The Anchoress

Photo shamelessly cribbed from Deacon Greg

To all my regular readers, visitors, lurkers, friends, unknown well-wishers and worthy opponents - I wish you a new year brimming with all good things, most particularly the gifts of love, friendship, good health, opportunity and quiet. I offer a prayer for your good, and for our president’s, our government’s and the world’s, and another for our troops in harm’s way and those they seek to protect, here and abroad. Thanks to them, the new year for Iraqis looks better than it has in decades.

I offer a bit of scripture for tomorrow, from the yesterday of Jeremiah:

For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare, not for woe! plans to give you a future full of hope. When you call me, when you go to pray to me, I will listen to you. When you look for me, you will find me. Yes, when you seek me with all your heart, you will find me with you, says the LORD, and I will change your lot; I will gather you together from all the nations and all the places to which I have banished you, says the LORD, and bring you back to the place from which I have exiled you.

If you’re thinking of making New Year’s Resolutions, well, I’m printing out this Daily Decalogue of Pope John XXIII, which looks to be challenging enough, and keeping it on the desk where I might actually read it and try to live it, some days. (H/T Patrick).

And a few words from Deacon Greg and his New Year’s Day Homily:

Mary, meantime, absorbs this, and makes of it a kind of prayer – keeping all these things, and in Luke’s beautiful words, “reflecting on them in her heart.”

It’s customary on this day to draw up resolutions – to make promises to ourselves and to others that probably won’t last until February, if they even make it to the end of this week. We resolve to lose weight or stop smoking or exercise. What it really means is that we resolve to improve the profit margins of Jenny Craig or Lucille Roberts.

Good luck with that.

But this January first, I would challenge you to make a different kind of resolution.

Resolve to learn something from the woman we honor today.

Resolve to dwell in possibility. Resolve to see every day, not just this one, as a fresh beginning. Resolve to welcome every blank page, every new start, with trust that God will see you through it – and then reflect on it in your heart. Just like Mary did.

Today we celebrate Mary the Mother of God – Mary the mother of our salvation. Mary, the one who gave birth to a new beginning.

Resolve to embrace what she represents. Resolve to count every day – and to make every day count.

Because “Today is where your book begins. The rest is still unwritten.”

How will you fill the pages of your book?

Safe New Year to all!

Sister Grace Helena begins her new year with a bang. What a pretty wedding cake!

Had a funny email from a regular correspondent (non-Catholic) who worries that if the Vatican is in fact training more exorcists, does it mean anything worrisome (or suspicious) either for the church or the world, and isn’t all this “fighting the devil head-on talk” kind of misplaced in the 21st Century?

Well. I’m certainly no expert, and who knows what Rome is really doing and not doing - people love to wonder about these “spooky” and rather dramatic ideas; we never quite get over our love of ghost stories and spine-tingling urban myths (my favorite is the one where the guy runs out of gas, tells the g/f to stay locked in the car and she hears thumping, but obediently stays in the car, until the police come and capture the maniac on the roof who has been thumping the car with her date’s head) and it is always very easy to equate superstition with what is truly supernatural, blurring all sorts of lines.

So now, it’s “ooooohhhhh, scary Benedict is training lots of exorcists - what does it all mean?”

In truth, it might not mean anything at all. My understanding is that each bishop always has the discretion to - if he so chooses - appoint a priest - one priest - that the bishop believes is holy, psychologically strong and faithful, to become the “Diocesan Exorcist” - the go-to guy when things go weird and closer examination - or more - is needed. The identity of the exorcist is usually kept rather close to the bishop’s vest, and the exorcist is supposed to be discreet, also. Perhaps this “big story” coming out of Rome is nothing more than Benedict saying, “hey, we’ve rather let the exorcist numbers dwindle, let’s encourage the bishops to make sure they have a trained guy on their team.”

If you accept that the supernatural exists, and you accept that there are things seen and unseen, then your common sense tells you that within that realm there will be that which is profoundly holy, and that which is quite the opposite. There is nothing unusual in any of that.

These things are true; there are exorcists in the church. Why that should be cause for alarm, I am not sure. Always, where there is great holiness, there is evil in close proximity. Recall the Lord hung between thieves, and was betrayed by his own. Always, within the church the human element can both serve and distress the Holy Spirit. That’s just the way it is, and hand-wringing or adopting a polite fiction about perfect holiness doesn’t really help anything. Nor does whispering together in the corners, wondering what “it all means,” so, stop it.

A church is like any other institution - it needs administering to; reserves that have dwindled must be built up, all must be kept in readiness for any eventuality, and that is the job of a good administrator who is also a good pastor. As Christian’s our job is simply to keep our eyes on Jesus only, and to live in a way that is pleasing to Him - which, by the way, no matter how well we think we do…we don’t do well enough.

Of the rest of it - both worldy and other-worldly - Christ has said “it’s being seen to…” that would be yer Sermon on the Mount. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. I’m content to leave it in His hands, and in the hands of his apostolic servants - as lacking and imperfect as every one of them may be - and I pray that you and I will ever need to know more about it than we already do.

