Memorare

Imagine a stark, coastal plain dotted with a few sturdy, modest, thatched cottages. Smoke rises from them and is born away by a ceaseless, whipping wind. Sliced fish hangs drying. Two aging women - sisters - carry food they have prepared from cottage to cottage; the single, dutiful daughters of a Protestant prophet - a little feared by his flock in his day. You sense a dryness, an aridity, and barrenness. "This won't last long," springs to your mind.

Now, imagine a different people living nearly on the doorsteps of the aging, decrepit population of this coastal village. They speak a wholly different language, live by a different set of norms and mores; their children range from teenagers to children too young to walk in plenty. They walk among the cottages of the original occupants, but do not mingle or interact, except to enter the general store or tiny post office.

Think Babette's Feast only with a growing settlement of adherents to the ways of the Scimitar.

Karen Blixen (Isak Dinesen) would have a chef come to the rugged outpost village; one who would bring the savor of a rhapsody of meal time delights, a scene of reconciliation, and restoration of truth, goodness, and beauty.

What shall bring this about in the dying and barren scene that we call Europe and the West?

Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thine intercession was left unaided.
Inspired by this confidence, I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, my mother; to thee do I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me. Amen.