Happy New Year to all

Nothing profound is forthcoming tonight (or, I should say) this morning. I'm all alone with Mirielle (my cat), having just had a nice drink and said the Night Office, watching my small but beautiful little Christmas tree, reminding myself that I'm embracing the world with love through the prayer even if I have no one with whom to celebrate this year.

Some of you may notice that I posted a new link on the blog site - that of a booklet with prayers for peace from the 12 major world religions (it dates to the conference in Assisi, nearly 20 years ago.) Lord knows that war has always been a fact of human history - I wonder if the last sounds on this earth will be those of battle, and this alone can make me weep. Yet we also need to pray for peace in a greater sense - peace with others, peace within ourselves, petition that our own violence and greed (though normally nothing on a par with Hiroshima in impact) do not hide the image of God in us.

I loathe New Year's resolutions, as I've made plain elsewhere - they tend to be very self-absorbed, not to mention ways to transform oneself into a total bore. Yet to the serious seekers who may read this blog, I shall leave one thought (other than 'repent,' because we never like that one much, do we.) :) "Self-denial" can be a path to misery - and more for that which its practitioners tend to inflict on others than the effect on oneself, since smugness can sustain us. Religious practise, asceticism, the sacrifice that is a part of any dedicated life, should not have shades of self-hatred, punishment, misery, or guilt for enjoying the goods of creation. It should remove distractions to union with God and love of neighbour, not create new ones.

I am sure that most of us have had times when, even if we are lifelong believers and sincere in Christian commitment, we can become discouraged, bitter, tired of it all. I indeed have experienced this. When this led me into a period of total frustration and weakness, what sustained me was fostering a spirit of gratitude. I'm trying to practise this most difficult virtue once again, knowing that it has a way of fostering peace and love within us - so, I share it with my readers.

...now, get me another gin... Happy New Year, my friends, and pray for me that this little holiday I'm allowing myself till Twelfth Night refreshes my mind so my studies and writing can improve. I am much stronger than I was a few years ago, but still am frustrated that I have not recovered my quickness. There is much I wish to share - and my language ability is still hampered - so, for now, I leave you with knowing that good wishes and prayers are with everyone who reads this blog.

Now, lest I end on a discouraging note, I shall leave you with a funny (and, as always, true) story. When I was a child, the 1st of January was the Feast of the Circumcision. The nun from whom I first learnt this, when I was aged 6 or 7, cryptically mentioned that the Circumcision was 'the first time Jesus shed his blood for us.' I naturally was puzzled, and then as now was someone who tends to asks questions even when it is clear that the person I am asking wishes to evade the issue. So, when I asked what 'circumcision' was, I received the odd answer 'ask your mother.' (In those days, nuns from Cork were not likely to refer to certain unmentionable body parts, especially when such were perceived as the source of much sin in humanity. It is fortunate that the 'sinful' part was not mentioned, or I - then as now one who thought James' letter was spot on - would have thought Jesus' tongue had been cut out.)

By the age of 7, I, a fairly sophisticated child, would not have been inclined to consult my mother on matters theological, but there are times when one has no choice. Mum was southern Italian, and had none of the reticence of southern Ireland, but was a champion hypochondriac, a state which would influence her answers on just about anything. (Mum was fortunate to be of an era and class where people had nothing to do with doctors if they could help it, and when such business as 'support groups,' online information, self-help books, and 'preventative care' were decades in the future. Had she been born in a later time, she'd have been dead at 40, but I digress...) Though she did tell me what circumcision was, she explained that it meant 'cutting off a piece of his penis so there would not be any infections.'

I suppose that was my first impetus to read the works of great theologians (though I wonder what Augustine would have made of that one....) I was left with a very puzzling picture of the Church's placing a feast on the calendar to commemorate that Jesus was prevented from having penile infections.