Nothing is static, everything is always in flux. Global temperatures go up and they go down. Famines, droughts and epidemics come and they go. Health and illness come and go. Humanity opens and closes itself to things of the spirit. Time is a construct, and a great deal of what you see is illusion, anyway.

Psalm 90(89) (Domine, refugium)

O Lord, you have been our refuge
from one generation to the next.
Before the mountains were born
or the earth or the world brought forth,
you are God, without beginning or end.

You turn men back to dust
and say: “Go back, sons of men.”
To your eyes a thousand years
are like yesterday, come and gone,
no more than a watch in the night.

You sweep men away like a dream,
like the grass which springs up in the morning.
In the morning it springs up and flowers:
by evening it withers and fades.

So we are destroyed in your anger,
struck with terror in your fury.
Our guilt lies open before you;
our secrets in the light of your face.

All our days pass away in your anger.
Our life is over like a sigh.
Our span is seventy years,
or eighty for those who are strong.

And most of these are emptiness and pain.
They pass swiftly and we are gone.
[…]
Make us know the shortness of our life
that we may gain wisdom of heart.

Don’t worry about this stuff. Sufficient unto the day…

Meanwhile, here’s something you don’t see every day.

I don’t blame Chelsea Clinton for not wanting to talk to this child reporter. Answer one question from a kid, and soon all the reporters will be insisting on a turn. And the kids can be pretty observant.

The right notes for me, anyway. Fred Thompson is clearly in no mood to play the games that have overtaken US political campaigns, and he’s intent on holding the press - and maybe all of us - to a higher standard than we’ve become used to.

Today I had this story written about me regarding what I said at a Town Hall event in Burlington, Iowa by a reporter who wasn’t even at the event. Incidentally, I declined to be interviewed by this particular reporter yesterday for reasons which will soon be apparent.

In referring to me, she reported “he doesn’t like modern campaigning, isn’t interested in running for President, and will not be devastated” if he doesn’t win.

Below is a transcript of what I actually said in response to a question by a local Burlington resident which was the basis of the reporter’s story.

It is clear that there are those in the media who will exact a high price for candor and from those whom they consider to be insufficiently ambitious. But it is with increasing amazement that we see that those who are willing to slant or leave out important parts of a story to make their point.

If a candidate succumbs to this he will be reduced to nothing more than a sound bite machine.

As for me I am going to continue to say exactly what is in my heart and is on my mind and give straight and honest answers to those who ask straight and honest questions.

Incidentally, the audience in Burlington broke into applause in the middle of my answer. The reporter wouldn’t know that because she wasn’t even there.

Read the rest. It’s a start. And quite frankly - his answer is very refreshing. I think it is in the country’s interest to seek out a president who is not consumed by personal ambitions. Particularly now.

Meanwhile, like Ed Morrissey, I’m also glad to see Rudy Giuliani keeping it gentlemanly. Gentleman-like behavior counts, no matter what the gender.

Over the holidays the WaPo had a great feature story on a cloistered community of Carmelite Nuns who - much like Carthusians - eat and pray together but live in their own hermitages.

These Carmelites - some of whom appear in Lili Almog’s Perfect Intimacy, are located in Port Tobacco, Maryland, and the women choosing this life are hardy and accomplished:

The sisters live in a fenced-in area within the complex. They often work alone in their small, one-story individual hermitages, which contain a bedroom, bathroom, workroom and back porch. They work as artists and seamstresses. One is a weaver. They make crafts for their gift shop, which has no clerk and runs on the honor system, and they also do clerical work to help support themselves.

The nuns gather as a group to eat and pray and rarely venture beyond the fence, let alone the compound. The goal is separation from the outside world.
[…]
“It’s wholly symbolic, our separation from the world,” said Mother Virginia [age 73], who was Jane O’Connor of Tulsa before she joined the Carmelite order at age 17. “We’ve chosen this. We’re not in prison.”

The aim “is to do more intently what we have chosen to do,” she said in an interview last week. “So that we don’t have distractions. So we can pray better. So that we can concentrate on the Lord.
[…]
The nuns come from many walks of life. One had been a Washington lawyer, Mother Virginia said. Another worked as a physical therapist, another a federal government employee.

The Dominican Nuns of Summit, N.J. have seen a dramatic uptick in inquiries to their house, and their novitiate is growing at a healthy clip.

Anyone who has any acquaintance with monastics knows that the men and women who live within them are resourceful, creative and intelligent. Sr. Catherine posts at their blog of another remarkably gifted young woman - this time from Australia - is seeking admission to their house, but there is a hitch:

Most certainly, Mariam, age 27, from Australia, currently holds the distinction of being our “farthest” long-distance discerner. She has been corresponding with our novice mistress since 2004.

Orphaned at an early age, Mariam was raised by her grandmother in the Jewish faith. While in college, Mariam converted to the Catholic faith. She is fluent in German, Arabic and Chinese, and for several years taught English to students in China.

