We give thanks and pray for our brother Rev. Jarek Kurek OSB, ordained to the diaconate today. Pochodzący z archidiecezji katowickiej, został dziś wyświęcony przez Abpa Kierana O’Reilly. Gratulujemy!
Father Simon meets one of Glenstal’s junior monks and talks about his favourite psalm, a pilgrim’s song: https://youtu.be/YKVjOrqIrsk
The Abbot and monastic community of Glenstal Abbey wish you all a very happy Easter.
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Resurrexi, et adhuc tecum, alleluia.
The opening chant of Easter Sunday is an extraordinary song. So simple, so surprising – not at all the song we might expect to celebrate the joy of Christ rising from the tomb and his victory over death. Its melody is the soul of discretion: no soaring flights of fancy, just a serene restraint that conveys an atmosphere of intimacy and contemplation. It breathes the paschal mystery. The agony and suffering of Good Friday are present, the silence and seeming finality of Holy Saturday linger; neither are forgotten but they are transformed in this song of gladness and love of Christ, who on rising from death, turns to his Father and sings:
I have risen, and I am still with you, alleluia; you have placed your hand upon me, alleluia; your knowledge has become wonderful to me, alleluia, alleluia.
This song of resurrection is a song for the three people we meet in today’s gospel: Mary Magdalene, Peter and the Beloved Disciple. As they make their way to Jesus’ tomb in the predawn darkness of that first Easter morning, they are on a journey of faith, each with their own path to follow, each having to change so as to see anew and believe. And all the time they are sought by the risen Lord who knows them intimately, reaching out to each according to their need. They are our inspiration and our encouragement as we also travel on the path to faith in the risen Lord. This song of resurrection is our song too.
First is Mary Magdalene. Her love for Jesus was a strong as death, emboldening her to stand by the cross and remain with him to the very end. But now that Jesus is gone, Mary is overwhelmed by her loss, absorbed in her grief and blinded by her tears. She sees many things – the stone rolled away, the empty tomb, the burial clothes, the angels, even Jesus whom she supposes to be the gardener – but doesn’t see what they mean. And the Lord reaches out to her in her need and tenderly speaks her name, ‘Mary’. It’s as if he puts a new song into her heart: I have risen, and I am still with you. And Mary is emboldened to change. She must let go, not cling to the old ways of seeing and relating to Jesus. A new day has dawned, and the apostle to the apostles can truly proclaim, ‘I have seen the Lord.’
Next comes Peter. Impetuous, imperfect, inconsistent but lovable Peter. He got things so wrong. Fear got the better of him and he denied Jesus, not just once but three times. The one nicknamed the Rock crumbled. He ran away and wasn’t to be seen at the cross. And now at the empty tomb he is even more confused than ever. Guilty and ashamed, he realises how deeply he misses Jesus and how much his self-protecting denial had hurt himself. Later in the gospel we will see how the risen Lord reaches out to Peter to bring healing, forgiveness and reconciliation into his life. He will lift the rock from the mire and on it build his church. You have placed your hand upon me, is Peter’s song as he journeys in faith and service to his risen Lord and Master.
And finally there is the beloved disciple. He is the model disciple who shared a bond of deep intimacy with Jesus. He stood by the cross and was entrusted with the care of Jesus’ mother. On Easter morning he not only outran Peter in the race to the tomb but surpassed him in belief. ‘He saw and he believed’, we are told. We may not identify as easily with him as we do with Peter. But he, above all, foreshadows the faith of subsequent generations of believers who do not see Jesus and yet believe. God in his wisdom has arranged it so. Your knowledge has become wonderful to me, sings the Beloved Disciple.
No one, faltering or steadfast, has an easy journey to the risen Lord. We all take wrong turns. We all make mistakes. Mary Magdalene, Peter, and the Beloved Disciple were no different. On this Easter day they are our companions on our journey to faith in the risen Lord. They assure us that there is room for each of us — for one who sees and believes, for another who sees and is confused, and yet another who needs to hear her own name. These three companions give us hope that despite our weaknesses and failings we too can come to fullness of life and proclaim the joyful news of the Resurrection.
With them we sing this Resurrection song.
I have risen, and I am still with you, alleluia; you have placed your hand upon me, alleluia; your knowledge has become wonderful to me, alleluia, alleluia.
Fr Senan Furlong OSB
Yesterday we gathered in this church and three times lifted the cross singing “Behold the wood of the cross on which hung the salvation of the world. Come let us adore.” Tonight we gathered once more, beneath the Easter Moon, and lifted the paschal flame three times singing, “The Light of Christ. Thanks be to God.” Between cross and candle we find humanities predicament: the joy and the sorrow of our existence here on earth. The gospels tell us that when the cross was lifted up there was darkness over the land; the light of Christ we carry dispels that darkness. Tradition calls this space between cross and candle Christ’s descent into hell and since we have little knowledge of this space, we use liturgical symbols to help us experience and understand.
Even today we are aware of this darkness, which if I let it can become a deep prison of my own making. I can become captive to my pride, my fears and insecurities, my selfishness, my self-will and loneliness, especially in these unusual times of isolation in which we find ourselves. The Book of Genesis tells us that the origin of evil in our world is pride and disobedience and in this darkness, I can fall into a deep sleep, like a living death, in a place of utter loneliness. This darkness has not gone away, but it is defeated.
