It is with deep sadness that the monastic community announces the death of Fr Placid Murray OSB, at the age of 104.
Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam dílis.
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It is with deep sadness that the monastic community announces the death of Fr Placid Murray OSB, at the age of 104.
Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam dílis.
Abbot Brendan Coffey OSB
For most of us, Jericho is synonymous with the collapse of its famous walls – with trumpet blast and a great shout the walls came crashing down. But did you know that Jericho is very possibly the oldest city on earth? It is certainly the lowest city on earth, 846ft below sea level. Zacchaeus lived in this city of Jericho and this is the scene for our Gospel.
Before Jesus headed up to Jerusalem, 2,474ft above sea level, he turned towards the lowest place on earth, Jericho, and it was there, in the depths, that he found our friend Zacchaeus. He literally descended as far as it is possible to descend on earth to find him. As our First Reading from the Book of Wisdom tells us, “you are merciful to all, for you can do all things, and you overlook people’s sins, so that they may repent… you correct little by little those who trespass, and you remind and warn them of the things through which they sin, so that they may be freed from wickedness and put their trust in you, O Lord.”
Jericho was known as the ‘city of the palms’, because of the abundance of palm trees in the region and yet Zacchaeus ended up climbing a sycamore tree. This should not be confused with our European sycamore trees. Zacchaeus’ tree is a species of fig, a sycamore fig. Adam and Eve used the leaves of the fig tree to clothe their shame after the fall. Zacchaeus is clothed in this sycamore fig as he tries to catch a glimpse of Jesus. The sight is rather comical; this highly respected chief tax collector, somewhat vertically challenged, runs ahead of the crowd and gets himself, somehow, up into a sycamore fig from where he can see Jesus as he passes. He must have looked pretty ridiculous.
Zacchaeus was a local celebrity, he was rich, important, the chief tax collector no less. He was, we can assume, none too popular with his neighbours as a result. Then the unthinkable happens, Jesus speaks directly to Zacchaeus. He even calls him by name. Down he comes, probably with a thump, and the Gospel tells us that Zacchaeus was happy to welcome Jesus into his house. This is his salvation, the supreme moment in his life and everything changes.
From this, the lowest place on earth, Zacchaeus is raised up. But his neighbours are not one bit happy – they grumble. Perhaps they are jealous. Why is Jesus wasting his time with Zacchaeus of all people? However, that day Zacchaeus stood tall, perhaps for the very first time in his life, and the walls of Jericho fell a second time. He promises to make restitution for any wrong he has done and more, four times more! This is real conversion, not just words, actions as well.
Where is my Jericho? What lurks in the lowest part of my life? Where is my sycamore fig, the tree of shame, so I can climb it and be recognised by the Lord, called by name, my name! How do I bring down the walls of Jericho that surround my heart and mind? Opening my heart to conversion, generosity, restitution and right living. Opening my mind to understanding, justice, and right judgment. Seeing the world as it really is. Standing tall and speaking the truth in love.
Zacchaeus has a lot to teach us about real conversion, about courage, about standing up and speaking out at the right time. What would Zacchaeus say today if he lived in our world with its injustices, wars and brokenness? His words should be on my lips if I am to convert as he did, be happy to welcome the Lord into my house and bring crashing down the walls of Jericho.
Our Autumn 2022 Chronicle contains the fascinating history of an almost century-old pectoral cross, an award from the government of Poland, tales from the holy city of Jerusalem, and much more. Read it here…
‘Why are you cast down my soul? … hope in God, I will praise him still’ – Psalm 42 chanted by the monks of Glenstal and available for listening on our YouTube page.
Words of Light and Power is a retreat for Young Adults takes place on Saturday 22nd October from 10-5pm.
Participants will discover ways of meditating on the word of God through reading, chant, art, and the prayer of the rosary.
Talks include:
+ ‘Opening the Bible’ – Columba McCann
+ ‘Hearing the Word through Chant’ – Senan Furlong
+ ‘Seeing the Word through Monastic Art’ – Luke Macnamara
+ ‘Meditating with Mary’ – Jarek Kurek
Suggested donation €30, with refreshments and lunch provided.
