Saint Thomas Aquinas 1225 – 1274 Saint Thomas Aquinas was educated by Benedictines but eventually chose to join the Dominican order, much to his family’s dismay. He continued his education in Paris and Cologne under the tutelage of Albert the Great. During this time, the writings of Aristotle had been rediscovered and were causing ferment in the Christian world of philosophy and theology. Why would a follower of Christ have any interest in the work of an ancient pagan philosopher? Did Aristotle’s writings threaten the Church and its mission to spread the word of God?

As I read about Thomas this morning on one of my favorite sites, Universalis, a phrase in Martin Kochanski’s short commentary on Thomas caught my attention-“Truth cannot contradict truth: if Aristotle (the great, infallible pagan philosopher) appears to contradict Christianity (which we know by faith to be true), then either Aristotle is wrong or the contradiction is in fact illusory.”

This quote reminded me of a conversation I had years ago with my then five-year-old daughter who is now an archeologist. One night, when I climbed the steps to check on her, I found her wide awake, looking at the ceiling and the glow in the dark moon stuck to it.

“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked.

She turned her wide eyes toward me and said, “I don’t know what to do. I love God, but I love science, too. And the Bible says God made the world in seven days and some people say dinosaurs and people lived at the same time, but science says that isn’t true.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to pick.”

I sat on the bed beside her. Her anguish was as real as I imagine that of some of Thomas’ contemporaries wrestling with Aristotle.

“You don’t have to choose. The Bible isn’t a science book. The people who wrote it weren’t scientists and they weren’t trying to tell us how the world was really created. No one was there when it happened. No one knows. But, they were trying to tell us the truth, as they understood it: Somehow, God started it all. Scientists are looking for truth, too. Both religion and science are searching for truth and truth will always lead us to the same place: to God.”

I ran my fingers through her silky hair. She was watching me, hearing what I said.

“Don’t worry, Em. You don’t have to choose. Just keep looking for the truth.”

The muscles in her face relaxed and a smile lit up her eyes.

“Ohhh,” she sighed. “That’s good. Cause I don’t know which one I would have picked.”

She turned over and drew the covers up under her chin. I kissed her and, as I stood up to leave I heard her saying, “ I DO love science.”

Many in Thomas Aquinas’ day feared the truth when it was spoken by Aristotle. The Church feared the truth of Copernicus and Galileo, but no amount of suppression could keep it from eventually bringing people from knowing that the planets orbited the sun. Such knowledge has not been the undoing of the Church. And truth as we learn of it will not be the undoing of our faith either.

We must not fear the truth. We must be open to hearing it from people and places we might not expect to speak it to us. What we know as “truth” about many things has changed over decades. Questioning whether or not women have souls is unthinkable now. Not always. What we understood as “truth” about about race, about sexuality and gender identity has changed. Decades of scientific exploration and research has deepened our knowledge of the universe, the earth, and our impact on it.

We need not only “truth tellers,” but also “truth hearers.” Thomas was a “truth teller” in his time. Who are the “truth tellers” today? Do we listen to them? Does our Church, our government, those in power?
Distinguishing was is true from what is not has never been an easy task. But, I stand by what I said to my daughter: Truth will always lead to God.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen Whistle Pig Gallery on Main The weekly Convivium, or gathering for lunch and conversation, was one of my favorite events during my year at the Collegeville Institute. Sponsored by the School of Theology, the lunch was prepared by a different group each week and showcased ethnic foods of the students and residents as well as good old American standards. “Convivium” comes from the Latin meaning “feast,” or in a more broad understanding, “living together” from “con” + “vivio.”

The experience in Collegeville followed noon prayer (also led by students) and provided an opportunity to share good food, conversation, news of upcoming events, while contributing to the sense of community.

