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As we enter the New Year, my social media feed is full of advice on how to set and achieve goals for 2026, while my email inbox overflows with offers for gym equipment and self-improvement plans. But I’m not quite ready for all that — and perhaps you aren’t either.

If so, I’d like to draw your attention to a quiet gesture the Church offers in the upcoming feast of Epiphany: the singing of the Proclamation of the Date of Easter, sometimes called the calendar of movable feasts. After the Gospel, the Church solemnly announces the dates of Easter and the great feasts that flow from it. Time itself is named, blessed, and gently ordered around the mystery of Christ’s death and resurrection.

For those shaped by monastic life, this moment resonates deeply. Monasteries live by a calendar that is both intensely practical and profoundly theological. Bells ring, psalms return, seasons change, and feasts arrive whether we feel ready or not. The Epiphany proclamation reminds us that our lives are not simply a series of personal plans or private resolutions, but part of a shared rhythm — a common life in time.

There is something quietly countercultural about singing the year into being. Instead of asking, “What will I achieve?”, the Church asks, “How will we receive what is given?” As this New Year opens, rather than turning first to goal-setting videos or productivity advice, you might look instead to the singing of the Proclamation of the Movable Feasts from St Peter’s in Rome, where the year ahead is named and entrusted to God. In that same spirit, the dates of the movable feasts for 2026 are set out below, so you can take a screenshot and return to them when the year begins to unfold.

May we live this year, in all things, that God may be glorified.

Oscar McDermott OSB

The Year Ahead — Movable Feasts 2026

Ash Wednesday – 18 February

Easter Sunday – 5 April

Ascension of the Lord – 14 May
(in some dioceses celebrated on Sunday 17 May)

Pentecost Sunday – 24 May

Corpus Christi – 7 June

First Sunday of Advent – 29^th of November

This week the monastic community remembers Father Gerard McGinty OSB whose anniversary occurs at this time. Born Francis Patrick Joseph McGinty in Dublin on 12th March 1929, he was educated by the Jesuits at Belvedere Collegeand entered Glenstal on 10^th October 1948, receiving the name Gerard. He was professed on 6^th January 1950 andstudied theology at Glenstal, Maredsous and Sant’Anselmo before his ordination to the priesthood on 11^th July 1954.

After his ordination he began post-graduate studies at University College Dublin. Following some delays, these studies culminated in a Doctorate in Medieval Studies, which he obtained in 1971. His dissertation was an edition of an important Irish treatise, De Mirabilibus Sacrae Scripturae, written around the year 655.

Although Father Gerard held a variety of offices in the monastery and was a long-term Master of Ceremonies, Sacristan and Annalist, he was essentially a monk-scholar. Excelling in the editing of medieval religious texts, he was an expert in Hiberno-Latin. He edited the Glenstal Bible Missal (1983) and Today We Celebrate – the Saints and their Message (1985). Father Gerard made a major contribution to the three-volume Divine Office. In a pre-computer age of the 1970s, he was modestly proud that, as he put it, “every word of the three volumes of the English Breviary passed through my fingers.”

In 1980, he published a short commentary on the Rule of Benedict for the 1500^th anniversary commemorations of the saint’s birth. He also composed a martyrology for monastic use. There was a practical side to Fr Gerard. He was one of the first in the community to master the complexities of the computer and for a number of years he was responsible for the maintenance of our telephones.

He also liked outdoor work, and spent much of his free time managing our garden and orchard. His knowledge of birds was extensive and he was keenly interested in all aspects of nature and wildlife. From its foundation in 1968, up to his death, Father Gerard was the official representative of Birdwatch Ireland in its survey of the two ‘squares’ that covered the townlands of Glenstal and Cappercullen.

At a spiritual and pastoral level he was a man of faithful observance who was always available for the hearing of confessions, the counselling of people with problems and the giving of blessings. Faithful to the end, it was in the course of a full working day that he died on the evening of Saturday 29^th December 2001.

May he rest in peace.

Fr. Jarek Kurek: There you go — we’ve been celebrating another Christmas, a truly beautiful time for any family.

