Author: Justin

This week the monastic community remembers Father Columba Breen OSB on the 25th anniversary of his death.

Born in Dublin on 18^th October 1917, Frederick Thomas McDonagh Breen attended the Christian Brothers School in Marino, Dublin, and St Flannan’s College in Ennis before entering the Dublin Archdiocesan Seminary in Clonliffe College.

While there, he read classics and philosophy in University College Dublin, graduating Bachelor of Arts in 1938. Following a year of theology at the Lateran University in Rome, during which time he became familiar with Benedictines at Sant’Anselmo, he entered Glenstal on 22^nd October 1939.

After a shortened postulancy, he entered the novitiate on 14^th January 1940, receiving the name Columba. He made profession on 18^th February 1941 and was ordained priest on 18^th December 1945. Recovering from an illness, he spent the months of February to September of 1946 convalescing in our motherhouse of Maredsous Abbey in Belgium.

Father Columba taught French, Irish and religion in the school and, already devoted to the study of Scripture, taught this discipline in the monastery. In September 1948 he became Headmaster, a post he held until 1953.  In 1957 he went to the École Biblique in Jerusalem, obtaining a Diploma in Biblical Studies in 1959. At that time, the Dominican-run institute was at the height of its influence and Father Columba made many friends and future contacts there, the most important for him being Père Pierre Benoit OP. It was from this time, too, that his interest in yoga stemmed, encouraged by Père Jean-Marie Déchanet OSB of the then Abbey of Saint-André in Bruges, now Sint-Andriesabdij. From that time, too, came his habit of singing the psalms in Hebrew while striding about a rain-soaked Glenstal Abbey!

Father Columba spent the years 1960 to 1961 in Ealing Abbey while pursuing an extra-mural diploma-course in English Literature at London University. Returned to Glenstal, Father Columba taught Scripture to novices and juniors, was frequently invited to lecture in seminaries and had an active ministry as lecturer and retreat-giver to religious sisters. He was acutely aware of the sisters’ need for proper theological formation and did what he could to promote this, often against opposition from bishops and/or from religious superiors.

He was Master of Novices for several years until 1972, when he fulfilled a long-held dream and went to the Cameroons to begin the long process of making a Benedictine foundation in Nigeria, which was recovering from civil war. During his time in the Cameroons, he taught Scripture in the Swiss Benedictine foundation on Mont Fébé, just outside the capital Yaoundé. Finally, in 1975, after tireless lobbying of a Nigerian Government very suspicious of Irish priests but not knowing what monks were, it was possible to open the foundation at Eke, near Enugu, in the former Biafra. Over the year 1978 to 1979 the foundation gradually moved further northwest out of Igbo territory, to Ewu-Isan, some distance from Benin City. Father Columba served as Superior in both Eke and Ewu from 1976 to 1982. In that year he was replaced as Superior by Abbot Augustine O’Sullivan, but continued his ministries in teaching, formation and retreat-giving until his final return to Glenstal in 1996.

Back in Ireland, Father Columba was able to pursue one of his first loves, the Irish language, attending summer-schools and even Irish-dancing classes. In addition, he wrote articles and book-reviews for Irish religious periodicals, especially for Doctrine and Life, and gave lectures on Scripture and spirituality to seminarians and religious. A major work, Feed from the Tree of Life: Homilies for the Weekday Masses, appeared eight months after his death.

Father Columba died suddenly while waiting in the statio for Mass on 6^th February 2000. May he rest in peace.

The Feast of the Presentation has been named in various ways and has had a diversity of religious associations in Christian history. The date on which it falls, February 2nd, has also non-religious – even pagan – associations, as it coincides with the Celtic feast of Imbolc.

It is called the ‘Presentation of the Lord’ because on that day the Church recalls the episode in the life of Jesus when Joseph and Mary came to the Temple to present him to the priests, and through them to God, as their first-born son in accordance with the Jewish law listed in Leviticus 12 and Exodus 13. The rite was to be carried out forty days after the child’s birth, so the church commemorates it forty days after December 25^th, and the reason for that interval is given in Leviticus: the mother was ritually unclean for a week after the birth and then her blood had to be purified. The Feast was also known as The Purification of Mary before the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council (1962-65), and a private ceremony called the ‘churching’ of women thirty days after they gave birth was almost universal.

