+ Multum enim sunt vocati, pauco vero electi. Many are called; few, truly, are chosen.

As we commence our annual preparation for the great fast of Lent on this Septuagesima Sunday, our Holy Mother the Church chastens us, as it were, with the Lord’s stark reminder that whilst many are called, the truth is that few are chosen; few, in the end, find themselves amongst the elect of God in His Kingdom.
 
These are uncomfortable words—or at least they should be—because they refute the contemporary heresy that anesthetises people to the eternal realities of death, judgement, heaven or hell by assuming a universal salvation that exalts the mercy of God whilst ignoring the demands of His justice. Our world today, and yes, far too often some in Christ’s Church, assume that we cannot go to hell, thereby rendering our moral choices irrelevant and eviscerating the mission Our Lord gave to His Church. Those who hold to this heresy would have the Gospel read: “All are called, and all are chosen—regardless of their free will or the choices they have made in this life.”  
 
But the Gospel of Our Blessed Lord, Jesus Christ, the definitive revelation of God in human history and the unique Saviour of mankind, does not say this. It says: “Many are called; few, truly, are chosen.” And the One True Church He founded must faithfully proclaim this reality until the end of time—ministering His mercy and saving love through the Sacraments He instituted, most certainly, for we sinners have constant need of his grace and help, but never presuming to annul the reality and the demands of His justice, before which we must all answer.
 
In considering this sober reality, we would do well to contemplate two things. The first is the indignant question of the owner of the vineyard that we hear in the Gospel of this Holy Mass. “Why do you stand here idle all day?” he asks the men standing doing nothing in the market place. Through her Sacred Liturgy the Church asks each of us this question today.
 
And certainly, there is much work that needs doing—in the further conversion of our own lives, in uprooting vice by facing its reality in ourselves with an honesty that recognises its eternal consequences, in growing in virtue through the assiduous cultivation of good spiritual practices. There is much to do in our families, in our places of work, in our communities, where each of us are called to be witnesses to the truth that “many are called” but “few, truly, are chosen.” So too, we must bear courageous witness this truth in the Church, and refute errors that deny it or undermine its imperatives.
 
So too, there is much work to do in the Lord’s vineyard, and in contemplating the Gospel of this Holy Mass we cannot ignore all that it has to say to a young man or woman whom the Lord calls into His particular and intimate service in the monastic, religious or ordained life. Standing idle in respect of the Lord’s call is rightly rebuked. There is work to be done; if I do not do it when I am called, it shall remain undone—and for that I must answer before the justice of Almighty God.
 
The second thing we should contemplate on this Septuagesima Sunday is the exhortation of Saint Paul in this morning’s epistle to run so as to be victorious in the race. What he is saying becomes clearer if we consider the obverse: “Do not lose the race,” St Paul is saying. “Do not run so as to achieve defeat.” “Do not give up.”
 
Oh yes, it is so very easy to ‘give up’, isn’t it?! Self-pity, fear, sloth, wounds and illnesses all provide us with innumerable excuses or even reasons to say “I cannot…” when even more is asked of us. But St Paul would have us continue. He exhorts us to run to win the prize, not to fall by the wayside and lick our wounds, just as St Benedict instructs his sons who believe that that which has been asked of them is impossible to obey their superior nevertheless “out of love, trusting in the assistance of God.” (Rule, ch. 68). For Our Lord teaches us that “He that shall persevere to the end shall be saved.” (Mt 10:22)
 
On Septuagesima Sunday our holy mother the Church signals that Lent is approaching fast so that it does not catch us unaware, as it were. But as the Sacred Liturgy makes clear today is more than a mere purple flag asking us to remember a forthcoming event. It calls us to a sober and chaste contemplation of the reality that many are called but few, truly, are chosen, and by so doing seeks to wake us from our idleness and to encourage, indeed urge, us to keep running the course.
 
We may be tired, we may be injured, we may be utterly distracted; but none of those things changes the truth of the Gospel—the Gospel which assures us that the grace and the mercy we need are available for the asking if we but turn to the Lord and ask. As we now approach His altar to offer the Sacrifice of His Love, let us do precisely that. +

Toutes nos félicitations aux Abbayes du Barrroux et de La Garde
pour la preparation et la parution de cet ouvrage monumental :
une édition latin-française des matines bénédictines en trois volumes.