To book please contact 061 621005 or luke@glenstal.com
Fr William Fennelly OSB
In the readings today we are given some understanding of how our requests to God relate to time, our time and God’s time. In both the reading from Exodus and the Gospel passage from Luke we encounter urgent need. In the first reading the urgency is more obvious, for if there is not a speedy sorting out of the issues, then there’s going to be a defeat. Amalek has come to wage war against Israel, and Israel must defend itself then and there. To wait would simply allow them to be slaughtered. There’s also urgency in the widow’s plea for a just decision against her adversary. She does not seem to be able or willing to wait for the judge to take action in his time. She wants resolution now does all she can to get it.
But if they want resolution now, then both Moses and the widow cannot be passive onlookers. They have to be willing to play their part. Our actions, what we actually choose to do, show something of what our desires really are. If we want something badly enough we usually can muster up the necessary energy. In Moses’ case, he’s too exhausted to keep his hands up, so he uses not only his body, but also his intelligence by getting Aaron and Hur to support his hands when he is no longer able to keep them up. The widow, it would seem, also uses both body and mind. She figures out that her persistence will eventually get the better of the judge. And she is right.
When we ask God for things in prayer, we need to be involved, our bodies, our minds, our all. To ask God for something we desperately need makes clear that to do so in a lazy fashion risks treating God as a mere solver our problems, and so not letting Him be just Him. It may also show that our need is not really as great as we think it is. When we ask God for help, even though we put our needs in God’s hands, we show by our perseverance that we are truly engaged, our praying to God means above all not giving up, our active trust in God.
Yet in today’s readings there is another perspective on the relationship between our asking God for things and time, even if it is less obvious. As well as the perspective of our needs right now, there is the perspective, that is, seen from the perspective of eternity. We may think of this perspective, as how time is seen from God’s viewpoint. From the perspective of eternity all of our cares and concerns are seen in a much wider context.
We are reminded of this perspective in this Sunday’s Gospel where Christ speaks of final judgement, to judge the living and the dead, as we heard in the second reading. It is interesting that it’s after he speaks of the persistent widow that Christ then moves on to speak of the coming of the Son of Man, the great event of the end times, the establishment of an everlasting kingdom where the rule of God orders all things.
The widow comes across a bit like Mrs Doyle in the Fr Ted comedy badgering character to have a cup of tea, go on, go on, go on she repeats, go on give me me justice. Jesus tells this story, he says, so that we can pray continually and not lose heart. To pray is to raise the heart and the mind to God, that is to raise the heart and mind to our ultimate concern, our origin and our destiny. This is wearying because the daily round my wants and my disappointments is so much easier to
care about than who I am and where I am going. Is it any wonder we fall back in dismay. To have a goal oriented future vision of our destiny is to have an understanding of who we are, as not being fixed, but rather our true selves are in the act of becoming; becoming different, becoming better, becoming more than what we are right now. The stakes are as high as possible and this is what gives us the urgency of todays’ readings. To enter into this perspective, is not to ignore the issues that face us right now, but to see them in a new light. If we fail
in this, we should not be too hard on ourselves. The scriptures show us that the Lord never abandons us, not even in our greatest moments of doubt. To enter into the perspective of eternity is an invitation to enter into a deeper relationship with the God who ‘stepped out’ from eternity into the vulnerability of time and space in Jesus Christ. It is also to situate our problems into a bigger picture, a bigger picture that can be a great source of consolation, especially when our problems seem to be getting the upper hand. The perspective of eternity reminds us that these difficulties will not have the last word, that our lives are infinitely precious and that God is Lord of all of who we are and no part of us lies beyond his concern.
Fr Luke Macnamara OSB
Life throws many challenges at us. Whoever we are, and no matter how
nurturing and protective our parents might be, there will always be times when things don’t go according to plan. Growing up is not always easy.
The ten men probably had a bright future. Leprosy forced them to live apart and crushed their dreams. They hear about Jesus and hope that somehow he might be able to help. Keeping their distance, they cry out to him from afar, “Master, have mercy on us”. These are the very words we sung in Greek at the beginning of Mass, “Lord have mercy” and at the Lamb of God we will sing them again in Latin, “have mercy on us”. We too may have problems in our lives separating us from God, from parents, from families, and from making friends. We, like the ten in the Gospel cry out to the Lord: “Have mercy on us”.
