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‘Words of Light and Power’ is a retreat for young adults (aged 19 – 35) taking place at Glenstal Abbey on Saturday 22nd October 2022 from 10am – 5pm.

Participants will discover ways of meditating on the Word of God through reading, chant, art and the prayer of the Rosary.

Contributions by monks of Glenstal include ‘Opening the Bible’ with Fr Columba McCann, ‘Hearing the Word through Chant’ with Fr Senan Furlong, ‘Seeing the Word through Monastic Art’ with Fr Luke Macnamara and ‘Meditating with Mary’ with Fr Jarek Kurek.

Refreshments and lunch are provided and the suggested donation is €30. To book please contact Fr Luke at 061 621005 or luke@glenstal.com

Fr Jarek Kurek OSB

The rich man in today’s gospel was, no doubt, in dire straits. So it doesn’t come as a big surprise that he looked up [to the heavens] and begged Abraham for seconds of relief from his agony, just to have his tongue cooled. This is very human indeed.

Any success? No. With his failed request came some feedback: you had too much comfort in your lifetime, that’s why you are experiencing torments now. He was paying dearly for carelessness in his earthly existence.

What happens next, however, is far more interesting. He forgets about himself and his pain and becomes concerned about his family. On their behalf, he calls for a miracle, as he doesn’t want them to experience the horrible torments he himself is experiencing.

But what does Abraham do? He doesn’t lose his composure, no emotions really. He calmly informs the petitioner: Nothing extraordinary will help your family unless they listen to Moses and the prophets.

Would it be too big a leap for me to make to say that this man, out of his torments, may also be begging on our behalf? He intervenes on our behalf because it is all too easy to start feeling comfortable in our lives, to have our spiritual attention loosened.

Abraham’s message is clear: ‘Listen to Moses and prophets’. ‘Listen to Moses and the prophets’ if there is to be any profound change in our spiritual life, if a metanoia is to take place ‘listen to Moses and the prophets’.

Now, no one will deny that the books of the Old Testament weren’t that well known, if at all, in the church over the centuries. The focus was always on the Gospels and all that had happened throughout the centuries before Jesus, remained virtually unknown.

Today Jesus points to Abraham making us turn towards the Old Testament. We need to take this seriously. To any Jew in the first century Abraham was like a father. That’s the way he is actually addressed by the rich man: father Abraham; look how highly he was thought of. Abraham held that same authority for Christian writers at the time. We monks also refer to Abraham in our prayers every morning and every evening.

So recognising Abraham’s authority, it is for us to follow his advice: ‘Listen to Moses and the prophets’, since it will give us a deeper understanding into why Jesus came to save his people Israel.

Abraham is a true model of faith. In him and with him we believers are blessed, asserts St. Paul. It will be, I have no doubt, a wellspring of blessings for anyone who decides to undertake this effort to become a friend of Moses and the prophets, anyone who desires to become familiar with the words that God spoke through those great men of old. The path is challenging, but the effort is worthwhile, believe me, as so many spiritual treasures are hidden in the pages of the Old Testament that give a different understanding of the New Testament.

May I say at the end: Blessed are they who truly listen to Moses and the prophets, blessed are they who truly listen to the words of God, amen.

Fr Denis Hooper OSB

There is a lot of wheeling and dealing going on in today’s gospel. Quite a complex set of business transactions. Perhaps only Diego and his group young economists can make sense of it all for us. And amidst all the complexities of some pretty shady dealing Jesus finally gets his message out when he tells us in the last line of today’s gospel: “no servant can serve two masters”.

This is the best advice to give – not only to any young enteprenours and budding business executives. This is the very best of advice for all of us in the first reading from the prophet amos the lord says: “never will I forget a thing they have done”. In the second reading from st. paul to timothy we also heard: “this is good and pleasing to god who wills everyone to be saved”. Now, there is a thread of connection between these three readings. i wish to make this connection by telling you a true story from the second world war.

I recently read an account of the four Bielski brothers. “who” you may ask “are the Bielski brothers?” The Bielski brothers were polish Jews who fled to nearby forests after their parents and five other family members had been killed in a massacre in one of the polish ghettos in December 1941.