En outre, il existe également une édition dans un volume en latin uniquement.

Congratulations to the Abbeys of Le Barrroux and La Garde
on the preparation and publication of this monumental work:
a Latin edition of the traditional Benedictine night office (matins). 

In addition, there is also a three-volume edition
in Latin with a French translation on opposite pages.

+ Domine, salva nos, perimus! “Save, Lord; we are perishing!”
 
How often since that storm on the sea that is recounted in the Gospel of this Holy Mass have Christians cried out “Domine, salve nos, perimus!” collectively or individually? How often in the history of the Church has it seemed—as it does at times today—that the Lord sleeps whilst His Church is attacked on all sides from without and is ravaged by strife within? How frequently do we feel ourselves to be helpless, to have used up all our energy and good will, and to be in grave risk of perishing because the Lord sleeps and simply does not act on our behalf. We try to be faithful, to conquer vice and to grow in virtue, but we seem to make no progress. The danger persists. The Lord sleeps whilst we rightly fear perishing.
 
It may be of some comfort to know that this is no new phenomenon. Israel cries out to the Lord in Psalm 43: “Exsurge, quare obdormis Domine?” “Rouse thyself! Why sleepest thou, O Lord? Awake! Do not cast us off for ever! Why dost thou hide thy face? Why dost thou forget our affliction and oppression? For our soul is bowed down to the dust; our body cleaves to the ground. Rise up, come to our help! Deliver us for the sake of thy steadfast love!” (23-26)
 
Weekly, whilst the world sleeps, we monks repeat this cry at Matins early on Monday morning—fulfilling our duty of reminding the Lord to wake up and to get to work on time, as it were. So too, the Church sings these words as she prepares for the great fast of Lent—as shall we in two weeks’ time—in the Introit of the Mass of Sexagesima. For very good reasons the disciples in the boat, the People of Israel, the Church of God in her Divine Office and in the Mass, and we as individuals, all cry out: Save us Lord! Do not sleep! We are in danger!
 
The answer to our cry, to our anguished prayer is given to us by Our Blessed Lord in the Gospel of this Holy Mass by way of the rebuke (almost of someone at least a little irascible at having been woken up too early) addressed to us in this morning’s Holy Gospel: “Why are you afraid, O men of little faith?”
 
In response we can, of course, list several real, important and urgent reasons why we are afraid: from fear of sin or suffering or death or eternal condemnation, etc. The storms that threaten us frequently arise without warning, and some are a danger even to the most well-prepared of navigators. And the Lord’s slumber does nothing to console us. We are naturally afraid.
 
But Our Lord rebukes our lack of faith. Yes, He knows our fears and the dangers that threaten us at a natural level. Even as He seemingly sleeps He knows them only too well: He suffered and died on the cross, offering the very last drop of His Precious Blood so that we might not perish: if only we have faith in Him.
 
To the many and varied fears that we naturally have, in the face whatever dangers threaten us and which rightly frighten us, the Lord offers us the gift—the armour—of super-natural faith, equipped with which we can face down anything that the world, the flesh or the devil seeks to terrorise us. For the gift of supernatural faith enables us to see beyond the storm, even if it seems that the Lord is asleep. It enables us steadfastly to navigate the seas even when the waves beat over us. And, as countless martyrs and other saints have borne witness, supernatural faith enables us to accept suffering, ignominy and defeat in the eyes of this world with the sure hope of salvation in the next—if only we hold fast and persevere unto the end. (cf. Mt. 24:13)
 
Of course, we must open ourselves to this gift and ensure it takes root in our hearts, minds and souls. It must be nourished and renewed by the sacraments, in particular by frequent confession and the worthy reception of Holy Communion. And the gift of faith in us must bear fruit in the circumstances in which we are daily called to be its witness in the world. Faith is not a one-time-only vaccination given at Baptism. It is the seed of divine life planted in our souls that must be nurtured and grow into a reality that will endure even the worst of storms.
 