In Exodus, another aspect of the rite is explained: it commemorates the liberation of the Hebrews on the night of the first Passover, when the first-born of the Egyptians were slain but those of the Hebrews saved. Ever afterwards, their first-born male was considered to belong to the Lord and had to be redeemed, or bought back from God, so the offering of sacrifice by the priest had a double purpose of purification and votive offering. Leviticus laid down that a lamb be offered or two turtle doves or pigeons, if the couple could not afford a lamb. Luke’s Gospel says that Joseph and Mary were in this category.

People sometimes ask what their circumstances were, and the Gospels tell us little beyond the fact that Joseph was a carpenter. That would have meant catering for the needs of a rural subsistence economy, making such items as yokes for animals, parts for ploughs – probably a reasonable living, but stretched to meet payment of the Roman taxes. They had not gone to live in Nazareth at the time of the Presentation and the visit of the magi bearing gifts occurred after that. What became of the gifts during their flight into Egypt, for example, we simply do not know…

They did ‘everything the law required’, and the account in Luke’s Gospel adds their encounter with Simeon, who emerges in the story at this point, but is otherwise unknown. He is described as ‘an upright and devout man’ (Lk 2:26). No doubt to the surprise of the parents – he was not the priest whose role it was to do so – he took the child into his arms and declared that he could now depart this life because he had seen the salvation God had promised, describing Jesus as ‘a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel’ (2:29). This reference to light is the origin of the practice of blessing candles as part of the liturgy of the Feast, and of the name Candlemas Day.

The two parts of Simeon’s testimony are significant: Jesus as saviour of the world, but also the final liberator of Israel, the long-expected Messiah. He blessed the child and then prophesied that Jesus would meet much opposition, and Mary too would suffer. This could imply that, as a humble person, the challenge of her calling to be the mother of the Messiah would bring great hardship.

Anna, who was always in the Temple, ‘came by just at that moment.’ She is described as a prophetess, a role ascribed to only a few women in the Old Testament, so her testimony has added significance. She embodied the religious aspirations of the people and saw Jesus as the one who was to come and achieve the final liberation of Israel, a destiny shrouded in mystery.

The Presentation of the Lord, grounded in Old Testament ritual, marked a decisive stage in the transition from Israel’s expectations to the universal salvation Christ would achieve by his life, death and resurrection.

Fintan Lyons OSB

During the month of January, Christians around the world unite their prayers together during the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity (18-25 January). Whilst this week is a particularly graced time of seeking unity among Christians, it is a year-round undertaking. Glenstal Abbey’s Father Martin Browne OSB of the Vatican’s Dicastery for Promoting Christian Unity talks here to the Anglican Communion Office about this task:

Can you tell us more about the work of the Dicastery? How would you summarise its purpose?

‘Dicastery for Promoting Christian Unity’ is a long name, and includes a word that is unfamiliar to many, but its meaning is very simple. It is the office in Rome responsible for ecumenism – the quest for unity among Christians. That involves promoting ecumenism and ecumenical initiatives within the Catholic Church, but it also involves engaging in dialogue and cooperation with Christians of other traditions. For example, among the Dicastery’s many relationships, we have two separate commissions working with the Anglican Communion – the Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission (ARCIC), which has been engaged in formal theological dialogue since the 1960s, and the International Anglican-Roman Catholic Commission for Unity and Mission (IARCCUM), which promotes practical cooperation between bishops of our two communions.

Why is the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity so important in the life of the Church?

In short, because Jesus prayed for it and Christians need to take him seriously! Dialogue and cooperation nurture unity, but ultimately, Christian Unity is God’s gift, and we need to pray for it. Of course, we should pray for this gift throughout the year, but a dedicated Week of Prayer is graced time each year to pray about Christian Unity with particular intensity. The fact that the prayers and reflections come from a different part of the world each year, but are used by Christians in all parts of the globe, is itself a powerful expression and foretaste of the unity for which we pray.