In the spring of 1942, together with 13 ghetto neighbours the Bielski brothers formed the nucleus of a group of jews who used the vast forests of present day Bellarus as their hiding place from an army that was constantly pursuing them.

Tuvia was the eldest brother and the leader of this small group who fled to the forest. He was very clear from the start that god had called him for one purpose and one purpose only: to welcome all Jews who came to join them: old and young; women and children. all Jews were welcome to the Bielski brother’s community in the forest.

Tuvia was a devout Jew and he believed from the start that god – his master – had entrusted him with the job of saving as many Jewish lives as possible. He was a relatively uneducated man who before the war lived an uneventful life as a shopkeeper until of course he was forced into the forest. Tuvia’s group was different to other partisan groups that were living in the same forest. The sole aim of the other partisan groups was to seek revenge and they wrecked death and havoc on the occupying army. But these other fighting partisans paid a huge price for their aggressiveness and many of them were killed as a result.

Tuvia was adamant that the purpose of his Jewish group was to save lives. After some time other Jews who escaped persecution in the ghettoes came to join Tuvia’s group in the forest. All were welcome and none turned away. By the end of the war the numbers filled to 1,400 Jews of all ages. They built a school, a hospital, a prayer house, a bakery, a clothes shop and more. They even had a Turkish bath house that opened a couple of times a week. Tuvia placed armed guards around the camp 24 hours a day.

On a number of occasions the Jewish community had to abandon their camp at very short notice because they had been discovered. They frequently practiced evacuations and within a very short time they were able to be gone further and further into the forests. They were never caught. They always escaped. This was a remarkable community of people and it was certainly not a perfect one. For instance, many of the younger Jews who were fit and able wanted to fight and seek revenge. Tuvia indeed let some of them join other fighting partisan groups. There are now over 15,000 Jews alive who are direct descendants of this group. And this number is growing.

A film “defiance” was made about Tuvia’s Jewish group. Daniel Craig played the part of Tuvia. It is an interesting film. Tuvia recognised that he couldn’t serve two masters. He is a wonderful example of a man who felt god calling him for one purpose alone – that of saving jewish lives. He absolutely refused to go on the offensive and seek revenge. He only allowed his group to defend with violence when they were threatened with violence. Tuvia Bielski chose god as his master. Remember our first reading today from Amos when the lord says: “never will I forget a thing they have done”. Remember St Paul’s reading: “god wills everyone to be saved” and as Jesus tells us in today’s gospel: “no servant can serve two masters”. Pretty good advice for all of us in a world that seems by the day to be getting more and more complex.

Abbot Brendan OSB

Dear Gaelán in a few moments you will be clothed as a novice and I will ask you formally if you wish to join our community. The answer you will give is revealing; you will say, “I have come here seeking the mercy of God and your brotherhood.” What important things these are, the mercy of God and community life. It is so obvious one even wonders why we bother to spell it out.

However, the novitiate is all about paying attention to the obvious, the ordinary; learning the basics and coming to a new appreciation of their importance. God invites, we respond and God sustains us in this response.

I want to tell you a story about a Desert Father called Abba Joseph. He and some of the other monks went out into the desert for a time of retreat taking their novice with them. They pitched their tent and turned in for the night. During the night, Abba Joseph went and woke the novice and said to him, “Look up at the sky and tell me what you see and what it tells you?”

The novice answered, “I see millions of stars.” “Astronomically speaking – It tells me there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. “Horologically speaking – I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three in the morning. Theologically speaking – I can see evidence that God is all-powerful, and that we are small and insignificant. Meterologically speaking – I suspect that we shall have a beautiful day tomorrow.”