I am blessed to share a monthly meal, conversation, and prayer with a small group where I live. We have been meeting for about seven years and bring one another joy and support. In our society, taking time to sit together, savor food and enjoy others’ company is becoming less common. Many families have difficulty finding time to eat together as they juggle work, school, sports, and other activities.

In the past week I have had the chance to enjoy a few such meals: a brunch with a longtime friend who was in town for a family funeral; dinner with my sister and her husband; and a gathering at a new gallery that features a wide selection of art for sale by local artists, a few antiques, and on some evenings, a jam session.

While the evening at the gallery was not exactly a “meal,” it did include wonderful homemade soup, appetizers, wine, and hot cider. Regulars mingled with people coming for the first time. Conversation buzzed and music from guitars and a harmonica filled the space. I picked up a guitar and pulling on long memory, played and sang a couple of songs. It felt good. So did strumming along as others sang.

What all these have in common is taking the time to enjoy the company of those around us and the creativity of cooking, art, and music. Being present to one another and to simple joys nurtures our spirits and deepens our experience of life and grace.

PhOTO: Mary van Balen This winter has been mild, giving us some almost balmy sunny days. One morning the light coming in my bedroom window was so strong that I grouped plants from around the room onto one dresser so they could benefit from the rays. I sat on my bed and looked at them, enjoying the shine on their leaves and imagining the roots stretching and moving around in the warm soil.

Today I decided to ignore usual “day off chores” and soak up the sun as well. I stepped outside and decided to walk toward the used furniture store that provided my dining room table. I crossed to the sunny side of the street, took a deep breath, and savored the sun’s warmth on my face.

A perfectly shaped balsam fir, having finished its work as a Christmas tree, lay by the curb waiting, I hoped, to be picked up and turned into mulch rather than into landfill debris. I moved aside to make room for a young woman pushing a jogging baby stroller while keeping track of a large black lab on a leash. We smiled and nodded as we passed.

I did a little window shopping and checked out a shoe repair/used clothing store. The proprietor assured me that he could fix a broken zipper on a pair of high black boots. I crossed the street to browse through my favorite used furniture store and eventually began the walk home.

Turning onto my street, facing the sunlight straight on, I stood and soaked up its energy and warmth…like the plants on my dresser. I am creative about finding ways to put off laundry and other housekeeping chores, but this walk was not an excuse. It was pure gift, not to be missed next time it is offered.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Last night, this old hippie attended her first rock concert. Well, the Trans Siberian Orchestra is not a true “rock band,” as my daughter who accompanied me pointed out, but it is close enough. I was propelled to buy two tickets one night when I was hungry for music, music that would energize as well as entertain. Having listened to Rochmaninoff’s “Vespers,” Handel’s Messiah,” and Pavorrati’s “O Holy Night” countless times, I logged on the internet only to find that the singalong Messiah, and any holiday offerings of the symphony were past. Few options remained before the new year.

One group, Trans Siberian Orchestra, sounded familiar. My work schedule actually would allow me to attend their Sunday afternoon concert. I googled the group, an eclectic mix of strings, percussion, guitar, and vocals, and decided to give it a go.

During my last hour at work yesterday, I felt my excitement building and reveled in feelings that I have not had for a while: Looking forward to something in particular. I rushed out of work and picked up my daughter, who was dressed to the nines in her own particular style. Turns out she looked like she could have been on stage. When I mentioned that she laughed. “I can’t help it if they copied my style!” which is a mix of Victorian and Goth I suppose. She looked stunning with her long blond hair and sweeping black coat.

I shed my work black, slipped on jeans and a cream colored top, and we were ready to go. In retrospect perhaps I should have worn my long black skirt.

“You look great dressed up” I said as we walked along with the crowd toward the arena. She seemed to be enjoying the occasional looks she drew.

“Everyone looks great dressed up. That’s why they call it ‘dressed up.'” More laughter that felt as good as the anticipation.