What does it mean to work for Christian Unity? Why do you feel called to this ministry?

One of the fundamental vocations of the Church is to bear witness to and share the Good News of Jesus Christ. To be a Christian, regardless of one’s particular tradition, is to be evangelical – in the sense of being one who believes in and shares the Gospel. Christian disunity is a countersign. It weakens our capacity to be credible witnesses in the world. How can we expect unbelievers to take Christianity seriously if Christians are marked by division and discord? It is as simple as that. The conviction that what unites Christians is infinitely more significant than what divides us has been central to my own believing and belonging for many years. To find even small ways of experiencing and expressing that unity felt like a key part of my vocation even before I found my way to monastic life and ordination. That I now find myself working full-time in Rome on this quest is an extraordinary privilege.

What excites you about the work of IARCCUM?

IARCCUM is unique! It recognises that while Catholics and Anglicans have not been able to establish a full communion relationship, over half a century of dialogue and walking together has caused them to discover how deep – though still incomplete – is the communion we already share. It challenges our two communions to take practical steps to manifest that communion in the way we minister alongside one another. It invites bishops from our two communions to take the lead in bearing witness to that relationship.

In practical terms, IARCCUM has organised two joint pilgrimages for bishops in the last ten years. I was closely involved in the pilgrimage of January 2024. It gathered over 50 bishops, in pairs, Anglican and Roman Catholic, from throughout the world for a week of walking, talking and praying together, first in Rome and then in Canterbury. During the Vespers at the Basilica of St Paul outside the Walls marking the end of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, the Pope and the Archbishop of Canterbury jointly commissioned the bishops to “together bear witness to the hope that does not deceive and the unity for which our Saviour prayed” and to “be for the world a foretaste of the reconciling of all Christians in the unity of the one and only Church of Christ”. It was an immensely moving experience. Their evident respect and affection for one another as co-workers for the Kingdom, along with their impromptu sharing in the ministry of preaching, made the words of commissioning that they spoke to the gathered bishops all the more powerful. It can be done!

What encouragements would you give to Anglicans who are seeking to strengthen church unity and encourage ecumenism in their contexts?

I call to mind some words from Pope Francis when he welcomed the participants in the Anglican Communion Primates’ Meeting to Rome last May. “The Lord calls each of us to be a builder of unity and, even if we are not yet one, our imperfect communion must not prevent us from walking together.” He went on to quote from Pope John Paul II’s great encyclical on Christian Unity, Ut Unum Sint, saying that relations between Christians “presuppose and from now on call for every possible form of practical cooperation at all levels: pastoral, cultural and social, as well as that of witnessing to the Gospel message”. The Pope underlined his belief that our differences do not diminish the importance of the things that unite us. I have a sense that this could be an important intuition for relationships within the Anglican Communion as well as for relationships between Anglicans and other Christians. Pope Francis also reiterated a statement he made with Archbishop Justin in 2016, saying that our differences “cannot prevent us from recognizing one another as brothers and sisters in Christ by reason of our common baptism”.

– Lambeth Conference, “What unites Christians is infinitely more significant than what divides us” – Reverend Martin Browne on Christian Unity,” 16 January 2025, https://shorturl.at/0p7mB.

I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions, mostly because I don’t keep them for long. Whether I keep them or not, however, the arrival of 2025 is like turning the page into a new chapter, offering a chance for reflection and closure on the past year and providing a clean slate for the year to come.

Looking back at the year gone by can bring a mixed bag of emotions. Gratitude for the blessings we’ve received, the successes we’ve enjoyed, or the new experiences we had. Regret for the missed opportunities, the broken relationships, or the things we’ve failed to do. And sorrow and grief for those we’ve lost along the way.