And yet today, the loveliness of this season seems to have been disturbed. What we see instead is the Holy Family — Jesus, Mary, and Joseph — fleeing in fear.

Who caused this havoc? Herod. Herod, having heard of the rise of a new king, perhaps one mightier than himself, felt threatened. He might have thought, “I am the star of the show; I cannot let anyone else shine.” Cruel as it was, he chose to annihilate the potential danger.

Jealousy — that was Herod’s feeling, a trait that has marked the human condition since the beginning of the world.

And yet, from the very beginning, weren’t we meant, as humans and as families, to be united in love — as we see in the story of Adam and Eve?

But the Enemy came lurking — the Devil, diabolos, the one who divides.

Why did he disturb the harmony of human existence? Because he was jealous. In fact, he was the prototype of Herod: he too felt threatened and refused to let anyone hold a higher place than himself.

Cain was jealous and became a murderer of his brother Abel. The brothers of Joseph shared that same jealousy. And many others have followed that path.

But we hardly need those biblical examples. Just look at the news — from Ukraine, the Middle East, or Africa. Killing each other has become our daily bread, something once thought unthinkable after the tragedy of World War II.

Yet murder can take subtler forms. It can be found in our words — for words can wound, sometimes lethally. It can appear in our gaze — don’t we say someone gave a “murderous look”?

What does that say about us? Doesn’t it reveal our unhappiness, our bitterness, perhaps even hatred? And yet the worst of all these feelings is Herod’s feeling — jealousy. Because jealousy, believe it or not, leads directly to murder, though it may not always take a physical form.

Today, this Christmas, we have a great chance to reverse the cycle. It is a marvellous opportunity to turn our hard feelings into compassion and love — to be reborn after the model of Jesus and his family. Does that idea attract me?

But this renewal requires real effort. I must look within, examine my heart, and confess before the inner tribunal of my conscience any trace of jealousy — whether in my family or in my community.

Anyone courageous enough to begin this spiritual renewal will soon rediscover our true human and Christian destiny. 

And what is that? As human beings, we are meant to be a bond that unites all creation; as Christians, we are called to be witnesses to the bond of love.

There is no doubt that a destructive, divisive spiritual force is at work in the world. But we Christians, empowered by God’s love, have the mission of binding and unifying — wherever and whenever we can.

Fr. Henry O’Shea: ‘Paris is well worth a Mass.’

In 1592, after three years on the throne, King Henry IV of France, a vociferously avowed Protestant, guaranteed his grip on that throne by converting to Catholicism. On doing so, he is alleged to have quipped about Paris and its worth. A Mass.

Even if the king didn’t actually use these words, they sum up succicintly the cunning self-promoting cynicism which, from the beginning of time, has characterised many successful politicians. What matters is winning – at whatever the cost and regardless of human collateral damage. Does this sound familiar? 

Today’s first reading from the prophet Isaiah, mentions the king, Ahaz, but supplies none of the back-story of this walking disaster who was King of Judah in the eighth century before Christ. To avoid having his rather small kingdom attacked by hostile neighbours and in particular, to avert a take-over by the regional super-power, Assyria, Ahaz instituted and promoted what was in effect a cultural surrender. He permitted and promoted a cultural colonisation. Does this sound familiar?

Earlier on in the Book of Isaiah, we hear of how Ahaz desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem, placing in it idols of the gods of neighbouring kingdoms and halting or disrupting traditional temple worship. He also, for the convenience of citizens and visitors, for passing trade, had shrines erected at street corners for devotional quickies. He explained that he was not so much denying the God of the Jews as practising what today is called inclusiveness by giving other gods and other religious outlooks a look-in. Whatever you’re having yourself…you know.

As so often, the compliant, conformist, opportunistic and indifferent in society went with the flow. We’re all the same really, aren’t we. And isn’t one set of beliefs really as good as any other? Or, as Frederick the Great of Prussia would declare twenty-four centuries later, ‘Everyone should be allowed to be saved in his – sorry, in their –  own fashion.’ Isaiah tells us that Ahaz ducked the issue by refusing to oblige the Lord by asking for a sign. It was and usually is, too risky to put present compromises in jeopardy. 