I insisted we pass up healthier fare and bought hot dogs and fries for both of us once we were inside. I had been working since 6:45, and we were both hungry. I don’t usually buy hot dogs but confess to savoring them at cookouts and ballparks.

Our seats were in the top tier, front row. If the plexiglass extension of the low wall in front of us had not been there, I might have rolled right over and landed in someone’s lap below. I had a similar feeling once before at my one and only attendance at an Ohio State football game. I was at the top of the stadium, and looking down at the field below, was sure I was going to fall onto its green turf.

Folding our long legs back to fit between the wall and our seats, we settled in. For me that meant meeting the people beside me, exchanging all types of information about ourselves and the band. For my daughter it meant studying the lighting and staging effects with her physicist’s eye and holding her striking presence straight and composed as she waited.

I, on the other hand, was unloading binoculars and a monocluar (which I cheerfully offered to my row mates) and my camera, looping its strap over my wrist lest it fall onto the concrete floor, or worse, over the the wall. I finished my drink, and as the lights dimmed, I leaned forward on my chair, not sure what to expect.

Snippets of Martin Luther King Jr, John F. Kennedy, Churchill, Regan delivering famous speeches played across the LED arrays at the back and in front of the stage “I have a dream.” “Ask not what your country can do for you…” “Tear down this wall…” Lights. Sounds. “Fog” pouring across the stage. A string section from our city’s orchestra sat at the ready. The drummer surrounded by a perfusion of percussion instruments looked small in the middle of them. Two keyboards waited for the musicians who would alternately pound and coax amazing sounds from their keys.

Sound, laser lights, and motion exploded. The TSO concert had begun.

I enjoyed it all, drinking in the energy, the music, the passion. The audience, all 2100 of us, included every age and race and style. Christmas stories were told and carols were sung in a style, while never imagined by their creators, that still spoke to the heart. The first half of the show was all Christmas. The second half was a mix of other themes and songs familiar to TSO fans.

I may write more later, after work, but for now I will say the evening was a success beyond my hopes. Music, sound, and energy filled my body and soul. Joy and just plain fun bathed us all.

As I read today’s morning prayer scripture, I smiled. Isaiah could never have imagined what I say and heard last night, but his words described it well:’

“SIng out, heavens, and rejoice, earth, break forth into song, you mountains, For the Lord comforts his people and shows mercy to his afflicted….”

Today’s headlines include an AP article about the increase of poverty in the US. According to census figures, 1 in 2 people in the US are poor or low income. The figures are not surprising since the economy has been struggling for years, and government programs that act as safety nets have been decreased. My job, fulltime at a large department store, would put me in the low income range even though I work 35-39 hours per week. It does provide good benefits, and many of those who work there are not the sole income earners for themselves or their families. Still, I am blessed to have other sources of revenue to supplement my pay check. All are not so fortunate.

I am well educated and have a wide variety of experience and a strong social network that gives me support. What about those who have less education? Who have young children to support? Who are single parents? Who have been out of work for years? If I had difficulty finding a job, imagine the plight of so many others. As I said, the figures were not surprising.

What bothered me in the article was a comment by Robert Rector, a research fellow at the conservative Heritage Foundation. He questioned whether those classified as poor or low-income in the census report actually suffered material hardship. He thinks the safety-net governmental programs offered to such people have been overdone. His rationale? Some of them have cars, decent sized homes, and widescreen TVs.

Finding a job let alone holding on to one is difficult if one does not have a car. In our country that has for the most part eschewed good public mass transportation, a car is a necessity for most. Many people I have worked with in poverty programs have a car (many did not) but it was not dependable. It broke down often and continually needed repair. Many famiies shared one car, making multiple trips to transport people to work and daycare.

Decent sized housing? What does that mean? That a family has a place to eat, relax, and sleep? Isn’t decent housing a right? Isn’t that what organizations like Habitat for Humanity are trying to provide? Does “decent” include location? Does it make a difference where homes are located? Does the quality of education change depending on where you live? I think we know the answer to that.