While sharing in the hardships of Chinese Catholics in practicing her newfound faith, Mariam’s love for Our Lord deepened as did her attraction to a more radical expression of responding to that love…as a contemplative nun. Her spiritual director, a Dominican friar from Australia, recommended she contact our monastery. That was over three years ago, and, now Mariam is back in Australia, and with the encouragement of her director, she has asked to come for a period of several months’ discernment with our community.

The major (and only) obstacle to Mariam’s aspirancy is the cost of traveling to the States. The round trip airline ticket is $2,700 Australian dollars. Several generous people have donated $1200 toward the plane fare so far so we are almost halfway to the goal! Can you help with the rest needed?

They have a donation button at the bottom of their post.

The world needs places and people like these - houses of prayer and faith. Bless all who pray, say I, but especially those who do it when the rest of us can’t or won’t - praying with us and for us - hidden, unappreciated and unwavering. And protect their houses, whatever the faith.

Also, here four Sisters of St. John recieve the habit here - this is a French house, but I believe there are two growing ones in Texas and Illinois

Sorry for disappearing. The “work” of Christmas and visitors etc…you understand…will be back tomorrow.

View here:

CBS’s Dick Meyer took his 13 year old son to a football game, and the public behavior he witnessed there so appalled him that he has ranted about it - brilliantly - in this WaPo column.

I suppose depravity is a strong word. But what better describes drunken adult men, egged on by other grown beer-swillers, belly-shouting the most spectacular obscenities imaginable as they stand next to a 13-year-old boy? Every play was a competition to produce a more vile insult or a different suggestion about which Bear body part might be stuffed up which orifice. When the Redskins scored their first touchdown, four young women — I’m guessing they were in high school — turned around and did a little stripper’s dance that made my son blush as I cringed. Even putting aside their ages, it was too cold to bare flesh.

Within 10 minutes of kickoff, I knew I had made a terrible mistake taking my son to the game.

Read the whole thing. I bet you’ll agree with it. And if you’re fighting about politics over the Christmas dinner, haul this piece out - it will be “common ground” for all!

If you’re looking for some great stuff to put on the DVD player while you’re wrapping and decorating, or just enjoying a mug of hot chocolate, Dirty Harry has a terrific list, WITH appreciative quickie reviews. I agree with most of the films and the ratings (although I am a forever fan of A Christmas Carol with Alastair Sims). Check it out - excellent work.

So, I had a doctor’s appointment this morning - or I thought I did. I made it to the 11AM appointment to discover that it was really a 1PM appointment, and it was for tomorrow…not today.

Since I was out, I decided to stop by the nail place and get them done - my big extravagance in life, and I don’t even keep them long, I just like them neat. The place I go to is a clean, quiet shop run by a large family of immigrants. Most of them speak some English, a few speak very good English, and they are lovely, soft-spoken and sweet people who make you feel very welcome. Accordingly, their shop is getting very busy, and the days of my just “popping in” without an appointment may soon come to an end, but I don’t mind. They’re wonderful and very hard-working; they take a lot of pride in their shop and their work and deserve all their success.

One of the reasons I like to go there - aside from all the rest - is because I am not a “chatty” person. If I can be quiet and not feel like I’m making someone uncomfortable with it, that’s a plus in my book, and in this shop, I can. But today I was looking all around, at the spare but lovely decorations, appreciating the very Chinese artwork and the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, the small American flag at the desk. It was very clear to me that this family - all of whom use “Americanized” names for business - is proud of and connected to their culture, and yet also enthusiastic about being here, and I got chatty.

“Can I ask, why here? Why did you come to America?”

As it turned out, the fellow helping me did not speak much English. He turned to his cousin, the receptionist, for translation, and I asked again.

“More freedom,” she said immediately, without first translating. “America has freedom.”

“Opportunity,” said the girl at the next workspace. “We can have small business and grow it and make bigger business. We can be anything.”

By then the receptionist had translated to her cousin and he had responded. He smiled hugely at me while she told me what he had said.

“America is a great country where we can use all our energy, all our knowledge, all our creativity. There is freedom.”

“Opportunity,” the other girl repeated. “Anyone can be anything, do anything in America.”

“Yes,” said the receptionist, who is pregnant. “My son can be president, if he wants.”

It moved me. I was very moved and thought about how we who are born here sometimes forget. And I was proud. I thought back about 80 years ago, to when my father’s people were coming over from Europe, to Ellis Island and thence to Brooklyn. Plasterers. Floor-layers. Car mechanics. Street musicians. They worked hard, too. Some of them owned businesses; some of them started unions and stood outside those same businesses…but they were all quick to become “Americans,” - they told Mama not to speak to them in Italian (and regretted it later); they Americanized their names to enter the marketplace. They were all working with the country, for the good of the country, and each had their place in the scheme of things. The men all served in the military, in WWII and after. And they all dared to dream and to grab hold of the promise of America, and to not let go.

It’s wonderful.

It’s wonderous.