Mary van Balen — Page 20

March 24, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Ordinary Grace

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

I had a marvelous friend who was a great artist, Marvin Triguba. Once, when I marveled at the way he captured light in his paintings, he said, “That’s how I see, and I paint what I see.” He wondered aloud, “doesn’t everyone see light that way?”

No, I would have to say. Not in such a conscious way. Of course, light creates shadows and bright spaces. It gives form and definition to what we see. It entered Marvin’s eyes as it did mine, but what his brain did with that raw material was astounding. Me? Sometimes I recognize the ordinary grace that comes with light.

I thought of Marvin a couple of days ago when I looked into the dining room and was stunned by the beauty of morning light playing across the hardwood floors. Some of the boards seemed all light. Others, darker in hue, glowed. I allowed the beauty of that moment to enter not only my eyes and brain, but also my soul.

This morning, when I turned into the living room from the hall, my eyes were bathed in bright light filtering through half-opened mini-blinds and green leaves in a variety of shapes and shades. I drew a quick breath and moved toward the window, putting myself in a place where the light would bathe me, too. Grace.

Isn’t that prayer? Intentionally putting ourselves into a soul space that is open to receive the Holy pouring into it? Longing for Presence as my plants, and my soul, longed for light this morning?

Artist God, who floods the world in Glory, enter my heart. Flood my soul with light that shows not only bright places there, but also shadow places. Open my inner eye to see the beauty of myself as you have made me. The beauty of creation. I give thanks for the artists, like Marvin, that you have given to the world. Their vision and work remind us of the Grace of light.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: creation, grace, Grace in the Moment, light, Marvin Triguba, prayer, Presence

March 19, 2014 By Mary van Balen 1 Comment

Snowdrops

I saw snowdrops today, spread with abandon across a friend’s yard. Flowers! Spring, rumored to be coming soon, is on the way. After this relentless winter, flowers atop green stems are a welcome sight. Forsythia has not yet bloomed, so, according to my grandmother, we have at least three more snows to go, but I don’t mind. Today’s snowdrops were a seal on the promise of warmer days ahead. “Have a little faith,” they seemed to say. “Remember other years. Spring always comes.”

Of course it has. Millennium after millennium spring has followed winter. We all know that. But sometimes, in the midst of cold and biting winds, we allow ourselves to wonder, perhaps not if spring will come, but when. We grow tired of waiting. A warm day here and there in the past few weeks has been a tease and makes the cold even colder.

“It’s not below zero,” my daughter said a couple of days ago. “We’ve had days much colder than this. Why does it feel SO bitterly cold today?”

Perhaps it has to do with expectation. With having had a taste. A glimpse. The sun is out. The day before saw the temperature reach 50, and we mistook the moment for an announcement that winter was over.

I think of the three who went with Jesus up the high mountain and saw him transfigured before their eyes. There was their friend, their teacher, in all his glory. Peter was ready to build tents, ready to stay. “The wait is over,” he may have said to himself. “No more parables and hardships, and mystery or trying to figure out what Jesus is saying.” The struggles and dilemmas were coming to an end. The good times had arrived and he, for one, would be happy to settle in and enjoy.

Alas, not so. It was a glimpse, and then it was gone. There were more roads to walk. More mystery to embrace. More suffering. I wonder if, during those long days between Jesus’ death and resurrection, if Peter remembered how Jesus looked that day. If he had, would it have given him hope? Or maybe the days were so dark that he could not remember the glory he saw or trust that it could not be snuffed out even by death. Maybe having seen Jesus’ glorified self made the experience of those three days more bitter. Peter had seen what could have been but was no longer.

Like experiencing spring following winter year after year, we have the advantage of knowing that resurrection followed Jesus’ death. Yet, in the midst of our own spiritual winters or the groaning of our world struggling with countless injustice and atrocities, we can forget. “Where is God?” we wonder and perhaps doubt the Holy One is still around.

Our lives seem impossible, too difficult, too complicated, too messed up, to be good again.

Today’s snowdrops remind me that the glimpse of glory does not lie. God is present. Resurrection follows death. The wind will not always feel so bitterly cold.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: death, grace, hope, promise, resurrection, snowdrops, spring

March 6, 2014 By Mary van Balen 2 Comments

Lent: Winter, Flowers, and Pete Seeger

retreat bouquet from daughters Originally published in The Catholic Times, March 9, 2014 issue

A lover of winter, even I am ready for spring this year. Snow, ice, and frigid temperatures just keep coming. And coming. As I arranged a small “prayer table” in my dining area, I decided to add flowers. Some years I have placed small branches in a vase or a container of stones and bulbs, forcing them to sprout and bloom by the end of Lent. This year, I am starting with blooms. I’m not feeling particularly “spiritual.” I need a reminder that even in the midst of winter, spiritual as well as physical, God’s love is present.