Is someone considered “poor” or “low income” only if they have no place for privacy to sleep and live?

And the wide-screen TV. Ah yes. How many times have I heard that poor people have big TV’s or cable or cell phones… (ReadingDr. Ruby Payne’s work may help one understand more about the effects of generational poverty and the different “rule” that apply to those in poverty, middle-class, and wealth.)

If someone lives a life of struggle and battles hopelessness and despair; if someone does not plan ahead because his or her focus is simply surviving day at a time and figuring out ways to respond to crises that come up (broken down car, sick child, heat turned off…) then entertainment is important. It is a way to escape for a few hours the difficulties of day to day life.

I wonder what Mr. Rector does to relax? I imagine he has many options, including bur certainly not limited to a good television.

Do we want to require people to be in abject poverty before we lend a hand? How can people become “self sufficient” without help in areas basic to finding and holding a job? His comments imply that people who are poor or hovering on the edge of poverty don’t go out and look for jobs, preferring instead to live off government programs.

Looking for jobs does not guarantee finding one. Rector speaks as if those needing assistance are not trying: “As we come out of recession, it will be important that these programs promote self-sufficiency rather than dependence and encourage people to look for work.”

Jesus asks in the gospel today: “what did you go out to the desert to see–a reed swayed by the wind? Then what did you go out to see? Someone dressed in fine garments? Those who dress luxuriously and live sumptuously are found in royal palaces. (Might we add Wall Street?) Then what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet…I tell you, among those born of women, on one is greater than John; yet the least in the Kingdom of God is greater than he.”

Who do we go out to see as we prepare to Christmas? The “least” that Jesus loves. There are plenty of prophets in our midst, people living with hope in conditions that would overwhelm many of us. People suffering with illness and no health care. People whose lives speak to us: “We are God’s children. The Christ lives in us, too.”

Jesus teachings turned the world upside down. Christmas is a time to reverence not only the helpless infant born in Bethlehem, but the prophet/God he revealed as a man. This holy baby grows into the One who challenges us to lives of service.

Who do we see, laying in the manger?

PHOTO: Mary van Balen – vase Paul Distelzweig Last night, after dinner and prayer, my spirituality group blessed my new flat! A beautiful surprise. One arrived with a sprig of green and placed it in a vase on the buffet. When the evening was drawing to a close, Noreen said, “There are six spaces here, and six of us. Each pick a space and bless it, speaking from your heart.”

Dipping the green into a bowl of water, Ann went without hesitation to the kitchen where she sprinkled the counter built by my brother, the stove, sink, and pantry made by my daughter and spoke of the joy of preparing food for self and friends, and hoped I would enjoy this kitchen space as much as she enjoys hers.

Denis took the sprig and blessed the dining area and table where friends and family gather. “May they be filled and satisfied not only with food, but with spirit.”

Lavonne took the sprig. “We’re traveling,” she said and walked to the bathroom where the colorful “map of the world” shower curtain adds brightness to the small space.

“May this place be a place of refreshment and relaxation and the hot waters of showers and baths relieve stress and tension. Besides studying geography (laughter), may you also be renewed.”

We moved to the study where Rick sprinkled water, carefully avoiding the computer, and a prayer was offered for my work and prayer in this space. “May it be a place where you feel at peace, where you continue to use your gifts to write and minister to others as you do. May it be a life-giving place for you.”

We moved to the bedroom, where Max prayed for peaceful slumber and wonderful dreams; a place to renew energy to pursue the great plans God has for you.

Lastly, Noreen blessed the living room. “May all that enter this door come in peace and leave in peace,” she said. Turning from the door, she sprinkled the CD player and television, the chairs and couch, and prayed that the space would be blessed with a circle of friends. As she spoke, she sprinkled each of us, giving Denis a soak (which he loves to do when he celebrates Mass. “Turn about is fair play,” I said.)