The dawning of the New Year gives us renewed hope for ourselves, our families, our countries and our world. There’s a feeling of excitement at the possibilities we might grasp, thanks for the fresh start we’re afforded, and not a little bit of trepidation at what might be ahead. It’s as if we have a blank page on which to continue writing the story of our lives, without the baggage of whatever the last chapter contained.

All this is rather secular, to be honest, as we Christians needn’t wait for the New Year to turn things around. Instead, it’s a possibility given to us every moment of our lives. Indeed, I’ve found that here in the Middle East the new calendar year tends to arrive with little fanfare. Rather, more attention is given to the Jewish Rosh Hashana and Islamic al-Hijrīyah, the religious “head of the year” that determines the timing of key festivals and which will impact upon, and be used alongside, the secular calendar. For example, on a recent visit to a Gulf country I noticed my passport was stamped with an arrival date of 15/06/1446… something sure to baffle border officials wherever the Gregorian calendar is used!

The quiet acknowledgment given to the arrival of the New Year in the Middle East contrasts with the lively traditions of my childhood in Northern England, where the start of the year was an occasion steeped in ritual and anticipation. As children we hoped to be the one chosen to step the “first foot” into the house, carrying with us a piece of coal and a silver coin in hope of prosperity for the year to come. I’m not sure what the significance or origin of these rather superstitious practices are, but the coal probably had something to do with the region’s mining heritage and spoke of a time when coal in the hearth was vital for a family’s survival. In those days, hope for prosperity was born of knowledge that destitution was always a terrifying possibility.

When thinking about these practices, I’m reminded of a line somewhere about how we need rituals because “we need to elevate certain parts of life by marking them out in some way.”  For us Christians, it is the Church that recognises, explains and dignifies this human impulse through her own rituals, liturgies and observances. In a less religious upbringing like my own, perhaps the sort of New Year rituals that I described took on more importance as they fulfilled the need to mark turning-points in lives otherwise devoid of Church practice and rituals.

Indeed, as participation in Church life declines nowadays a whole array of secularized rituals now seek to satisfy this human desire, often with hefty price tags attached: gender reveals, naming ceremonies, and even divorce rituals, to name but a few!

I don’t want to sound puritanical, and I do recognise how the New Year gives a very clear sense of transition and many people wish to mark it. So, if we wanted to make resolutions for the New Year we won’t go wrong by committing to something like more time for daily prayer, the reading of the Scriptures, going to Mass more often, or frequenting the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Friends of our monastery might consider taking time for a retreat at Glenstal Abbey, a commitment to regular giving, or living the Benedictine spirituality each day as one of our Oblates.

I’m not sure what, if any, resolutions I’ll be making. But I will mark the arrival of the New Year 2025, and will use it as an opportunity to review the year past and seek signs of God’s action throughout. I’ll take time to reflect on the year ahead too, mindful that every moment of the Christian life is an opportunity for renewal – not just at the start of the year. Thanks be to God!

Justin Robinson OSB

We pleased to share with you details of the liturgical celebrations for Christmas, and wish to draw your attention to changes to the timetable throughout the period:

• Tuesday 24th December (Christmas Eve)

6.00 pm – Vespers I

11.20 pm – Vigil followed by Midnight Mass

• Wednesday 25th December (Christmas Day)

8.00 am – Lauds

10.00 am – Morning Mass (no music)

12.00 noon – Solemn Conventual Mass

5.00 pm – Vespers II

• Thursday 26th December (Feast of St Stephen)

7.00 am – Matins & Lauds

12.10 pm – Mass

6.00 pm – Vespers

• Friday 27th December (Feast of St John the Apostle)

7.00 am – Matins & Lauds

12.10 pm – Mass

6.00 pm – Vespers

8.35 pm – Compline

• Saturday 28th December (Feast of the Holy Innocents)

7.00 am – Matins & Lauds

12.10 pm – Mass

6.00 pm – Vespers I

8.35pm – Office of the Resurrection

• Sunday 29th December (Feast of the Holy Family)