Domine, salva nos, perimus! “Save, Lord; we are perishing!” we cry. He has. He does. He will. If only we have faith in Him, if only we will pray the collect of this Mass with fervour, He shall do the rest: “O God, You Who know that our human frailty cannot stand fast against the great dangers that beset us, grant us health of mind and body, that with your help we may overcome what we suffer on account of our sins.” For His help, for the grace to persevere in faith until the end, let us beg Almighty God at His altar this morning. +

+ One of the most beautiful encounters in the Gospels is placed before us by Holy Mother Church in the Gospel of this Mass: “A leper came to him and knelt before him, saying, ‘Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.’ And he stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, ‘I will; be clean.’ And immediately his leprosy was cleansed.”
 
“If you will [it]…” the leper pleaded, kneeling. “I will [it]” Our Blessed Lord responded. “And immediately his leprosy was cleansed.”
 
The dramatic healing miracles of the Gospels often astonish us and leave us in awe. They most certainly fulfil the task of asserting quite clearly that Jesus of Nazareth, whose birth we celebrated not a month ago, is the Christ of God, the definitive incarnation of God in history. But we can be tempted to leave them there, as it were—after all, very few suffer from leprosy, and our modern mentality rapidly dismisses the possibility of miracles of healing in our day (even when they truly occur).
 
But leprosy abounds in our day, in many and various forms—in the pervading relativism that continually eats away at any assertion of objective truth; in the materialism that worships any number of calves made of gold or of anything else that money can buy; in the frenetic pursuit of political power that consumes so many and which increasingly seeks to exclude differing stances (most especially theistic ones) from participation in public discourse or even, at times, in holding a legitimate place in society.
 
These lesions even appear on the Body of Christ, the Church. Relativism, materialism, political power struggles and the exclusion of those who hold perfectly orthodox but currently politically incorrect views is only too well known and even seems to be being enthroned by the (“toxic”) process called “Synodality”.
 
We, too, disfigure the Body of Christ by complacently allowing the leprosy of sin to take root in our souls and to grow into vice that devours the life of grace in our souls. The seven deadly sins— pride, avarice, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony and sloth—are called “deadly” for good reason. They mortally disease us. They gravely wound the Body of Christ.
 
The picture—in the Church, in the world, and perhaps even in our own souls—may well be fairly bleak, if not desperate. Yet it is in these utterly distressing and dangerous circumstances that here, this morning, amidst all that burdens or oppresses us, the Holy Gospel is proclaimed with great solemnity: “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” “I will [it]”
 
For miracles do happen. They can continue to happen. They can happen today: in the Church, in the world and in the lives of monks and clergy and in the lives men and women living all manner of different vocations. This is the good news—the Gospel—of Jesus Christ announced to us anew in this Holy Mass.
 
“But how?” we ask, perhaps somewhat cynically. The leper provides the answer: by humbling ourselves and kneeling before the Lord in faith, by recognising our leprosy and begging the healing we need. Popes, prelates, priests, presidents, prime ministers and politicians of every rank, as well as private persons no matter what their circumstances—all of us!—need to fall on our knees before the Lord, to look into His loving eyes with faith, and beg of Him the healing we need.
 
It is no coincidence that traditionally we kneel at the elevation of the Sacred Host and Chalice at Mass, that we kneel to receive Holy Communion, to confess our sins in the Sacrament of Penance, and to receive other sacraments. To kneel is make an act of faith. And as Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger once wrote: “"A liturgy no longer familiar with kneeling would be sick at the core."
 
Do I need to grow in charity, in humility, in patience, in chastity, etc? Let me kneel before the Lord in the confessional and beg His healing. He will grant it, for He wills it. Does the Church and the world require radical, if not miraculous, healing from all that afflicts them? Let us beg these from the Lord with the same faith—and let us be prepared to serve as the instruments of His healing in ways, small and great, which may quite astonish us.
 
“I will [it],” He says. But we must have the faith to ask Him. And we must persevere in the asking. Then He can work miracles in us and through us.

​For the faith and the perseverance we need, let us now beg Him at His altar. +

​+ Quodqumque dixerit vobis, facite. Do whatever He tells you.
 