I thanked them all and as they left one said, “We left you with a sink full of dishes.”

“No problem. They will take a few minutes to clean up. What you left was Grace and Presence.”

How easy to forget the sacredness of the spaces in which we live. My friends reminded me of the holiness of my little flat and the wonder of Presence which fills it. I remembered my parents and the hospitality and generosity the shared with all who came to their door. They gave the gift of God’s Presence within them. Their home was a space where people loved to come.

Take a few moments and reflect on the rooms in your home or apartment. Think of what happens in them. Remember that you are living in Sacred Spaces, made so by your own self, the work of living that you do there. And reverence the sacredness and Presence brought into it by your family and friends.

Friends are coming to dinner tonight. We meet once a month for dinner, conversation, and prayer. This is the fist gathering I have hosted in my new place, and I am looking forward to it. I cleaned, put on “Vespers” by Rachmaninoff, and lit candles. What a wonderful way to celebrate the feast of St. Nicholas. Three gold coins sit on each plate, remembering’ the story of Nicholas helping a poor man and this three daughters by tossing a bag of gold coins into the young women’s window, providing a dowery for each. One story claims the gold fell into their stockings, and thus, we hang Christmas stockings to be filled with small gifts.

Tonight, as we gather for prayer, we will read over today’s Scriptures which speak of God’s great love for every person and desire to take care of the poor. God is compared to a shepherd caring for his sheep, searching for one who wanders away, not wanting to lose even one. Readings from Ezekiel, Isaiah, and Mark echo the theme of Love wrapping us up, protecting us, and making sure we arrive safely home.

That wonderful Presence of Love, God-with-Us is something to celebrate tonight in the midst of Advent. We are waiting for Love, we are receiving Love, we are to bring Love into the world.

During this season, remembering the centrality of that Holy Presence will help us make it through the crazy commercialism that threatens to take over the holiday, at least in this country. St. Nicholas was a generous presence among his people both before and after he became a bishop. This evening, I will reflect on my friends who are gathering with me and the presence they bring: Not gifts wrapped in boxes or pretty bags, but the gifts of themselves and the God they share with each other.

Sometimes we do anything to drive darkness away. The empty space inside our hearts, the “virginal emptiness” as Caryll Houselander calls it, can be uncomfortable. Even as we “wait” during Advent, we can fill our days with enough activity and preparation for Christmas day that we have no time or desire to experience the emptiness which God alone can fill. And honestly, who can blame us? Darkness can be scary. Like when we were children and wanted a night light or at least the bedroom door left ajar to let in light from the hallway. Who knew what lurked in the darkness under our beds, in the closets, or in the night?

When I saw this house and lawn covered with lights and every imaginable decoration from Santas to moose sitting on packages, I was reminded of the human tendency to light up the dark, even if the end result is as confusing and garish as these Christmas decorations. A nativity scene is tucked into the display, but is not lit and is better seen when the sun comes up and the electricity goes off.

While waiting in the darkness, I try to remember today’s passage from Isaiah, one of my favorites: Thus says the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel: O people of Zion, who dwell in Jerusalem, no more will you weep; He will be gracious to you when you cry out, as soon as he hears he will answer you. The Lord will give you the bread you need and the water for which you thirst. No linger will your Teacher hide himself, but with your own eyes you shall see your Teacher. While from behind, a voice shall sound in your ears: “This is the way; walk in it,” when you turn to the right or to the left. He will give rain for the seed that you sow in the ground, And the wheat that the soil produces will be rich and abundant. (Is 30.19-21,23)

In darkness, I don’t always hear that voice or feel the blessed rain of Grace and the fruitfulness promised. But, I have a better chance of hearing it when I am still than when I light my darkenss with distractions and activity meant to drive it away. Having faith that the Voice is speaking, that the Grace is falling is difficult. Still, I wait. We wait. The world waits. The young Afghan woman from yesterday’s blog, waits. The poor and oppressed wait. It is good to remember, we do not wait alone.