7.00 am – Lauds

10.00 am – Mass

12.35pm – Sext

6.00 pm – Vespers II

8.35 pm – Compline

• Monday 30th December (Sixth Day in the Christmas Octave)

7.00 am – Matins & Lauds

12.10 pm – Mass

6.00 pm – Vespers

8.35 pm – Compline

• Tuesday 31st December (Seventh Day in the Christmas Octave)

7.00 am – Matins & Lauds

12.10 pm – Mass

6.00 pm – Vespers I

8.10 pm – Vigil

• Wednesday 1st January (Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God)

7.00 am – Lauds

12.10 pm – Mass

6.00 pm – Vespers II

8.35 pm – Compline

NORMAL LITURGICAL TIMETABLE RESUMES ON THURSDAY 2ND JANUARY

• Confessions

A priest will be available on Christmas Eve from 2pm – 5pm in the Abbey Church.

• Guesthouse

Closes on Sunday 22^nd December and reopens on Monday 30^th December.

“And nothing exists except the Child”

Sometimes we might only remember a single word, sentence or scene of a movie. It’s not because the movie overall fails to inspire, but rather because a specific moment powerfully makes a lasting impression upon us.

One such scene for me comes from Of Gods and Men, the true story of a group of French Trappist monks murdered in Algeria during that country’s brutal civil war. The film was released in 2010 to critical acclaim, winning the Grand Prix at the Cannes Film Festival.

The movie begins with Algeria plunged into violence and the situation rapidly deteriorating, with the small monastic community at Tibhirine much valued by their Muslim neighbours. Militants have made a threatening visit to the monastery and the monks have begun to discuss whether they ought to leave the country or stay behind, come what may.

On Christmas Eve, the Trappists gather in the chapel and sing:

Voici la nuit,

L’heureuse nuit de Palestine,

Et rien n’existe hormis l’Enfant,

Hormis l’Enfant de vie divine :

En prenant chair de notre chair,

Dieu transformait tous nos déserts,

En Terre d’immortels printemps.

For me, it’s perhaps the most powerful moment of the entire film and the scene most etched into my memory. “This is the night, the happy night of Palestine” goes the chant. Maybe it’s because of my connections to the Holy Land, forged over more than a decade, that this moment strikes a chord. Palestine doesn’t see many happy nights, especially at the present time. This night is different, unlike others, because it’s a happy one in Palestine. How?

“And nothing exists except the Child, except the Child of divine life.” Afraid and uncertain about the future, the chant seems to break through the violence and chaos to speak to the monks in the holy night. Nothing else now exists: not the war raging outside, nor the terror which engulfs the small community, for the Child of divine life has come into the world on Christmas night and reconfigured everything. With their gazes fixed on the Christ Child, nothing more exists in this moment of prayer and song.

“By taking flesh of our flesh, God transformed all our deserts, into a land of immortal springs.” Suddenly, a new perspective has been opened. The situation has been transformed for the monks – as it has for all of us – as God enters into our broken world and takes on our fallen humanity to free it, raise it up and redeem it. A vulnerable Child lands into the chaos of the Algerian civil war – into war everywhere – to bring peace, turning deserts into springs and giving life in abundance. The darkness of the world is put to flight, as the “Child of divine life” comes to teach us divine life and give us a share in it.

It may all seem a little romantic, but this scene seems to have made a lasting impression on me. I’ve often returned to it, especially amidst the war and turmoil which besets our world – and the Middle East in particular – at this present time.

In this season of Advent, perhaps this scene can be a reminder that “nothing exists except the Child” who ought to be the focus of our attention despite the distractions all around. Everything else becomes secondary and is transformed when we put the Child at the centre of this time of year and our entire lives. It is the Child of Bethlehem, born on that happy night of Palestine, whose coming into the world changed everything and continues to do so.

This is Good News for our world: darkness is turned to light, death into life, despair into joy, affliction into hope. As Advent gets underway and leads us to Christmas in this precarious time for our world, what better gift could we hope for?

Justin Robinson OSB

This month the monastic community marks the 25^th anniversary of Abbot Augustine O’Sullivan, who died on 7^th December 1999.