Abba Joseph was silent for a moment, and then said: “You have learned much, but you see nothing! Someone has stolen our tent!” It is a gift to learn how to see the obvious. The novitiate is about learning the alphabet of monastic life and receiving the tools you will need. It is about noticing things, listening for the voice of the Lord and entering into his peace. It is about learning how to live in this community, with this very imperfect group of people. It is about patience, it is about desire, it is about love and it is about God. It is about learning what it means to say that nothing is to be preferred to the love of Christ. It is an adventure. The Benedictine saint whose feast we celebrated today, Hildegard of Bingen, reminds us to, “take a good look at yourself. Inside, you’ve got heaven and earth, and all of creation. You’re a world—everything is hidden in you.”

To help you on this adventure you have chosen St Colmcille as your patron, in deference to the name of our monastery and to the one place this great saint loved Doire Cholm Cille. From now on, this is how you will be known. Under the protection of your new patron and with the help of Mary, Mother of God, may the Lord bring the good work he has begun in you to completion.

You are invited to the ‘Wine, Women, Men, and Song’ study day on the Gospel text of the Wedding of Cana. Join Fathers Senan, Columba and Luke to explore the Cana miracle through scripture, chant, liturgy, and art.

Talks include ‘Come drink Wine: Taking our Places at the Feast’ with Fr Luke, ‘In vino veritas: Chants of Cana’ with Fr Senan, ‘The Wedding Feast of the Lamb: Liturgical Perspectives’ with Fr Columba’ and ‘From Giotto to Veronese: Celebrating Cana in Art’ with Fr Luke.

Taking place at Glenstal Abbey on Saturday 24th September 2022 between 10am – 5pm, with refreshments and lunch provided. Donation: €70.

To book please email events@glenstal.com or telephone 061 621005.

Fr Patrick Hederman OSB

The Prodigal Son

One thing we all have in common: we were born into a family of one kind or another. For some this was a blessing; for others the blessing was mixed; for many it was a disaster. Although we all have this one thing in common, it worked out differently in every case. Although you and I are family people, yours and mine were like chalk and cheese, tomahawks or SMGs. It depended on who our parents were or are, where we came in the family, how many of us there were, and above all what were they like? We choose our friends, as they say, but we’re stuck with Mum and Dad and the rest of them. No question of returned goods relief, no chance of an exchange or even a refund.

A French philosopher, Lachelier woke up one morning at the age of 26
saying to himself: ‘I realise today that I am the son of a man and a woman; that disappoints me; I thought I was a little more than that.’
Every family has sibling rivalry and inexplicable favouritism, real or
imagined. The Bible is full of it: Cain and Abel, Sarah and Hagar, Esau and Jacob, Daddy’s pet or Mummy’s boy, a black sheep and a blue-eyed wonder.

The feature film in this morning’s Gospel is a classic example: the
feckless spendthrift second son and the stalwart, steadfast, elder brother, always first in the class; never made a mistake in his life. And which one is Daddy’s favourite? You bet: the cheeky little waster who never did a day’s work in his life; who travelled the world hitting all the hot-spots, thinking of nothing and nobody except himself having the time of his life. Now we all know that there is great rejoicing in heaven when this idiot comes to his senses, picks himself up out of the pig-sty, dresses himself down and returns to his senses: three cheers for the Prodigal son!

But meanwhile, back on the ranch, what about me? Here I am, always
dependable, always loyal, always to hand. I stayed at home; I looked after the parents; I kept the family business going; I worked without reward or recognition, day and night, year in year out, come rain come shine. And what happens? The waster comes home, broke and bleary-eyed from debauch; poor little darling, worn out and exhausted from entertaining himself, on his last legs from living it up. And what do they do? Throw a party – invite all his well- wishers, his unbearable class-mates, his stockpile of girlfriends – a champagne barbecue to welcome him home.