So, it is no wonder that Ahaz refuses to ask a sign of God. He is not really sure to which god he should turn. He is not really sure if there are actually any gods to which, to whom, he can turn. He ducks the issue by claiming that he would prefer not to put the God of Israel, the Lord, to the test.

While Isaiah is as capable of a bad-tempered rant as most other prophets, in this case he simply tells the House of David about a sign that it will get from the Lord: ‘Listen now, House of David! Not satisfied with trying human patience, will you try my God’s patience too? The Lord will give you a sign in any case. Look, the virgin is with child and will give birth to a son whom she will call Immanuel — God is with us.’ No explanation, no date, no century, no time-scale. Simply a promise.

Today’s gospel, by quoting the first reading, literally links up this promise with what we celebrate, with what we recall and look forward to every Advent and Christmas. Today’s gospel links this promise with what we celebrate, recall and look forward to at every liturgy – with what we celebrate, recall and look forward to all of our baptized lives. In his dream, Joseph is told just enough to make it possible for him to give his heart and soul.

Today’s second reading also describes, if only partly, who this Immanuel, this human descendant of David was, is and will be: Jesus Christ, the Son of God, ‘in all his power through his resurrection from the dead.’

Through his resurrection from the dead: that is, not by philosophical argument, not by political ideologising or activism, not by psychologising, not by magic, convenience, not by manipulability or mere usefulness. Importantly, too, not as the possession of any exclusive group, ethnic, cultural or cultic. 

While Paul, in his letter to the Romans, affirms that he received grace and his apostolic mission to preach through Jesus Christ, he affirms simultaneously, that every nation, every people, every one of us, has received that grace and apostolic mission to preach the obedience of faith…. the listening to and spreading of message of the baptised heart and the living of its consequences.

And this grace and mission can be undertaken only when each one of us starts with her or his own heart as the recipietnt of grace and as mission territory. This Immanuel, this God-with-us, at every moment of our being is calling us to be Advent, to be Nativity, to be Epiphany, that is, to be always waiting for his coming, to be constantly reborn, to give witness to, to radiate, this coming and birth. 

While there will always be an Ahaz in every one of us, and every one of us is our own Paris,  Immanuel, God-with-us, certainly can and does make us well worth a Mass.       

Fr. Denis Hooper: 

THE GLASS IS HALF FULL

THE GLASS IS HALF EMPTY

SOME OF US ARE SAID TO BE BORN OPTIMISTS

SOME OF US ARE SAID TO BE BORN PESSIMISTS

I DON’T THINK THAT IS ENTIRELY TRUE. THERE ARE TIMES IN OUR LIVES WHEN THE GLASS IS INDEED HALF FULL. THERE ARE OTHER TIMES IN OUR LJVES WHEN THE GLASS IS INDEED HALF EMPTY

RESEARCH HAS BEEN DONE ON PEOPLE WHO ARE GENERALLY OPTIMISTS. THEY LIVE LONGER AND HAPPIER LIVES AND HAVE GOOD AND LASTING RELATIONSHIPS

TODAY IS THE THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT – GAUDATE SUNDAY. GAUDETE AS THE LATIN SCHOLARS AMONG US WILL KNOW TRANSLATES TO ENGLISH AS “REJOICE”

THE COLOUR OF THIS WEEK’S ADVENT CANDLE IS PINK – IT SYMBOLISES THE LORD’S IMMINENT ARRIVAL – CHRISTMAS DAY IS ALMOST UPON US

“WHAT DO WE HAVE TO REJOICE ABOUT” SOME OF US MAY SAY? THE DAYS ARE DARK – THE WINTER SOLSTICE – THE DARKEST DAY OF THE YEAR IS A WEEK AWAY. OUTSIDE, IT’S BEEN MISERABLE FOR THE PAST MONTH OR SO. REJOICE? REALLY?