Through the proclamation of the Holy Gospel of this Holy Mass, the Church addresses these almost brusque words of Our Blessed Lady to the servants at the wedding feast to each one of us. No matter what our age or state in life, no matter where we are in vocational discernment or perseverance, our task is to do whatever He—Our Lord Jesus Christ, whose Incarnation and Epiphany we have celebrated in recent weeks—tells us. The question, of course, is: What is He telling us?
 
At important junctures in life, it is often wise to take time apart, on retreat in one way or another, to consider this question. Our lives can be so busy that we do not have time, as it were, to listen to His voice. The interior silence necessary to hear and understand Him is something we must cultivate daily, but most especially at times when crises arrive or important decisions need to be made. For His is the “still, small voice” that follows the wind, earthquakes and fires that rage within us and about us. (cf. 1 Kings 19:12) Our Lord will not normally shout over others: He speaks clearly and consistently to us, calling us to that further conversion of life in which we will find our salvation. If we wish to be saved, we must listen to His call—and we must do as He says.
 
Ordinarily we hear the “still, small voice” of Our Lord speaking to us in the Church’s Sacred Liturgy. By attending to and participating in the daily round of prayers, readings, hymns, etc. developed over the centuries and handed on in Tradition we open the ears of our hearts and minds, as it were, to His voice. From the Sunday Gospels and Epistles to the lessons at Matins—and everywhere in-between—the voice of the Lord speaks to us, if only we will be silent and attentive enough to listen. This is the work of the monk in his daily lectio divina, and whilst not all are called to be monks, we would all be wise to make an effort further to attend to the Lord speaking to us through the Sacred Rites of His Church by finding some time, before or after Mass, at home early in the morning or at another quiet time of the day, to revisit them and ponder their import so that we may hear His “still, small voice”.
 
In addition, we have the wisdom and teaching of the Church’s Magisterium which speaks clearly and authoritatively on matters of faith and morals, drawing upon centuries of experience and of even of clarifying controversy in making available to us the true Gospel of Jesus Christ handed on from the apostles. Through the solemn teaching of the Magisterium of the Church rendered accessible through good Catechisms the “still, small voice” of our Lord can be heard clearly and consistently.
 
Or at least that should be the case. Unfortunately, it seems that we are living in one of those periods in the history of the Church where doctrinal controversy is rearing its ugly head. Successors of the Apostles are heard questioning or denying aspects of Catholic teaching; others implement pastoral practices clearly contrary to it—scandalising the faithful and leading them into grave error. The process of what is called “synodality” seems to be becoming an end in itself which relativises truth. Instead of listening to the “still, small voice of the Lord,” this process seems to invite everyone to shout their demands at Him and to proceed with their own agenda without taking the time and effort to create the silence necessary to listen to Him and His call to the conversion of our lives, let alone to do what He says.
 
A great man—a compatriot and a friend—who died this week, decried this process as “a toxic nightmare” from which the Church must free herself. George Cardinal Pell lamented that the official literature about the Synodal Process “does not urge even the Catholic participants to make disciples of all nations (Mt 28:16-20), much less to preach the Saviour in season and out of season (2 Tim. 4:2).” Bishops, he insisted, are “not wall flowers or rubber stamps” in this process, but guarantors “of continuing fidelity to Christ’s teaching, [to] the apostolic tradition”. (cf. The Spectator, 11 Jan 2023) His prophetic voice resounds even more urgently from his grave.
 
In seeking the “still, small voice” of the Lord today, then, we must be careful. For there are those even in authority in the Church who seem to be obscuring it. St Paul’s warning to the Galatians must be borne in mind: “Even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to that which we preached to you, let him be accursed.” (Gal. 1: 8) We must be prudent and ensure that the voice to which we listen is indeed that of the Lord, who always speaks in harmony with the teaching of His Church as handed on in Tradition from the Apostles.
 
If we are prepared to do what is necessary to be attentive to His voice, and if we are then willing to do as He tells us—even when He calls us to a love of Him that involves sacrifice and that costs us a great deal—we shall come to enjoy that new wine of the Kingdom of Heaven (cf. Mt 26:29) of which we have enjoy foretaste each time we offer the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. For the graces necessary so to do, let us beg Almighty God at His altar this morning.+

A requiem Mass for the repose of the soul of His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI
will be sung in the monastery church on Saturday, 7 January at 11am.