What’s going to happen the next day? I’ll be up at dawn milking the
cows; he’ll be having breakfast in bed. Not a word of reproach, not a hint of disapproval: and don’t give me all that nonsense about how much I’m appreciated deep down, for my strong silent presence over the years, backbone of the family, my resolute reliability: I’m pissed off up to here; I’m riven with resentment; I’m ready to throttle him . . .
Now we can certainly see this point of view and I’m sure you can too:
but, unfortunately, it seems that at least one of the points of the parable is this: ‘Get over it baby, cop yourself on: if all your hard work, your duty-bound punctiliousness, your conscientious fulfilment of every tedious task that no one else will do; if all this has turned you into a bitter and resentful knit-picking judge of others, then all that so-called virtue is actually a toxic infection, paralysing not only you yourself but everyone else around you. So, get off the treadmill, unwind the whine machine, get yourself a life. The prodigal son is preferable to the po-faced perfectionist, the fault-finding sourpuss, the bellyaching grouch. So, shove that down your windpipe and ‘woke’ it, as they say these days!

Fr John O’Callaghan OSB

‘We can hardly guess at what is on the earth, and what is at hand we find with labour’, as the first reading says. Many of us may be painfully aware of how hard knowledge is to acquire as new books pile high on our desks at the beginning of the school year. To learn another language, to understand mathematics or history, or how to run a business, can challenge the most capable of us. And life is more than books: learning the guitar, winning a game of chess or a rugby match, can show us the limits of our ability- to say nothing of trying to being friendly and courteous to all and to live together in peace! In all these challenges we recognise our limitations but today’s gospel puts everything into a wider perspective: Christ reminds us of another challenge in our testing world: ‘if anyone comes to me without hating his father, mother, spouse, children, … and his own life too, he/she cannot be my disciple.’

Let us be clear from the outset that by ‘hating’ Jesus couldn’t possibly mean despising another human being; he spent his whole life teaching us to ‘love our neighbour as ourselves’, to treat people as we would have them treat us, even our enemies. No, it was the Aramaic style of Christ’s speech to use superlatives instead of more nuanced comparatives to make his point; by ‘hating’ those closest to us he was saying ‘don’t prefer them to me’. The gospel is telling us not to prefer anything at all to being a disciple of Christ, not to take anything more seriously than going-to-God and making Him the centre of your life.
This applies to us today; He is saying that in all your hopes and ambitions for the coming year, be they for top grades in the Leaving Cert’, trophies on the games fields, or good times with friends, remember that there is more to your life than any of them, more than all of them put together.

And why? Because there is more to our lives than meets the eye! We are more than our marketable qualities, more than our reputations for winning or losing, more than what we can get out of other people. In our baptism we were all made members of the People of God, given a share in the divine life as His sons and daughters, destined for eternity. Our lives are sacred, because they have been made so by God. We have been made for him, the eternal God. Our importance and value cannot be reduced to achievements, reputation, or just ‘fun’ with a circle of friends. Instead our lives open onto eternity. To illustrate this Jesus takes what may be most dear to any of us, our special relationships, with family and friends, and teaches us that these relationships must always be second to our relationship with Him. That is saying a lot, as
anyone knows who has run into the love parents have for their children. It is what Paul was talking about in the second reading today: that Philemon should take back his runaway slave, Onesimus, with affection, rather than with punishment, because he is a fellow Christian. And Jesus teaches that even life itself is not worth extending forever, as an absolute value. He showed this by taking the road to Jerusalem, where was to die. He gave up his life on the cross for something better, so that we might share with him in the life of God.

Ultimately what we are talking about here are rival loves. We have every right to love learning, to love sport, to love people. But let us love them as Christians, knowing they are not absolutes, taking us over, ‘owning’ us. They are gifts and for a time. As we move from one home to another in the course of our life, from family, to school, to the world of work and elsewhere, let us remember that our destiny is greater than them all, our true homeland is in heaven. If we make of one of our passing homes the final end of our life that would be the final end of
us. So let us approach study with serenity, sport with honesty, and people with Christian respect, thanking God for all these blessings as we make our way to our heavenly homeland.

Fr William Fennelly OSB

Today’s gospel has always struck me as having a message that is somewhat odd. Be as humble as you can be in order to get a reward it seems to say. This is not really a teaching that fits in the management and self-improvement manuals of our times, which urge us to practice discipline to become bigger, faster, stronger, more successful and of course richer. The contrast with the teaching of today’s gospel is put pithily by St Bernard of Clairvaux who said that “Love is its own
payment, its own reward”. Christ gives the most profound teaching of this kind of love in the self-emptying love of the Cross where he holds absolutely nothing back. This powerful and almost excessive love is called kenosis in the tradition.