By this, we invite the Lord to heal us. Calling for mercy is only one part of the dynamic of making us whole. Jesus sends the ten away to show themselves to the priests. The ten obey and as they went away they became free of their leprosy. Nine are delighted that all is well
and go on living their lives with their original hopes and dreams. One of the group, a Samaritan, recognises that he is healed and turns back giving praise to God for his healing and falling at Jesus’ feet gives him thanks. Again, the actions of this man will point to our actions at this Mass. The man returns to Jesus. This word “return” is the verb of repentance in the Old Testament. The prophets ask that the people return to the Lord their God. This is what the healed man has done. This is what we do at this Mass. We with all our failings call upon the Lord for mercy and once healed take up his invitation to return to
his loving embrace.
We asked and will ask for mercy. We praised God in the singing of the
Gloria (Glory to God in the Highest) and we will give him thanks in our offering of the Eucharist at the altar. Let us not be like the nine healed men who went on with their lives once all was well again. Let us not be satisfied with what the world deems success: wealth, prestige, great learning, beauty, fitness, etc. and miss out on a living relationship with God. Let us return to worship God through, with, and in Jesus at this altar and so share in the new life he offers.
Jesus gave a similar command to the ten and to the Samaritan – go on your way. For the ten this going led only to healing and living life as normal. For the Samaritan this second going in faith led to salvation. At the end of this Mass you will be sent on your way – go in peace. Do so in faith that you may live the full life that Jesus offers, one of Christian joy.
Fr Henry O’Shea OSB
Hab 1:2-3; 2:2-4. 2Tim 1:6-8.13-14. Lk 17:5-10
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness,
it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”
It is, I think, true to say that since humankind became
reflectively conscious of itself, people have always considered
themselves as living in the best and/or the worst of times.
Every era will be for some the best and for some the worst of
times. For all of us, it will, most likely, be a mixture of both.
We could be forgiven for thinking that in October 2022 we
are living in or approaching a worst of times. The catalogue of
calamities is endless. Ukraine, with the very real threat of
nuclear escalation. Covid, global warming, hurricanes and
famine. From the north to the south of the globe and within
societies, a widening gap between haves and have-nots. So,
what time are we living in?
Today’s three readings are about faith, about a patient hope
and a listening but also an a ctive love. But, what is faith? Is it
simply a wish-fulfilling whistling-in-the-dark, a coping
mechanism until our time runs out? Was Marx correct in
speaking of faith and religion as the opium of the people? And
then, nothing? ‘If that’s all there is, if that’s all there is..’
The Prophet Habbakuk in today’s first reading, surely speaks
for many of us when he howls, ‘How long, Lord, am I to cry
for help while you will not listen…why do you look on where
there is tyranny…?’ Is there any consolation for us in the
Lord’s reply to Habbakuk, ‘…this vision is for its own time
only, eager for its own fulfilment, it does not deceive…the
upright will live by their righteousness…?’ Fine, perhaps, if we
have that vision, even that righteousness, but how does this
help one to cope with, to make sense of, the here-and-now?
How does it help one to have hope for the future?
In the second reading, taken from the second letter of Paul to
Timothy, we are encouraged to fan into a flame the gift that
God has given us. We are told that this gift is not a spirit, not a
mind-set, of timidity but of power, or, better, of possibility in
the Holy Spirit. And also a spirit of love and self-control. Self-
control, not in a repressive sense, but rather as a vibrantly
aware focussing of spiritual energy. Further, we are encouraged
to be people of patient hope, bearing hardships for the sake of
the good news of the gospel, relying on the power of God. But,
might this not also be a coping-mechanism, a whistling-in-the-
dark on a personal and societal level until the time when time
runs out. And then what? ‘If that’s all there is, if that’s all there
is..’