Besides flowers, the space holds a book of Scripture readings, a Tibetan singing bowl to call me to prayer, a small, bronze cross, and some bits of nature gathered or given by friends. A candle sits atop a tall wrought iron stand fashioned for me by my daughter many years ago. For some reason, this year I think I will need all these sacramental objects to keep me focused and hopeful.

It’s not just winter weather that has made my spirit weary. Life has been busy with writing projects, healing, and work. News of world conflicts, genocide, drought and famine, while not unique to this moment, weighs particularly heavy on my heart. Closer to home, political rancor and intolerance continue to grab headlines. Our world needs hope. It needs Easter.

Winter has not been without moments of beauty and grace. One was a sing-along gathering people from around the city to remember and honor Pete Seeger who died at the end of January, ninety-four years young. Parking a few blocks away from the Mennonite church where it was held, I joined others walking in the street to avoid icy, unshoveled sidewalks. The space was packed. Led by a trio on guitar, banjo, and bass, we raised our voices (in harmony, no less), singing the old songs. It felt good. The day Pete Seeger died, I took my guitar out from under my bed and played for a couple of hours, wondering why I didn’t do that much anymore. Singing and playing are prayer for me, much like writing.

“This Lent, I’ll sing more,” I told myself.

Pete Seeger used to say that we shouldn’t wish for a great leader. Instead, we should hope for lots and lots of good leaders who work hard right where they are. Think globally. Act locally. It will be participation that saves the world, he’d say.

Lent is like that for me, this year. I’m trying to nurture the awareness of being part of something much bigger than myself, bigger than my little world of home and work, family and friends. Jesus gave us the big picture, the call the help in bringing the kingdom. But he calls us to
“act locally.” He didn’t ask his followers to become national figures or world leaders. He called them to love one another. To respect and to serve, right where they were.

When those he healed wanted to go with him, he often told them to stay put and tell their story to those with whom they lived and worked. It’s harder to do that. Leaving one’s routine behind sounds exciting. It’s easier to love people we don’t know that well.

It’s easier to think about big events and projects than about calling our political representatives, taking time to visit with a grumpy neighbor, or becoming aware of how we might live more consciously of our effect on the planet. Following Jesus is more little steps than giant leaps. It’s more nitty-gritty than glitz.

Lent’s about embracing death, sure of life to come. It’s also about enjoying flowers in the wintertime. It’s about giving ourselves down time to remember that even when we don’t feel God with us or in our world, the Holy One lives in us all. Lent reminds me of this winter that prepares the earth for spring.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: Easter, grace, lent, love, Pete Seeger, Presence, spring, winter

March 5, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Lent: “Good Enough”

Painting by Richard Duarte Brown

I was talking with a Buddhist friend about Lent the other day. She asked if I were giving up chocolate. Her mother gives that up every year. I did when I was growing up. No wonder a big chocolate rabbit looked great in my Easter basket! “No,” I said. I hadn’t decided what I would do yet, but it would have more to do with helping me open up to God’s Grace and Presence in me and in the world that in banishing a particular food from my Lenten menu.

Not that altering my eating habits might not be on my list. Sometimes when I am tired or stressed, I resort to food to help me through. No food in particular, but at those times I usually clean out “sweet” before I go for “healthy.” Perhaps I could turn to reading a good book, or having a conversation with God before heading to the pantry. I could do something that feeds my spirit, that nurtures hope, that helps me see beauty and Presence. Those practices could bring peace and rest to a restless soul.

“My mom could give up negative ‘self-talk’,” my friend said. “She is always putting herself down.”

True. Recognizing God’s Presence in ourselves, God’s love for us, is difficult if what we see in the mirror of our mind is never good enough. Before we can experience God in the world, before we can serve and love others, we must love and appreciate ourselves. For some, the focus on “giving something up” reinforces their sense of always falling short. Of never being “enough.”

The events Lent/Easter call to mind for reflection tell us just the opposite: We are already enough. We are so “enough” that the Holy Mystery wants to dwell within us. Wants to walk our difficult paths through life as a companion and support. Walking the earth, Jesus showed us just how “enough” every person is. “Enough” to love. “Enough” to die for rather than betray.

