Anyone wondering what the former cardinal archbishop of Boston is up to these days can find the answer in the pages of this week’s National Catholic Reporter, courtesy John Allen:

Five years after the most tumultuous fall from grace in the history of American Catholicism, Cardinal Bernard Law seems to have achieved something in Rome few might have thought possible Dec. 13, 2002: a degree of normality.

Gone are the days when Law’s every syllable was scrutinized on the front pages of American newspapers, when scrums of television cameras tracked him morning, noon and night. Some 4,000 miles from the eye of the storm, Law has become an accepted and largely unremarkable figure in the Eternal City, influential in certain ways, but no one’s idea of a power broker.

Gone, too, are the days when he had easy access to the corridors of secular power. Those who watched Law in action still swap stories, for example, about the time Law dropped in unannounced on then-House Speaker Dennis Hastert to harangue him about debt relief for impoverished nations. A jogging suit-clad Hastert arrived out of breath, but already briefed about a conversation Law had with then-Majority Leader Dick Armey a half-hour before, in which Law said he wouldn’t threaten, “It ain’t over until the fat lady sings,” since that would be sexist, but “until the thin guy dances.”

Another time, Law interceded with the Bush administration in favor of a multimillion dollar tax credit for the poor. When Karl Rove, the president’s chief political adviser, phoned Law to tell him he’d won, Rove joked it was the “most expensive phone call” he’d ever made. According to a former aide, Law had the perfect deadpan reply: “C’mon, Karl,” Law reportedly said. “You talk to defense contractors all the time.”

Those days of breathing rarified air ended in January 2002 when Suffolk County Superior Court Judge Constance Sweeney ordered the release of thousands of pages of previously secret diocesan documents, revealing the dimensions of crimes committed and concealed and sparking a revolution in Boston.

Though the enormity of the crisis for which he became the living symbol has hardly been forgotten, recent days in Rome have even brought flashes of the old Law.

On Nov. 27, for example, Law hosted new Cardinal Daniel DiNardo for Mass in the Basilica of St. Mary Major along with hundreds of pilgrims from Houston. Welcoming the group, Law asked that “We have in our hearts in a special way what’s going on across the ocean today in Annapolis, and pray with the Holy Father for success in this effort for peace in the Middle East.” It was a vintage touch for the man who once served as chair of the U.S. bishops’ Committee on International Policy.

On Dec. 1, Law led another rite in St. Mary Major, this one private, in which former Episcopal Bishop Jeffrey Steenson of New Mexico and Texas was received into the Catholic church, a potential turning point in the crisis gripping the worldwide Anglican Communion. That, too, offers a flashback to Law’s role as head of the office for ecumenism at the U.S. bishops’ conference, and later as an architect of the “Pastoral Provision” allowing married Episcopal ministers to enter the Catholic church and be ordained priests. Steenson, expected to be ordained a priest, came to know Law in those roles and personally requested that Law receive him.

These moments, however, seem largely remembrances of things past, hinting less at rehabilitation than a reminder of the peaks from which Law has fallen. While Law today remains a voting member of eight Vatican offices — including all three responsible for the appointment of bishops — no one numbers him among the most influential princes of the church, such as Italian Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, Vatican secretary of state, or American Cardinal William Levada, who replaced Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger as prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith when Ratzinger was elected Pope Benedict XVI. Rather, he’s part of a larger circle of cardinals who have some voice, but who generally fade into the ecclesiastical woodwork.

Those closest to Law say he’s largely at peace with his reduced circumstances. According to one friend who has known Law since his student days at Harvard in the 1950s, Law has accepted that he will never return to the States. “He told me that he plans to be buried in the crypt of St. Mary Major,” the friend said.

There’s much more about Law’s life since his resignation from Boston at the National Catholic Reporter link. It’s a fascinating update.