At a first reading, today’s gospel can be a bit confusing. In
describing how a master treats his probably exhausted servant,
Jesus seems to be condoning a certain kind of arrogant attitude
of, a taking for granted of, entitlement. He seems even to be
agreeing that he who pays the piper calls the tune. But this is
not, I suggest, what the reading is about.
At the start of today’s passage, the apostles ask the Lord to
increase their faith. Jesus’ reply indicates that the apostles
haven’t even begun to grasp what faith is. Hence, the talk of
mustard-seeds, the smallest of seeds. Hence the colourful but
unlikely image of uprooting a tree and planting it in the ocean.
Here, Jesus is not interested in whether or not the servant is
justly or unjustly, or even simply inconsiderately, treated. His
message to the apostles and to us is that the beginning of faith
is an acknowledgment that we are servants, that we have done
and do only no more than our duty.
No more than our duty: this does not sound like a recipe for
a fun time. And for this very reason, faith, and along with it,
the Faith, are dismissed, ignored, ridiculed, abandoned,
unexamined, both on a personal and societal level. Does this
not sound familiar in our present society? If that’s all there is, if
that’s all there is..’
When in today’s gospel the apostles ask for an increase of
their faith, there is a hint that they are talking about some
quantifiable, measurable, commodity or skill. If one is the kind
of person who tries to control reality by science, logic and
numeration – all fine in their own place and within their own
limitations – or/and if one is the kind pf person who considers
everything to be a result of chance, of nature, red in tooth in
claw, faith in whatever form it takes, is far from the faith of
which Jesus is speaking and which St Paul tries to articulate.
Because faith is not a possession, quantifiable or not. Faith, as
a totally unmerited and gratuitous gift, a grace, from God, is
never definitively possessed, but constantly needs to be stirred
up, refreshed, renewed. This stirring up happens in the
circumstances, in the concrete realities of our lives and, as we
know too well in the trials, greater or smaller of our lives as well
as in its joys. But is this, too, just wishful thinking?
Christ is calling us to a certain dynamic, to a definite attitude
towards, or way of seeing things, and a way of living. We are
called to allow the deepest part of ourselves, the loving, all-
embracing part of ourselves to be flooded by him and to have
our way of seeing and thinking – but especially our way of
behaving – flooded by the life-affirming possibility that being
part of Christ promises and always does, if we let it, delivers. In
his Rule, St Benedict puts it very simply when he talks of
allowing our hearts to be expanded. Essential to this expansion
is our persevering acknowledgement that in response to this
great gift, we are servants of this great mystery and with it, of
one another.
This kind of brave, realistic, loving, serving faith, is not a
blinkered or gooey-eyed, sentimental, short-circuiting of reality.
It is, rather, a growing capacity to accept and even name every
reality. But this accepted, named and lived reality is a reality,
an event, that is not circumscribed not fenced in, not made
absurd, by death, but a reality open to the infinite possibility of
a life that conquers all deaths, that goes beyond all time, that
shatters the boundaries of time. An ever-flowering expansion of
our way of being.
And this is what we celebrate, trumpet, when we come together
around the tables of the Lord’s Word – the table of the
Scriptures – and of the table of the Sacrament of his body and
blood.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…’
‘ O that today you would listen to his voice!
Harden not your hearts.’
Glenstal Abbey is pleased to welcome you to our fourth Liturgical Conference, which will focus on our experience of worship within the liturgical space.
The conference takes place from Saturday 29th to Monday 31st October at Glenstal Abbey and features a range of contributors:
Considering the different elements of the community’s experience when gathered together for the liturgy is something all the more relevant in light of the COVID-19 pandemic and ‘online worship.’ This will be a fascinating conference, filled with engaging speakers, panel discussions, liturgical art tours, prayer and time for interaction between participants, speakers and monks.
Single day: €95, full conference: €230 and student concessions are available. Bookings can be made by emailing: litcon@glenstal.org
When making your booking, please include all relevant details such as the number of days you wish to attend, special dietary requirements, etc. The cost is inclusive of all meals, talks and other activities. Accommodation is not available at the Abbey and must be booked separately, though we can assist with the names of some local hotels and B&B’s, if requested.
The full conference programme can be downloaded by clicking here.