LET’S MOVE TO TODAY’S GOSPEL. JOHN THE BAPTIST IS IN PRISON.  A RECENT REPORT INTO MODERN PRISONS IN IRELAND TELLS US THAT THREE PRISONERS TO A CELL IS NOT UNCOMMON

BRENDAN BEHAN IN THE BORSTAL BOY GIVES US A GLIMPSE INTO THE CONDITIONS HE ENDURED IN PRISON:

“A HUNGRY FEELING, CAME ORE’ ME STEALING

AND THE MICE WERE SQUEALING IN MY PRISON CELL

AND THE OULD TRIANGLE WENT JINGLE JANGLE

ALL ALONG THE BANKS OF THE ROYAL CANAL”

BUT IN THE PALESTINE OF JESUS PRISONS WERE HORRIFIC WITH NO LIGHT, NO RECREATION, INFESTED FOOD – AND THE LIST GOES ON. YOU STOOD A FAIR CHANCE OF NEVER COMING OUT OF THEM ALIVE

TODAY WE READ THAT JOHN THE BAPTIST IS IMPRISONED. THE IMAGE I HAVE OF HIM IS THE DARKNESS OF HIS CELL

IF YOU REMEMBER, JOHN BAPTISED JESUS IN THE RIVER JORDAN. JUST IMAGINE THAT DAY, THE SUN WAS SHINING, JOHN BAPTISED THE MESSIAH, EVERYONE WAS IN GREAT FORM, EUPHORIC. THE VOICE OF GOD WAS HEARD TO SAY: “THIS IS MY BELOVED SON”. JOHN DECLARED THAT JESUS WAS “THE LAMB OF GOD”. THERE WAS HOPE IN THE WORLD: THE GLASS WAS HALF FULL

BUT NOW JOHN IS IN PRISON, UNDERGROUND IN A DARK AND DANK CELL, JOHN IS STRUGGLING. HE IS HAVING DOUBTS ABOUT WHAT WAS ONCE SO CLEAR TO HIM. HIS GLASS IS NOW HALF EMPTY

THE MAN JESUS SAID WAS “THE GREATEST PROPHET BORN” IS NOW IN THE DEEPEST DARKNESS OF A PRISON

JOHN IN A DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO ASSURE HIMSELF AND TO QUELL THE DOUBTS OF DARKNESS HE TELLS HIS FRIENDS TO GO AND ASK JESUS IF HE IS THE MESSIAH AFTER ALL. WHAT A CHANGE FROM THE MAN WHO BAPTISED JESUS

JESUS COULD HAVE ANSWERED IN A YES OR NO TO JOHN’S QUESTION. BUT HE DOESN’T.  HE KNOWS THAT JOHN NEEDS TO HEAR MORE. HE SAYS: “TELL JOHN WHAT YOU HEAR AND SEE: THE BLIND RECEIVE SIGHT, THE LAME WALK, THE LEPERS ARE CLEANSED, THE DEAF HEAR, THE DEAD ARE RAISED AND THE POOR HAVE GOOD NEWS BROUGHT TO THEM” 

THAT’S ALL JOHN NEEDS TO HEAR. THE GLASS IS ONCE AGAIN HALF FULL

THERE ARE TIMES IN OUR LIVES WHEN SOME OF US CREATE PRISONS OF OUR OWN – EVERY BIT AS MISERABLE AS THE PRISON JOHN THE BAPTIST FOUND HIMSELF IN

WE FIND OURSELVES IN TOTAL DESPAIR – JUST LIKE JOHN. THERE IS NO POSSIBILITY OF US ON OUR OWN ESCAPING THE WALLS WE HAVE CREATED FOR OURSELVES

IT IS AT TIMES LIKE THESE IN OUR LIVES WHAT WE NEED TO LOOK AT JOHN THE BAPTIST AND TO SEEK REASSURANCE THAT LIFE IS INDEED GOOD. THAT THE GLASS IS INDEED HALF FULL

AND WHEN WE DO REACH OUT TO JESUS AS JOHN THE BAPTIST DID, WE WILL FIND HIM WAITING FOR US READY TO FREE US FROM THE CHAINS THAT BIND US. WE ONLY HAVE TO ASK. THE ANSWER WE GET FROM JESUS IS NEVER AN LAZY YES OR NO. IT IS ALWAYS DIRECTED PERSONALLY AT US. IT IS ALL WE NEED TO FREE OURSELVES