Moon, Jupiter, Venus PHOTO: Mary van Balen Today’s readings are full of light. The morning Psalm (69): “Lord answer for your mercy is kind; in your great compassion, turn toward me. Do not hide your face from your servant; answer me quickly, for I am in distress…”

From the book of Tobit, who had become blind: “Tobit saw his son and threw his arms around him. Weeping, he exclaimed, “I can see you, son, the light of my eyes! Then he prayed, ‘Blessed be God, blessed be his great name, and blessed be all his holy angels.'”

From Isaiah 29: “On that day the deaf shall her the words of a book; And out of gloom of darkness, the eyes of the blind shall see.”

From the gospel, Matthew 9: “As Jesus passed by, two blind men followed him, crying out, ‘Son of David, have pity on us!’ When he entered the house, the blind men approached him and Jesus said to them, ‘Do you believe that I can do this?’ ‘Yes, Lord,’ they said to him. Then he touched their eyes and said, ‘Let it be done for you according to your faith.’ And their eyes were opened…”

From Psalm 27: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The Lord is my life’s refuge; of whom should I be afraid? One thing I ask of the Lord; this I seek: To dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life…Wait for the Lord with courage; be stouthearted, and wait for the Lord.”

I read today’s readings. Then I read articles in The New York Times. An Afghan woman, 19, who was raped and gave birth to her child in prison will be pardoned…if she marries the rapist. Democrats and Republicans at odds over tax bill that would extend tax cuts to millions of middle class workers and increase taxes on millionaires and billionaires. No new taxes is the Republican mantra. Cautious steps towards opening relations with Myanmar on conditions of opening politics and ending violent oppression.

Ready to leave for work, I wonder about my faith in the Light. Can I, can those suffering in ways I cannot imagine, “Wait for the Lord with courage; be stouthearted, and wait for the Lord?”

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Last night I attended a lecture by John Allen, journalist and senior correspondent for the National Catholic Reporter and senior Vatican analyst for CNN. The topic of his presentation was “The Future Church.” Mr. Allen listed ten trends that are shaping the Catholic Church today and picked a few to comment on at length. One, “The Rise of the Global South,” was a topic of conversation at a late dinner with friends after the talk. The numbers he presented were overwhelming.

In 1900, out of 266 million Catholics, 200 million lived in the North (Europe and N. America). 66 million lived everywhere else. In 2000, out of 1100 million Catholics, 720 million lived in the Southern Hemisphere while 380 million lived in Europe and N. America. By 2050, three quarters of Catholics will live in the Global South.

The numbers speak for themselves. What remained with me as I arrived at home was not the effect that the values and priorities of the majority of Catholics will have on the Church and its policies, though we are already seeing that and will undoubtably see more. What remained with me was a personal sense of smallness. I am one, tiny part of a huge world.

Sometimes, living and working in our own places and spaces, we can forget the vastness of our world and the variety of the people who fill it. Our concerns, our issues, our immediate milieu become “our world.” That is natural. News and photos from around the world give us a more global look, but I think what is most often in our thoughts is day to day life where we are and where our family and friends are.

Mr. Allen’s numbers snapped me into an awareness of the changing demographics of the world and my “world’s” small place in it.

This makes the Incarnation all the more mysterious. Who am I, who is any one of us, past or present, that the Creator of all things would come to be with us? Would reveal the Divine Self to us in flesh and blood?

True, we are like grains of sand on an endless beach, but Advent reminds us that the Holy One cares for each of us, whether from North or South, East or West. Then numbers from Mr. Allen’s talk were humbling. In another way they are cause for wonder at the Love that finds each of us worth living and dying for.

The Incarnation is ongoing, within each of us. Becoming more aware of those around us and those around the world who need our help is one way to “keep Advent” and to join in Chirst’s work of bringing the Kingdom.