And the great French philosopher and mystic of the 1930’s Simone Weil was particularly drawn by it’s power. God in this version of the Christian event is wholly transcendent, wholly other and anything we say about him will be inadequate to the task. And yet this is not a remote God because it is in the absolute otherness that love gets its greatest power for her and she clung dearly to the church’s teaching in the Catechism that ‘Sustained by divine grace, we respond to God with the obedience of faith, which means the full surrender of ourselves to God and the acceptance of his truth insofar as it is guaranteed by the
One who is Truth itself.’ The phrase “full surrender” stuck with her and led her to pursue her goal with an austere singularity of purpose.

For this admirable and deeply intelligent woman her proof text was that Christ ‘emptied himself, taking the form of a slave.’ For her this is: suffering without consolation, which nevertheless doesn’t degrade the soul. In an essay ‘The Love of God and Affliction’, she writes, ‘at the very best, he who is branded by affliction will keep only half his soul.’ Affliction is her theodicy, her vindication of God in the face of evil and of course this was a question of considerable moment her as a Jew in the late 30’s and 40’s in France. The deeply troubling enigma that God
should have apparently given affliction the power to seize the very souls of the innocent and to take possession of them as their sovereign lord’ sits ill with most us today I suspect. Affliction for her she said is not merely the distance from God, but absence: ‘the soul ceases to love, God's absence becomes final.’ For God Himself to experience this absence, and to go on loving, to become the void
which is filled by God, is redemption. This really powerful and has something of Ignatius of Loyola’s prayer about it, “to give and not to count the cost to labour and to look for no reward”. And yes love should be without condition but to forsake conditions to this extent seems like a form of unhinged madness that’s compelling and perhaps just too far from our more mundane reality. And yet it does rings with a truth however much we might struggle with its demand. In mortals, to go on loving in affliction is inconceivable without grace, without
the gift of God’s love. The crucifixion is unique as a moment of self-gift without reserve which is totally unconditional: it is simply a pure gift of love. Rather than fleeing the messiness of human community, Christ’s self-emptying on the cross allows for the fullness of life to be realised. the purpose of individual life fulfilled in the resurrected body; communal life in the New Jerusalem. Christ’s sacrifice is also the model for an affirmative mysticism, a way of positive affirmation of God’s presence in Creation, from this perspective we deny ourselves in service of others. If the self-annihilation spoken of by Simone Weil turns our attention inwards, exalting the self, then if we turn our attention outwards, towards others, also reduces the focus on ourselves. Surrender, then, looks more like Christ washing the feet of his disciples. As it says in John’s gospel (13:12-14) “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one
another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you”.

This spiritual tradition involves fewer fireworks and ecstasies. Rather than the ascent and descent of Weil’s theology, it moves outwards and inwards: mission, hospitality, prayer. ‘Ask and it shall be given to you, seek and you shall find’ (Matt 7:7). It encompasses the works of mercy, the hard work of forgiveness and reconciliation, the frustration and irritation of sticking with people we struggle to like. It is the Little Way of St Thérèse of Lisieux, devoting oneself to the ordinary business of loving other people and recognising the beauty and value in each of them. Rather than locking the mystic to God in an insular union, it
embeds her in a web of relationships and communities. Common life necessitates a mature understanding of one’s responsibility towards others, whereas self-annihilation makes personal responsibility much more difficult. It follows that a cataphatic mysticism would reject the hatred of the body common to the negative way I tried to describe at first, rather it works by recognising the body as a gift which enables us to live a common or shared life with all the risk it entails — eating, drinking, loving. Christ’s surrender on the cross is completed
with His resurrection and the promise of transformed, perfected, embodied life.

The promise of the new creation is not that risk will be averted, sadly that’s just not possible, but the promise that finally we will be able to see each other face to face. God reveals himself in the face of those around us. Our lives and how we live with each other really matter. This kingdom of God is coming will be shared by us all.