AND WE WILL KNOW LIKE HOW JOHN THE BAPTIST DID AFTER JESUS REPLIED TO HIM- THAT THE GLASS IS INDEED NOT JUST HALF FULL BUT FULL TO THE BRIM

AND WE WILL INDEED HAVE A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF WHAT GAUDETE SUNDAY MEANS NOT JUST FOR OURSELVES BUT FOR THE WHOLE WORLD

I LEAVE THE LAST WORDS TO ANOTHER IRISH WRITER AND POET, OSCAR WILDE IN HIS POEM “THE BALLAD OF READING GAOL”:

THE WARDERS WITH THEIR SHOES OF FELT

CREPT BY EACH PADLOCKED DOOR

AND PEEPED AND SAW WITH EYES OF AWE

GREY FIGURES ON THE FLOOR

AND WONDERED WHY MEN KNELT TO PRAY

WHO NEVER PRAYED BEFORE

ENJOY YOUR GAUDETE SUNDAY. AMEN

 

Fr. Christopher Dillon: This season of Advent in which we find ourselves has a prophetic character; and prophets are regularly anti-Establishment, insofar as they call the Establishment and its keepers to account for their ministry or the lack of it. During the past week, we have heard the prophet, Isaiah, excoriate the hypocrisy of the priests and those conducting the sacrificial ritual of the Temple worship, because it bears no relation to their everyday behaviour of corruption and greed. 

Today, the same theme is continued under the aegis of the Baptist. When the representatives of the Jewish Establishment appear, in the persons of the Pharisees and Sadducees, John is quick to observe the discrepancy between their apparent readiness for penitential reform and their actual behaviour; “If you are repentant, produce the appropriate fruit, and do not presume to tell yourselves, ‘We have Abraham for our father’; that is, ‘We are members of the Chosen People’”. 

We, here, might all say of ourselves, “We are Mass-going Catholics”. The Baptist responds, “So what?!” Our ploughing through the ritual of our prayers and services counts for nothing, unless our behaviour manifests the goodness, the holiness and the generosity of the Father.

But there is more, much more, to what the Baptist has to communicate to us; he has a profound sense of the unique transcendence of his divine cousin and of the relative littleness of us, mortal human beings. “I am not worthy to carry his sandals”, he says of himself; and of Jesus, “He will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” What he meant by that, what he understood by that, is for the scholars to discuss; but it is clear that he appreciated the littleness of human achievement in the context of the grandeur of God and, by association, the insignificance of the Pharisee and Sadducee agenda. Incredible as it may sound to our ears, both Pharisee and Sadducee, whatever the difference in their theology, believed that the merits of Abraham before God were such as to guarantee the favour of God for every Jew, simply because he or she was a descendent of Abraham. 

For all of us, here, today, the Baptist is calling us to take account of our real situation, to consider the meaning of our existence in the vastness of God’s creation. We, Christians, could be at risk of presuming too much on the merits of our Baptism; for our faith teaches us that God became human so that we humans might become God. “Not so fast!”, the Baptist interposes, “Show me the fruit of your Baptism”. Through the centuries, the history of the Church as the community of those who believe that Jesus has risen from the Dead, for all its sins and faults, has been uniquely characterised by its care of the poor and the sick; just think how many religious orders have been founded for precisely that purpose, providing hands and feet to work God’s kindness among his people. 

Working God’s kindness among his people, that is the meaning of our existence; that is the fruit of our conversion, as we make our way through the maze of life, to realise the glorious goal for which God has created us, the goal for which God became a human being in Jesus of Nazareth. Only by this means, only by this work, does our attendance at Mass and our other religious practice have any value, any meaning. Advent is the time to consider these things.

