The great feast of the Epiphany has passed without so much as a burble from any of us, but the truth is we are going through an intensely domestic period. The dining room and utility room are half repainted, but she who wields the paintrbrush has had to retire temporarily from the fray since she bent down to lift something and now finds she cannot straighten herself. The Divine Office is therefore sung in a state of semi-prostration, not exactly ex devoto. The downstairs bathroom has some iced-up pipes and there has been much scratching of heads and pulling at wimples in an effort to work out the best way of thawing them gently. Last night it registered -12° in the greenhouse, which means the lovingly-grown collection of orange and lemon trees which give our "breakfast terrace" a mediterranean air in summer has probably perished, and the terracotta pots with them. However, the snow looks beautiful in the starlight, and the ice inside the window panes looks magical, provided one wraps oneself up properly before viewing it. The dog can't wait to get outside and play and is all tail-wagging enthusiasm at the prospect. Gloom? That's something we just don't do at Hendred. Unless, of course, one happens to be a lemon (see above).

January is, literally, the door into the New Year when, like the ancient god Janus, we look both ways. How fitting, then, that the Church should celebrate the Solemnity of Mary the Mother of God on this day. She is the hinge between the Old and New Testaments, the portal through which Christ enters the world and all is made new. Today is the Church's oldest Marian feast, one which recalls her greatest title. "Mary, the all-holy ever-virgin Mother of God, is the masterwork of the mission of the Son and the Spirit in the fullness of time. For the first time in the plan of salvation and because his Spirit had prepared her, the Father found the dwelling place where his Son and his Spirit could dwell among men. In this sense the Church's Tradition has often read the most beautiful texts on wisdom in relation to Mary. Mary is acclaimed and represented in the liturgy as the 'Seat of Wisdom.'" — Catechism of the Catholic Church 721. Since 1967 today has also been designated World Day of Peace. We surely need our Lady's prayers for that.

Are bloggers just monkeys with typewriters, destroying the precious remnants of western culture with their self-indulgent ramblings? Leaving aside the question of how far the internet can be described as an integral part of contemporary culture, it is interesting that monastic bloggers seem to be increasing in number. Sadly, none of us here has time to read anyone else's outpourings so we'll have to continue "monkeying around" in 2009 in the hope that we may say something useful to someone, eventually. In the meantime, what are our community hopes for the coming year? Top of the list must come the desire that we, our oblates and associates, may all grow in holiness. Then, it would be great if we could draw more people to know and love the Lord through sharing our monastic life and through the ripple effects of some of the works we undertake. There will be at least one important announcement about these early in the coming year. As to this web site, it is due a major overhaul, but there is some time-consuming house maintenance to be done first; then there is a guest room to make in the soon-to-be-vacated parish office. It will all take time. Fortunately, God made plenty of that.

As the year nears its close, who can fail to be troubled by the violence convulsing so much of the world? René Girard, in Violence and the Sacred, makes the chilling point that "When unappeased, violence seeks and always finds a surrogate victim. The creature that excited its hostility is abruptly replaced by another, chosen only because it is vulnerable and close at hand." Vulnerable and close at hand: that fits just about every victim, from the abused child to the abused adult (male or female, young or old). It is sickeningly true of what is happening in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Darfur, Gaza, Tibet, wherever violence is being used to attain a political end, and it is the weakest and most defenceless who must pay the price. Currently the west is feeling queasy about the action Israel is taking against the Palestinians, and rightly so. No one condones the lobbing of missiles into Israel, but the use of sophisticated modern weaponry is exacting a hideous revenge on the Palestinian people and will solve nothing. I wish every politician would read René Girard whose reflections on the nature of violence and the way in which to stop passing the poison on seem to me so apposite. Perhaps it is no accident that this great thinker was born on Christmas Day, when the angels sang of peace on earth to those of goodwill. Let us pray that in 2009 we may hear the angels' song amid the din of our conflicting desires.

Our Christmas Eve post seems absurdly ambitious in the light of all that has happened in the last few days, but we did not know what was in store for us, any more than the young Thomas Becket. Ah well, it is the start of another working week for most people so, passing over our domestic trivia, let's spend a moment or two thinking about St Thomas of Canterbury. My own ideas about him are a strange jumble of David Knowles, T. S. Eliot and the stained glass depicting his life at Sens and at Canterbury itself (see illustration above). Thomas was endowed with spectacular gifts and expected to have a brilliant career. His friendship with Henry II assured him a position he could exploit for his own benefit, but the strange thing is that once he became archbishop of Canterbury, he changed dramatically, adopting a highly disciplined lifestyle and arguing with the king over the rights and responsibilities of the Church. Was it a true conversion, or was it an act, as good bishops like Gilbert Foliot obviously thought it was? At this distance of time, who can judge? Thomas continues to fascinate; there can be no doubt that his death was heroic and, in the best sense, sacrificial. He is an inspiration when difficult decisions have to be made, when conscientiously held opinions bring us into conflict with the powerful. Even his opponents remarked two qualities in him that were hardly accidental: he was chaste and he was moderate in his use of the good things that came his way. More than that, he was a leader who cared more about those he led than about himself. St Thomas is already the patron of parish clergy in England. Might he not also be a good patron for employers and managers in a recession?