I’m not saying giving up chocolate is off the table. Self-discipline starts in little ways. It should lead to other things. To being able to look at ourselves, at those in our lives, at those suffering in our country and around the world…To be able to look at those who are different than we are and to see everyone of us as God does: Gloriously enough. And then, somehow through how we live our lives, letting them know.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: grace, hope, inclusion, lent, self acceptance

February 6, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Ah! Ordinary Time

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

First published in The Catholic Times, February 9, 2014

Having grown up in a Catholic family, I’m steeped in ritual and the liturgical calendar. I love Advent, its wreath and candles and anticipation, Christmas with its joy and light in the dark winter. Lent with its weeks of refocusing and preparing to embrace the paschal mystery that ends in the glory of Easter is a part of moving into spring each year. Still, I have to admit to having a particular fondness for ordinary time, the liturgical “season” we are presently observing.

It provides a different type of spiritual journey that requires no particular practices, no gifts to buy, no rituals. Some years, when Lent comes quickly on the heels of Epiphany, I feel uneasy. Last year, two weeks of February hadn’t passed before Ash Wednesday arrived, too soon for me. I prefer a longer stretch of time between putting away Christmas ornaments and getting out the purple cloth that drapes over a small prayer table in the dining room.

It’s not that there’s nothing special about daily routines and happenings. It’s just the opposite. When focus is not on an upcoming holiday or celebration, we can celebrate the ordinary and simple things and discover anew just how full of grace they are. That’s often difficult since the familiar or unassuming can go unnoticed.

Thornton Wilder immortalized just how difficult recognizing the wonder of life is in his play, “Our Town,” when Emily asks the stage manager if anyone ever realizes life while they are living it. The stage manager answers, “No,” and then adds “Saints and poets maybe…they do some.”

Saints and poets. They both take time to be present to the glory of the moment, as simple as it may appear. They recognize the Sacred when the rest of us are hurrying by, preoccupied.

Jesus has a preference for the ordinary. He told stories full of seeds sprouting or not, of wedding feasts and wineskins. He wasn’t impressed by pretentious prayer practices and held up for our emulation the poor widow who gave her small coins rather than the wealthy who gave much more. He worked miracles with what was at hand: water and wine, loves and fishes, dirt and spit.

In Sunday’s gospel reading, Jesus compares his disciples to salt and light, two things so common that we often don’t give them much thought. Salt, a humble presence on the shelf that includes more exciting and exotic spices, adds zest and brings out flavors in food we eat every day. Light from a lamp is nothing spectacular. The lamp is small enough to fit under a basket! Jesus didn’t tell his followers that they should be like a blazing bonfire. A simple flame will do.

In fact, what we celebrate in the “big” liturgical seasons is really the infusion of Divine Presence into every aspect of life, no matter how simple. Each day we are called to “salt” life with the Love God has shared with us. We are called to shine the Light that dwells within us on those we meet each day. We are called to recognize the Holy Presence in the poor and oppressed and in those we encounter. We are called to embrace suffering as well as joy.

A young man takes a broom from the restaurant where he works and cleans snow from the car of an elderly couple he sees in the parking lot. A woman invites a homeless man in for lunch and coffee after paying him for weeding her garden. A retired teacher helps immigrants learn English. A poet rises early to write each day before heading into his “day job.” A daughter holds her elderly father’s hand as they sit, quietly in the nursing home, not saying a word. Someone does the grocery shopping. Someone cooks the meals. Someone notices the way the sun shines on the snow. Someone provides shelter for abused women. Someone listens. Someone holds. Someone visits prisons. Someone reads to a child.

The Holy One is recognized in the moment and in others. God is “born” into the world with every act of love and compassion. Jesus transforms the world with each “death” we embrace, and with every new step in life we are courageous enough to take. Ah. Ordinary Time.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: Catholic liturgical, creation, Ordinary Time, Our Town, present to the moment, ritual ordinary, spirituality, Thornton Wilder

January 18, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Faith and Science: What do they have to say to each other?

Global Cluster M15 from Hubble. Image Credit: ESA, Hubble, NASA

When she was about five, my daughter couldn’t sleep. When I checked in on her before turning in myself, I found her thoughtfully gazing at the glow-in-the-dark moon that looked back at her from the ceiling above her bed.

I asked what was on her mind she confided her conundrum: faith and science. Some people said people lived with dinosaurs and that the earth was not that old and that God created it in seven days. Science told her differently.