Seamus O’Sullivan was born in Limerick city on 21^st October 1918. He trained and worked as a primary school teacher before entering Glenstal Priory in 1946, receiving the name Augustine. He was professed on 13^th April 1947 and, following studies in the monastery and with the Spiritan Fathers at Kimmage Manor in Dublin, was ordained priest on 15^th June 1952. For the next five years he was involved in many areas of the life of the monastery and school. During this period and later, when his workload permitted, he was a much sought-after retreat master and speaker, in particular for religious sisters.

When Glenstal became an abbey in 1957, Father Augustine was appointed Prior and Novice Master. For the next nine years, by his constant devotion and presence, Prior Augustine maintained the rhythm of monastic life while supporting the young Abbot Joseph Dowdall who was much involved in assuring the role of religious in the Irish Church, not least as the founding president of what was then known as the Conference of Major Religious Superiors.

Elected second Abbot of Glenstal Abbey at Christmas of 1966, following the premature death of Abbot Joseph, Abbot Augustine served the community for fourteen years until his retirement at the end of 1980. These were the years immediately following the Second Vatican Council. With his clear-headed and courageous defence of essential monastic values, Abbot Augustine guided the community calmly through this exciting and sometime turbulent period. He encouraged Glenstal’s contribution to the wider Church by supporting the Annual Ecumenical Conference, which had made a faltering, exploratory, start in 1964. He was an enthusiastic supporter of the older Liturgical Conference, but was sufficiently far-seeing to recognise in 1975 that this conference had, at least for the time being, served its purpose and that it was time to hand over to other fora.

Upon his retirement as abbot in 1980, when he might have sought a quieter life, Abbot Augustine went to the monastery at Ewu in Nigeria he had originated and constantly supported during his time as abbot. He remained at Ewu for the remaining nineteen years of his life, acting as superior for fourteen of these years. On his last visit to Glenstal, scarcely two months before he died, Abbot Augustine did not hide his impatience to return to Ewu, stating that he wanted to be buried there.

Appropriately, his last days were spent in the care of the Medical Missionaries of Mary, with whom he had had close associations in Ireland and Nigeria for many years. He died in Ibadan on 7^th December 1999 and, as he had wished, was buried in Ewu. People from all over Nigeria came to his funeral, witnessing to the peace he had brought into the lives of so many.

May he rest in peace.

Back by popular demand, Glenstal Abbey’s scented candles are now in-stock in our online shop: shorturl.at/jPJqY

Inspired by the botanicals of our walled garden, Father Cuthbert created these fragrant candles with La Bougie in Co. Cork.

Strike a match and lift your mood! 🕯️

The recently-elected abbot of Glenstal Abbey received his abbatial blessing at a ceremony presided over by Kieran O’Reilly, Archbishop of Cashel and Emly, on Friday 1^st November.

Born and raised in Dublin, Abbot Columba McCann OSB served as a priest of the Dublin Archdiocese before entering the monastery more than two decades ago.

The seventh abbot of Glenstal Abbey was elected by the community of twenty eight Benedictine monks earlier this year. The monastery was founded nearly a century ago and serves as a place of prayer, work, education and hospitality.

Held on the Solemnity of All Saints, the liturgy called for God’s blessing, strength and guidance upon the new abbot as he begins his role as father, teacher, and model for the monastic community.

Speaking as his eight year term of office gets underway, Abbot Columba commented: “the worst days of the pandemic brought home to us just how interconnected we are on our planet, even at a spiritual level. Part of our task as monks today is to keep rediscovering what it is we bring to the Church and the world, and what God wishes to bring to others through us.”

The ceremony was attended by a congregation of more than two hundred guests, with the Mass concelebrated by Brendan Leahy, Bishop of Limerick, in the presence of ecumenical representatives including the Church of Ireland’s Bishop of Tuam, Limerick and Killaloe Michael Burrows, Dean of Limerick and Ardfert Niall Sloane and the Methodist Church’s Gillian Kingston.