Fr. Luke Macnamara: The vision of the end of time is compared to the flood in the days of Noah. Strikingly, the people swept away by the flood are not described as great sinners; they are simply going about their ordinary lives—eating, drinking, marrying—yet they are unprepared for the coming of the Lord’s salvation. Noah, whose Hebrew name signifies “rest,” embodies in his person what the Lord desires to offer his people. It seems that most were too busy with their daily tasks—perhaps even neglecting the Sabbath rest—and so failed to respond to God’s call in their lives.

Isaiah presents a hopeful vision of all nations streaming to the temple of the Lord. There, all will hear the Lord’s teaching and learn how to walk in his ways. The Lord’s instruction brings about profound change: not only do the nations gather together as one, but their relationships are transformed.

The teaching of the Lord promises change to all who heed it. The word of the Lord, which caused the hearts of the disciples on the road to Emmaus to burn, can smelt the hardened metal within us, transforming it from weapons of war into tools for tilling the land—tools that provide food and foster peace. These metal objects can be seen as symbols of our human capacities: our ability to relate to God, to ourselves, and to one another. St Benedict’s vision is that these capacities become tools of good works. If some of these capacities have become instruments of conflict, the transforming word is given to us to smelt and reshape them. The metal that enters the foundry of the word is the same metal that emerges again; nothing of our human capacity or energy is lost—rather, it is transformed and redirected toward good works.

Tools must be properly crafted to fit our hands and to be of service. God has revealed to us the proper shape our capacities—our will, our energy—should take in order to live in communion with God, with ourselves, and with others. This shape is revealed in Jesus Christ, which is why St Paul can speak symbolically of Christ as our armour.

We require armour—not swords or spears—but the tools of good works. These are the tools that will keep us aligned with Christ when the burglar arrives at an unexpected hour. Conformed to Christ, we and our households are safeguarded against the shifting tides of human relationships, the disappointments of life, and the shattering of dreams. Christ reveals our true destiny in a sustaining vision: that we will all come to the one house of the Lord, dwell there together, and continually hear his word, which holds us in peace in his presence.

Let this vision guide our hope and shape our lives. Let the word burn within our hearts so that our capacities may be transformed for good. And let this vision and this word open us to welcome and receive the empowering gift of the Eucharist at this Mass.

 

 

Advent (from the Latin adventus, meaning “coming” or “arrival”) is a period of preparation for celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, who, as the incarnate Word, is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end of universal history. The first part of the season focuses on the second coming of Jesus as the hour of great liberation for humanity and the cosmos. As the Nicene Creed puts it, “the one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, […] will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.”

In the Middle Ages, this event was often interpreted as a dies irae, a day of punishment and wrath. However, in the early tradition of the Church, it was understood primarily as the culmination of the redemption that Jesus Christ had accomplished through his Paschal mystery. Indeed, the Parousia, or second coming of Christ, is the moment when the wounds of history will be finally healed. At his return, Jesus, appointed by God as judge of the living and the dead (cf. Acts 10:42), will embrace the world with divine love – a love that unites mercy and justice in complete harmony. On that day, every wrong will be made right, every injustice will be resolved, and all creation will be renewed in the peace of God’s redeeming truth.

This culmination of God’s saving purpose is portrayed in the Book of Revelation as the establishment of a new heaven and a new earth, and as the descent from heaven of the holy city, the new Jerusalem, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband (cf. Rev 21:1-2). Then a loud voice declares from the throne of God: “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with humankind. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more; neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain any longer, for the former things have passed away” (Rev 21:3-4).

During Advent, the Church voices her deep longing for the fulfilment of this promise crying out, “Maranatha! Our Lord, come!” This is the prayer of a people deeply committed to the renewal of the world. It is the heartfelt entreaty of those who know that they will not see the full realisation of God’s kingdom at the end of time unless they labour to establish it here and now, unless they strive to make God’s justice, peace and love a reality in the midst of human history. That is why Saint Paul reminds the Corinthians – and all believers across the ages – to live out their ethical responsibility, saying: “We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil” (2 Cor 5:10). At times, such a prospect may seem too daunting for anyone to face it with confidence. Yet we will be judged by one of our own flesh and blood – the One who called all believers his own family (Mt 12:49-50) and who said, after his resurrection: “Do not be afraid” (Mt 28:10) and “Peace be with you” (Jn 20:19, 21, 26).