“I love God, but I love science, too. I don’t know which one to choose.”

Not “Good Night Moon” conversation. I assured her that she didn’t have to choose between them. That the Bible isn’t a science book. That it tells stories to help us understand that somehow, God started creation. That faith and science both search for truth and that they will both lead to God.

She slept, and I wondered what she might ask tomorrow.

Faith and Science. What do they have to say to each other? This question has been around for centuries. Are we better listeners now? I found this article, Conversations on the Intersections between Faith and Science, by Trent Gilliss on Bill Moyers.com. It is a selection of audio interviews from Krista Tippett’s NPR show, On Being. This collection provides links to her interviews with a variety of guests including two Jesuit astronomers from the Vatical Observatory and Freeman Dyson and Paul Davies who are both theoretical physicists discussing Einstein’s God. Bookmark this because the audio are fifty some minutes long, and you will want to return to listen to each of them. Unless, of course, you have a day to give to listening and pondering these questions and your own experiences of how faith and science can inform each other. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday!

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: Albert Einstein, Bill Moyers, creation, faith, Krista Tippett, physics, questions, science, Vatican Observatory

January 16, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

A New Year’s Resolution: Always Open

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Originally published in the Catholic Times January 19, 2014

Often on New Years, people make resolutions. According to a survey by the University of Scranton’s Journal of Clinical Psychology, about forty-eight percent of Americans usually make resolutions while only about 8 percent successfully keep them. Top on the list? Losing weight. Getting organized, spending less and saving more, and enjoying life to the fullest are next. Staying healthy, learning something exciting, and quitting smoking follow. Helping others achieve their goals, falling in love, and spending more time with family round out the top ten.

I’m not a list maker, but there are a few exceptions: If I don’t make a grocery list, I end up buying too much, and when I travel, I make a list of what I should pack. When working on a long-term writing project or composing a talk, I make notes, an unorganized brainstorming list at first that eventually takes shape.

At the beginning of the New Year, I sometimes open my journal, jotting down thoughts and goals for the months ahead. This year’s inspiration came as I shared the first dinner of 2014 with a small group of friends. Before eating, we joined hands while one spoke a blessing beautiful in its simplicity and breadth. Fitting for a new year, it included those present as well as friends and family far away, the gift of creation, the food, and the hands that prepared it, and thanksgiving for the Holy One who sustains all.

The words that stayed with me as I drove home later that evening were the ones inviting us always to be open and receptive to Grace, God’s Self, as it is given. This thought suggested a resolution different from those that commit us to change something in our lives, those that depend on our activity. We can do or not do something to achieve those goals. For example, many of us can develop the discipline necessary to eat less and more healthily. We can give our best efforts toward quitting smoking, learning something, or spending more time with family and friends. These things require us to do something.

The resolution playing in my mind that night was different. It called me to still my heart, not so much to do something as to be something: to be open, to be ready. I can’t make Grace come; I simply receive it when it does.

Unlike watching pounds drop away on a scale or playing a game with your family, becoming receptive to Grace is not something we can see or measure. Sometimes, even when Grace fills our hearts, we don’t know it.

This kind of “resolution” requires faith. Faith that the Holy One is always pouring out Divine Life, faith that this Fountain-Fullness never runs dry, faith that my soul is capable of holding such precious Gift.

Always being open to receive Grace differs from typical resolutions in another way, too. While many New Year’s promises call us to transform ourselves into something “better,” the resolution of openness tells us we are already “good,” good enough that God trusts us with Divine Life. We don’t do the changing. It is that Life that changes us.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: grace, Grace in the Moment, New Year's resolution, open, prayer, Presence, spirituality

January 2, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

You Do Not Recognize

“…but there is one among you whom you do not recognize...” Today’s gospel reading Jn 1, 26b

God among us, and we don’t notice: God who wanders in the streets looking for a homeless shelter on this snowy day. Who huddles lonely and forgotten in nursing homes. Who wanders into our stores to buy or just to be around other people, looking for a kind word or listening ear. Who lives next door but we don’t talk.

God among us, and we don’t notice: God who fills our classrooms. Who removes our garbage. Who cares for us. Who needs our help. Who’s our best friend. Our nemesis.

“Who are you anyway?” they asked John the Baptist. Not the Christ. Not Elijah. Not the Prophet who is to come. So who? “The voice of one crying out in the desert, make straight the way of the Lord.”

“There is one coming whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie,” he said.

