to those who had not known Him He gives the gift of kindly light which lights up all creation with the glory that He had with the Father before all things came to be. Peoples’ hearts burn within them at the presence of their Lord, their creator and their redeemer. They know Him as the Love from which they come and the desire to which they tend.  He is the joy of all creation, the end of Love longing, the fullness of everything desired and of everything not yet desired. This is the life which shines in the darkness and which the darkness cannot overcome, which the darkness did not overcome.  The Lord has risen, Alleluia.

Fr Anthony Keane OSB

Br. Benedict Tutty, of this community, created the very striking Stations of the Cross in this church. His last station, station 14, the empty tomb, shows a simple, uneven circle etched in clay – an invitation into the mystery. 

Saint John invites us into the mystery – his story is designed to coax us into belief.   “These are written”, he says,  “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ.” 20:31

Enter Thomas.  A scientist at heart – looking for evidence not mystery.  On Holy Thursday he listened to Jesus,  “you know the Way to the place where I am going.” Thomas  struggles. “How can we know the way, when we don’t know where we are going”? Thomas wants the map.  Are we going to Cappernaum or Cappamore, Jerico or Jerusalem? And how can you be a way, a road, a street? Explain please. 

A week later, the disciples are locked in a room, terrified. Jesus comes among them, blesses them, and fills them with his spirit.  Thomas is absent – the ‘Way’ dead ended at the crucifixion – he saw the nails go in – it’s over for Thomas.  Later, he gets an urgent message, “come back, we have seen the Lord” – he doubts their story – he wants the evidence, those nail holes will do and if I can touch his side.  He returns – Jesus is among them and graciously offers him his hands and his side.  

Resurrection strikes, “she taught me what her uncle once taught her how easily the biggest coal block splits if you get the grain and hammer angled right”.  It happened in a split second – he enters the mystery –  “My Lord and My God” – he steps through the circle – moves from maps and explanations into the dangerous and exacting life of faith – no longer in charge of his destiny – faith moves from explanation to passion – “My Lord and my God”.  Comfortable, linear explanation gives way to circular, uncertain,  participation. 

He has no idea what’s next for him and it doesn’t matter. His need for evidence trumped by the risen one. 

He is ready for mystery – he has seen the way of the Cross.

It is obedience – my Lord.

It is worship – my God.

We too are invited to enter the circle in obedience and to worship – to walk through the burning fiery circle into our divinity.

Fr Simon Sleeman OSB

We give thanks and pray for our brother Rev. Jarek Kurek OSB, ordained to the diaconate today. Pochodzący z archidiecezji katowickiej, został dziś wyświęcony przez Abpa Kierana O’Reilly. Gratulujemy!

Father Simon meets one of Glenstal’s junior monks and talks about his favourite psalm, a pilgrim’s song: https://youtu.be/YKVjOrqIrsk

The Abbot and monastic community of Glenstal Abbey wish you all a very happy Easter.

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Resurrexi, et adhuc tecum, alleluia.

The opening chant of Easter Sunday is an extraordinary song. So simple, so surprising ­– not at all the song we might expect to celebrate the joy of Christ rising from the tomb and his victory over death. Its melody is the soul of discretion: no soaring flights of fancy, just a serene restraint that conveys an atmosphere of intimacy and contemplation. It breathes the paschal mystery. The agony and suffering of Good Friday are present, the silence and seeming finality of Holy Saturday linger; neither are forgotten but they are transformed in this song of gladness and love of Christ, who on rising from death, turns to his Father and sings: 

I have risen, and I am still with you, alleluia; you have placed your hand upon me, alleluia; your knowledge has become wonderful to me, alleluia, alleluia.

This song of resurrection is a song for the three people we meet in today’s gospel: Mary Magdalene, Peter and the Beloved Disciple. As they make their way to Jesus’ tomb in the predawn darkness of that first Easter morning, they are on a journey of faith, each with their own path to follow, each having to change so as to see anew and believe. And all the time they are sought by the risen Lord who knows them intimately, reaching out to each according to their need. They are our inspiration and our encouragement as we also travel on the path to faith in the risen Lord. This song of resurrection is our song too.

First is Mary Magdalene. Her love for Jesus was a strong as death, emboldening her to stand by the cross and remain with him to the very end. But now that Jesus is gone, Mary is overwhelmed by her loss, absorbed in her grief and blinded by her tears. She sees many things ­­– the stone rolled away, the empty tomb, the burial clothes, the angels, even Jesus whom she supposes to be the gardener – but doesn’t see what they mean. And the Lord reaches out to her in her need and tenderly speaks her name, ‘Mary’. It’s as if he puts a new song into her heart: I have risen, and I am still with you. And Mary is emboldened to change. She must let go, not cling to the old ways of seeing and relating to Jesus. A new day has dawned, and the apostle to the apostles can truly proclaim, ‘I have seen the Lord.’