Une messe de requiem pour le repos de l'âme de Sa Sainteté le pape Benoît XVI
sera chantée dans l'église du monastère le samedi 7 janvier à 11h.
 
Those who wish to have a candle lit in the monastery church for his intentions
for 3 hours or 9 days can do so here:
​
Ceux qui souhaitent faire allumer une bougie dans l'église du monastère à ses intentions pour trois heurs ou neufs jours peuvent le faire ici:

​Those who wish to have Masses offered for the repose of his soul should contact us. If we receive more requests that we can fulfill
– particularly for novenas and Gregorians –
they will be transferred to priests in need
​who will offer them according to the usus antiquior.
​
Ceux qui souhaitent faire offrir des messes pour le repos de son âme doivent nous contacter. Si nous recevons plus de demandes que nous pouvons satisfaire
– en particulier pour les neuvaines et les trentains –
elles seront transférées aux prêtres dans le besoin qui les offriront selon l'usus antiquior.

+ In the Martyrology sung according to tradition at Prime on Christmas eve, and more latterly before Midnight Mass, we hear that:
 
“In the 5,199th year from the creation of the world, when in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth;
In the 2,957th year from the flood;
In the 2,015th year from the birth of Abraham;
In the 1,510th year from the going forth of the people of Israel out of Egypt under Moyses;
In the 1,032nd year from the anointing of David as King;
In the  week 65th according to the prophecy of Daniel;
In the 194th Olympiad;
In the 752nd year from the foundation of the city of Rome;
In the 42nd year of the reign of the Emperor Octavian Augustus;
In the 6th age of the world;
While the whole earth was at peace, Jesus Christ, Himself Eternal God and Son of the Eternal Father, being pleased to hallow the world by His most gracious coming , having been conceived of the Holy Ghost, and when nine months were passed after His conception, was born of the Virgin at Bethlehem of Juda, made Man, our Lord Jesus Christ was born according to the flesh.”
 
In this 7,221st year since the creation of the world, as we approach the year of Our Lord 2023 we cannot, alas, boast that the whole world—or even the Church—is at peace: wars threaten the very lives of many, political disputes become ever more acrimonious and even violent, a seemingly never-ending stream of scandals scourge the Body of Christ that is His Church from its head down. We bear the scars of sin; we know our weakness only too well.
 
And yet, as fractured and dangerous as is our world, as wounded and afflicted as the Church may be, as sinful as we ourselves are—indeed, precisely because of these flaws and inadequacies—today, on this feast of Christmas in the year of Our Lord 2022, Jesus Christ, Himself Eternal God and Son of the Eternal Father, is born according to the flesh so that we may be saved from sin and eternal death and live forever.
 
All of our preparations and celebrations, all of our chants and carols, all of our ceremonies and feasting arise from this reality, No matter how terrible the situation in the Church or the world, no matter what suffering confronts us, no matter how evil we have been, today the One Unique Saviour of mankind has been born. He is Hope Incarnate. Because of His taking on of human flesh, our human flesh can become divine, imperishable and eternal.
 
The many, many beautiful liturgical texts that jubilantly resonate this reality, as well as the popular ones that have grown up from them, help us to contemplate the Incarnation of Our Saviour. They call us to immerse ourselves in all that this great feast means: by kneeling to adore God made man in a little child; by conforming our lives to all that He demands of us in our particular circumstances; by following Him even to Calvary and to the Cross with that peace which no trial or suffering can take from us—in the certainty that this is the path to life, that this is the path to salvation and to eternal life.
 
Please revisit the liturgical texts this Christmastide, particularly throughout the Octave of Christmas in the coming eight days, but also beyond—revisit them with faith, and draw great strength from them. We ought to listen to the Christ-centred hymns and carols that abound in this season with attentive ears so that the message of hope and salvation that they carry may take root in our hearts and souls, and sustain us in following the Christ-child from Bethlehem to Calvary—and beyond Calvary to life everlasting, free from sin and death!
 