One might wonder why, in the first and longer part of Advent, the Church directs her gaze to the Parousia, turning only in the final days – from December 17 to 24 – toward Jesus’ first coming in Bethlehem. It is because only in the light of the end can we fully understand the beginning. The child whose birth we await is the same Lord who will come again in glory to bring creation to its fulfilment. By contemplating his return, we see more clearly the meaning of his first coming: the Redeemer born in humility is also the judge and king who will make all things new. This vision stirs our hope and calls us to conversion, to vigilance, and to an openness of heart, so that we may welcome Christ not only as he once came in history, and not only as he will come in glory, but also as he comes to us now – quietly and yet powerfully – through faith, love and mercy.

Lino Moreira OSB

In 1969 Pope Paul VI visited Uganda and made a plea in Kampala for Africans to become Missionaries in and for the Church themselves. The Catholic Bishops Conference of Nigeria established the National Missionary Seminary of St Paul in September 1976 and invited Kiltegan priests of St Patrick Society in Ireland to assist in the formation programme. Around the same time, inspired by the same call from Pope Paul VI, monks from our monastery at Glenstal Abbey in Ireland founded a Benedictine community at Ewu, also in Nigeria.

I taught philosophy and theology for three years from 1992 to 1995 at Gwagwalada, where the MSP have their headquarters and their seminary near the capital of Nigeria, Abuja, One of the classes I taught were celebrating their silver jubilee of ordination in October this year and they invited me back to preside at their Jubilee mass and conduct the retreat which preceded this happy occasion. Abbot Christopher Dillon who had served in Ewu as prior and novice master from 1990 to 1992, and who has visited there on a yearly basis until they became independent in 2006, is now helping them to finance the building of a new church due to open in 2026. We decided to go together from the 9^th to the 26^th of October this year. Christopher went directly to Benin while I remained in Abuja with the MSP, following on later to join him at our daughter house in Ewu.

Pope Paul’s initiative has come to fruition. Both these enterprises are now thriving: MSP has almost 400 missionary priests all over the world [including fourteen of their members working in parishes in Ireland]; while the monastery at Ewu has a community of 62 members and have foundations in Calabar and in Angola.

Whereas Saint Patrick’s Society in Kiltegan have no longer any vocations in Ireland and have moved their central organisation to Nairobi in Kenya, their onetime thriving motherhouse at Kiltegan is now a retirement home for returned missionaries. This means that Africa has become a focal point for global Catholicism and the expansion in Nigeria, both in its contemplative and missionary wings, is in full flight. Nigeria has become a beacon of light for the Catholic Church as a whole.

Mark Patrick Hederman OSB

Among the students of Glenstal Abbey School going home for the Christmas holidays in 1990 was sixteen-years old Peter, who carried with him in a black plastic sack a sapling walnut tree, five feet high, complete with root ball, and pruned to a few short branches.

Naturally, he was subjected to ribbing by his companions on the train – jealous really at his being favoured, but he could forget that when his mother exclaimed her delight on meeting him with his tree at the station in Dublin. She was skilfully developing the landscaped grounds of their property, acquired some years previously, and decided at once that there would be a suitable place beside a stream flowing through the centre of the grounds for this gift from Glenstal.

She knew that during the term Peter had been a steadfast and strong volunteer working with Fr Brian Murphy OSB and myself in the Terrace Garden, in our endeavours to rescue it from its very overgrown state. Fr Brian had taken a cutting from a walnut tree in the vicinity of the garden, rooted it expertly and had it develop into a sapling, which he presented to the surprised Peter.

Thirty-five years later it remains prominent in the family’s tastefully developed parkland, a very big, magnificently shaped, tree yielding annually a bounteous harvest of walnuts – truly ‘a tree planted by flowing waters with fruit that never fails’ (Ps 1.3).

For Peter it is an appropriate reminder of happy and fruitful days in the school, and it is also a testimony to thelate Fr Brian, who continued ever afterwards to work in the garden up to the day before his sudden death in 2022.

Fintan Lyons OSB