An endless list. One person we likely won’t think of is ourselves. We look outward, sometimes finding Divine Presence in others. Sometimes not. But do we look inward and expect the Holy One dwelling there? We know ourselves too well…or perhaps not well at all, but we think we do.

Did John know that the One who was to come, who had indeed come already, had always been dwelling in his heart?

This year I will do better, I tell myself. I will look with different eyes at the people who fill my life. I will slow down more often, and look within. I will recognize the One who is among us and who dwells in my heart. Whose life is my own.

This year I will do better. With Grace. I tell myself.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: grace, Presence, present to the moment, quiet prayer

January 2, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

New Year’s Eve

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

2013 was coming to an end and I was spending a couple hours of it with Dominican sisters and their friends. We sat in the chapel facing toward the altar and the large glass windows behind it that looked out into a wooded area. Tree trunks and branches sprouted white lights shining bright against the darkness.

After a hymn stories were told of an woman whose son had shot a number of Amish children years ago before killing himself and the forgiveness she received from that community. Parent’s of murdered children had come to her son’s funeral, the first to greet her. Now, that mother takes her weekly turn caring for the most disabled of her son’s living victims. Forgiveness.

Another story. This one of Elie Weisel speaking of the moment he was finally able to forgive God for the holocaust, a moment when he realized God suffered as God’s children suffered at the hands of other members of God’s family. For fifty years, he had been unable to forgive.

Nelson Mandela’s words were remembered: “Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.”

Peace, these sisters were reminding us, begins in our own hearts, in our ordinary choices. Peace begins with forgiveness, of others, of ourselves.

We sat in quiet for a long time, in the presence of one another and of God. I tired to lose myself in the infinite embrace of the divine. I practiced centering prayer. I breathed in and out, slowly. I felt my own hurt. I tried to feel it and to forgive those who put it there. I became aware of hurts I have caused and hoped someone, somewhere could forgive me, too.

I opened my eyes and looked around me. Movement outside caught my eye. Deer were walking through the glowing trees behind the altar. Not a sound anywhere. The rows of chairs were sparsely occupied by women mostly much older than me: Retired teachers, musicians, and professors. Artists. Women who had given their lives to God and to the church which, I am sure for some anyway, was a cause of pain and hurt. But here they were , a small community, tucked away in some corner of Ohio, praying for peace. Trying to be peace. How many other corners of our country or our world were filled with people, sitting quietly, hoping to learn how to live peace and bring peace and honor God with it? Quiet convents and monasteries. Living rooms and bedrooms. Chapels and city streets. Hospital rooms and party rooms.

We sang the office and then shared snacks and conversation in the common dining room.

For the moment, the world was a more peaceful place.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: compassion, faith, grace, hope, peace, present to the moment, quiet prayer

December 29, 2013 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Feast of the Holy Family When You Are Divorced

by Richard Duarte Brown

I have been divorced for a few years, and unhappily married for many more. So, for quite awhile, this feast was a challenge for me as I sat through homilies that excluded my experience of married life. Today, thankfully, the priest mentioned a wide variety of families beyond the nuclear family. He mentioned those dealing with divorce and with abusive marriages. He also mentioned those who are single, both by choice and by circumstance. The Healthy Children.org website lists eight different configurations for families with children including single parent, grandparents as parents, adoptive/foster, and same sex families.

As I sat and listened to the readings, I reminded myself that I am a member of many families: my family of origin which blessed me with love and wisdom to raise my children as well as to deal with pain and disappointment in my own marriage. I have a family of three wonderful adult children who will always be a deep part of the fabric of my life and who bring me joy and encouragement. I have an extended family of brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, and aunt and cousins. And then there is the family of friends that reach far and wide across the continent and the oceans. There is a parish family who welcomed me for a special evening and meal before midnight mass.

Paul’s letter to the Colossians spoke of another family: The huge, diverse family of the children of God. All other families rest in this one. It is the one Pope Francis calls us to embrace and serve with our lives. It is the one we celebrate when we pray together as a parish or in small, intentional communities.

Sometimes, that big family is a bit too “out there” to feel warm and embracing when you need that. But “close up” families don’t always supply that either. No matter where we find ourselves today: single, divorced, happily married, or suffering through an abusive relationship that is best ended, we can remember we are part of a wonderfully large family of the One who made us all. If we are blessed with support and love around us, we are called to reach out to those who are not. Families, at their best, look out for one another. We are called to be a family at its best.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: compassion, divorce, family, hope, inclusion, Pope Francis, Richard Duarte Brown