As we go to the altar of Almighty God to offer this Holy Mass of Christmas, we do so ever conscious of the many relatives, friends and benefactors here present and throughout the world who have enabled us so to do, and who continue their generous support. We carry with us all their intentions and prayers. In wishing each one all the joys and graces of this most holy feast, we, the black monks of Brignoles, renew our commitment faithfully to pursue our vocation of prayer and work according to the Rule of Saint Benedict here, for the glory of Almighty God and for the salvation of souls.
 
“Lux fulgébit hódie super nos : quia natus est nobis Dóminus : et vocábitur Admirábilis, Deus, Princeps pacis, Pater futúri sǽculi : cuius regni non erit finis,” the Introit of the second Mass of Christmas sings. May the light that shines upon us on this day on which our Saviour is born enlighten our hearts and minds that we may each clearly see and persevere in walking along that path which leads to His Kingdom, of which there shall be no end. +

+ “Prepare the way of the Lord, make His paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be brought low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways shall be made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
 
With these words of St Luke, the Church succinctly recalls to us the basic realities of Advent—indeed, the basic realities of the Christian call to that conversion of life whereby we, in our fleshly, earthly existence, are come to experience and fruitfully to live from the salvation of God made possible through the Incarnation of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Amidst they busyness of these final days of Advent, they provide us with a great deal upon which to ponder and contemplate. Crooked paths must be made straight. Valleys and hills must be levelled. Rough ways must be made smooth. The way must be prepared so that the Lord may come without any difficulty or obstacle.
 
This is indeed the work of the conversion of life that we must each embrace.
 
At certain points in our life, particularly when we are young and the passions can reign unbridled (indeed encouraged by all that is about us in the world or that almost seeks us out through technology) this conversion may require decisive, if not seemingly dramatic steps. We must turn away from a crooked life of sin and begin to walk the straight path that leads to the salvation of God. We must make the choice so do to, and we must make that choice without delay.
 
There also comes that moment in life when, in order to embrace my vocation—be that to married or other lay vocations, monastic, religious or clerical life—I must sacrifice even legitimate pleasures in order to follow the disciplined path Our Lord has prepared for me from all eternity. This conversion, from what is acceptable to what is truly good, can in some ways be more difficult, as it is all too easy to hide from God’s call in familiar and comfortable circumstances.
 
So too, at different moments in our life when we come to recognise that we have made and lived according to the choices that are sinful, we must make the rough ways smooth again—beginning now!—so that the Lord may come to us unimpeded and bring us His salvation, without which we are all lost forever.
 
It may even be that, in our increasingly secularised world, we have lived without being aware of the necessity of God’s salvation; in which case, upon realising its reality, we have much work to do in preparing our hearts and minds so that they may rejoice in it and walk in His ways.
 
And it may be that, as we grow older, with the burdens and particular sufferings that entails, we encounter new temptations and find ourselves in dark valleys where the light of faith seems to be dimmed. By our perseverance in hope we must fill these valleys, so that the Lord can come to us also at this most important time of life.
 
No matter what our circumstances, indeed no matter how much sin our past or present entails, the Church calls us today to that conversion of life that is necessary so as to know God’s salvation. There is no place here, or anywhere in the Gospel, for that prurient, pharasaical, puritanical mumuring that so often trades in whispered calumnies and anonymous detractions. No, in the Gospel there is simply the clarion call to prepare the way for the Lord—today, in your life and in mine—so that His salvation may come to us, and through us, through our renewed and purified living of our vocation to holiness, that it may reach others also.
 
Indeed, St Gregory the Great taught us at matins this morning that: “the conscience of each [person] is bound to acquire through penance so much the greater riches of good works the more serious the losses it has brought upon itself through its own fault.” Have I sinned? Then I must repent, confess, and do penance. I must work assiduously to repair the damage I have done by building up the Kingdom of God through faithful and fruitful perseverance in my vocation—be that in the world, in the family, in a parish, a diocese, a convent or even a monastery.  
 
“Prepare the way of the Lord, make His paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be brought low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways shall be made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
 
In these rich last days of Advent let the message of these uncompromising words motivate us to do all that which is necessary, so that we can know and see the salvation of God ever more fruitfully and clearly in the coming feast. For the humility and the resolution to do that which is necessary, let us beg Almighty God at His altar this morning. +