The unknown ancient author of the famous Holy Saturday homily explains how. Something new is happening on this very night. Christ has entered this dark and lonely place. The earth in terror was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld trembled – an earthquake terrifying the guards at the tomb. We lack the wings needed to carry us out of this dark and lonely sleep between the cross and the paschal flame and so humanity has called for help down the ages, “Out of the depths I cry to you O Lord…” This is the prayer of the suffering, the sick, those fleeing wars, famines and persecutions. Those who live in communities held captive by the pervasive grip of criminals and those close to the moment of death. We all cry out!
On this night, Christ puts the lost sheep upon his shoulders to carry it home, borne aloft on wings of love. He descends into the darkness of all those who are waiting, who out of the depths cry out! He takes Adam and Eve by the hand and leads them out of this dark and lonely place into the light of the resurrection and in so doing he has taken my hand too.
As the ancient author proclaims, “I command you: Awake, O sleeper, I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld. Arise from the dead; I am the life of the dead. Arise, O work of my hands, arise, you who were fashioned in my image. Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.”
Between the cross and the paschal flame there is much more than darkness. In this space we find hope, we find our story, we find the story of salvation to which we have listened and we find God. This is the night and on this holy night, the entire creation cries out – beginning with the Easter Moon in darkest night. Flaming fire dispelling that darkness. Beeswax and a candle formed by human hands. Charcoal glowing and smoking incense rising in a sweet aroma. The water of rebirth and the oil of gladness. Then bread and wine so that he might be present among us. Every element of the Earth speaks, creation explodes and all together cry out:
Χριστὸς ἀνέστη! Ἀληθῶς ἀνέστη! (Khristós Anésti! Alithós Anésti!) Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed!
Abbot Brendan Coffey OSB
In this video Br. Pádraig sings the Exsultet, or Easter Proclamation, which will be sung at tonight’s Vigil recalling the history of salvation and its fulfilment in the Easter mystery 📖🎶🕯️ https://bit.ly/3fHYYqS
Fr. Martin Browne OSB presents a Holy Saturday talk from Glenstal Abbey titled ‘My Body Shall Rest in Safety’ on Entering the Lord’s Rest: https://youtu.be/ti7oganqBmg
Although we can’t celebrate Holy Week together this year, we gather around the Cross and invite you to join the monks in prayer, music and song in ‘Fuaim na Croise’ – https://bit.ly/2PkN4sp
Jesus carefully prepared his followers for this moment. We think of all the meals he shared and all the parables he told about banquets. We think of all those with whom he sat at table, including sinners, prostitutes and even tax collectors like Matthew and Zacchaeus. We think of the parable of the wedding banquet and its different categories of guest: those guests who refuse to come to the banquet when invited, those who arrive but are not wearing their wedding garment and those unsuspecting guests who are ushered into the wedding hall from the street. All of it leads to this moment.
The day before Palm Sunday, in St John’s Gospel, Jesus is found once more at table, this time in Bethany with his friends Martha, Mary and Lazarus. At some point during that meal, Mary anointed the feet of Jesus and the house was “filled with the fragrance of the ointment”. Judas objected, complaining of the waste of money, but Jesus saw it as an act of love. Up to this point, Jesus had always been the guest at meals, but at the Last Supper he is the host and it is as host that he washes the feet of his disciples. Foot washing was to be expected at a meal, but normally it was done by a servant or a slave as the guests arrived. Jesus waits until they are all seated at the table before he does anything. When he does wash feet, it takes place in silence until, on this occasion, Peter objects. “Never,” says Peter. Once again, this act of love is misunderstood.
Jesus doesn’t perform this foot washing as a slave would have done. He does it in freedom and from a position of strength. He removed his outer garment, washed their feet and then put his garment back on again. What St John actually says is that Jesus laid down his garment and afterwards took it up again. This is how he refers to the laying down and taking up of his life, and to the good shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep. Shepherd and foot washer are one and the same and his action places a challenge before the apostles. This is the fragrance that filled the upper room on this holy night.
As guests at this Eucharist we are also challenged, as was Peter, to accept Jesus Christ as he is and not the way we want him to be. To accept ourselves as we are and not as the brave heroes we imagine ourselves to be. Delusion has no place around the altar of God. When Zacchaeus climbed the tree, before Jesus invited himself to his house for supper, what was he hoping to see? I don’t think he was hoping to see anything, I think he wanted to know how Jesus would look at him.
This evening we need to ask the Lord to look at us with the same kindly eyes with which St Luke tells us he looked at Peter across the courtyard on this very night, so that we too might be converted. “For after the cock crowed Jesus turned and looked straight at Peter and Peter went outside and wept bitterly.” What did Peter see in those eyes? He saw what Mary of Magdala, Matthew, Zacchaeus, Mary of Bethany and many others saw. He saw what St Benedict would centuries later put in his Rule – “that we should never despair of God’s mercy” and that we should in turn be merciful ourselves. This is the challenge of the Eucharist; this is what it means to wash feet.
Abbot Brendan Coffey OSB
Br. Cyprian Love OSB plays J S Bach’s Chorale Prelude BWV 622 ‘O Mensch, bewein’ dein’ Sünde groß’, a reflection on the Passion of Jesus: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9h1LGmTc4s&list=PLAopdU4tiXlcm9l7K-DqXQ4CCoqgnoeB_&index=1