Next comes Peter. Impetuous, imperfect, inconsistent but lovable Peter. He got things so wrong. Fear got the better of him and he denied Jesus, not just once but three times. The one nicknamed the Rock crumbled. He ran away and wasn’t to be seen at the cross. And now at the empty tomb he is even more confused than ever. Guilty and ashamed, he realises how deeply he misses Jesus and how much his self-protecting denial had hurt himself. Later in the gospel we will see how the risen Lord reaches out to Peter to bring healing, forgiveness and reconciliation into his life. He will lift the rock from the mire and on it build his church. You have placed your hand upon me, is Peter’s song as he journeys in faith and service to his risen Lord and Master.  

And finally there is the beloved disciple. He is the model disciple who shared a bond of deep intimacy with Jesus. He stood by the cross and was entrusted with the care of Jesus’ mother. On Easter morning he not only outran Peter in the race to the tomb but surpassed him in belief. ‘He saw and he believed’, we are told. We may not identify as easily with him as we do with Peter. But he, above all, foreshadows the faith of subsequent generations of believers who do not see Jesus and yet believe. God in his wisdom has arranged it so. Your knowledge has become wonderful to me, sings the Beloved Disciple.

No one, faltering or steadfast, has an easy journey to the risen Lord. We all take wrong turns. We all make mistakes. Mary Magdalene, Peter, and the Beloved Disciple were no different. On this Easter day they are our companions on our journey to faith in the risen Lord.  They assure us that there is room for each of us — for one who sees and believes, for another who sees and is confused, and yet another who needs to hear her own name. These three companions give us hope that despite our weaknesses and failings we too can come to fullness of life and proclaim the joyful news of the Resurrection.

With them we sing this Resurrection song.

I have risen, and I am still with you, alleluia; you have placed your hand upon me, alleluia; your knowledge has become wonderful to me, alleluia, alleluia.

Fr Senan Furlong OSB

Yesterday we gathered in this church and three times lifted the cross singing “Behold the wood of the cross on which hung the salvation of the world. Come let us adore.” Tonight we gathered once more, beneath the Easter Moon, and lifted the paschal flame three times singing, “The Light of Christ. Thanks be to God.” Between cross and candle we find humanities predicament: the joy and the sorrow of our existence here on earth. The gospels tell us that when the cross was lifted up there was darkness over the land; the light of Christ we carry dispels that darkness. Tradition calls this space between cross and candle Christ’s descent into hell and since we have little knowledge of this space, we use liturgical symbols to help us experience and understand. 

         Even today we are aware of this darkness, which if I let it can become a deep prison of my own making. I can become captive to my pride, my fears and insecurities, my selfishness, my self-will and loneliness, especially in these unusual times of isolation in which we find ourselves. The Book of Genesis tells us that the origin of evil in our world is pride and disobedience and in this darkness, I can fall into a deep sleep, like a living death, in a place of utter loneliness. This darkness has not gone away, but it is defeated.

The unknown ancient author of the famous Holy Saturday homily explains how. Something new is happening on this very night. Christ has entered this dark and lonely place. The earth in terror was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld trembled – an earthquake terrifying the guards at the tomb. We lack the wings needed to carry us out of this dark and lonely sleep between the cross and the paschal flame and so humanity has called for help down the ages, “Out of the depths I cry to you O Lord…” This is the prayer of the suffering, the sick, those fleeing wars, famines and persecutions. Those who live in communities held captive by the pervasive grip of criminals and those close to the moment of death. We all cry out!

         On this night, Christ puts the lost sheep upon his shoulders to carry it home, borne aloft on wings of love. He descends into the darkness of all those who are waiting, who out of the depths cry out! He takes Adam and Eve by the hand and leads them out of this dark and lonely place into the light of the resurrection and in so doing he has taken my hand too. 

         As the ancient author proclaims, “I command you: Awake, O sleeper, I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld. Arise from the dead; I am the life of the dead. Arise, O work of my hands, arise, you who were fashioned in my image. Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.”

         Between the cross and the paschal flame there is much more than darkness. In this space we find hope, we find our story, we find the story of salvation to which we have listened and we find God. This is the night and on this holy night, the entire creation cries out – beginning with the Easter Moon in darkest night. Flaming fire dispelling that darkness. Beeswax and a candle formed by human hands. Charcoal glowing and smoking incense rising in a sweet aroma. The water of rebirth and the oil of gladness. Then bread and wine so that he might be present among us. Every element of the Earth speaks, creation explodes and all together cry out:

Χριστὸς ἀνέστη! Ἀληθῶς ἀνέστη! (Khristós Anésti! Alithós Anésti!) Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed!

Abbot Brendan Coffey OSB