The Lord said to Abram, ‘Leave your country, your family and your father’s house, for the land I will show you. I will make you a great nation; I will bless you and make your name so famous that it will be used as a blessing.
‘I will bless those who bless you:
I will curse those who slight you.
All the tribes of the earth
shall bless themselves by you.’
So Abram went as the Lord told him.

Genesis 12:1-4

The first reading today tells the story of Abram’s call from God to leave his home and follow God to some unnamed place. Abram does as he is instructed, even with scanty information.

As Jaques Guillet points out in his article on “Blessings” in “Dictionary of Biblical Theology,” this blessing marked a turning point, it was a “new kind of blessing.” After many chapters of curses after sin made its entrance into the world, God addresses Abram with a blessing not only for himself or his family, but for all peoples on the earth. This is the beginning of the unfolding of salvation history.

Why Abram? Scriptures do not tell us, but they do record his (and Sara’s) response; obedience. What did it mean for he and Sara to leave family, friends, homeland for an unknown destination? Did the ones behind think the couple was crazy or odd? How did they explain their move to people who worshiped many gods?

While no history of Abram and his wife are given, we know they were people of faith. That alone is enough to answer “Why them?” People with faith strong enough to enable them to trust their lives and their future to an unknown God.

When unknowns fill our lives, we might remember Abram and Sara, their trust that led through difficult times, but eventually to great blessings. God did not abandon them, nor will we be left alone. God walks with us.

PHOTO: NASA Bless the Lord, all his works,
praise and exalt him for ever.
Bless the Lord, you heavens;
all his angels, bless the Lord.
Bless the Lord, you waters above the heavens;
all his powers, bless the Lord.
Bless the Lord, sun and moon;
all stars of the sky, bless the Lord.

Dn 3, 57-63

This evening, if you are able to look east as the moon hangs over the horizon, you will be treated to a sight that occurs only once every eighteen years: A super moon. It occurs when the full moon phase coincides with the moon’s closest pass by the earth, the perigee. For unexplainable reasons, the moon appears huge when it hovers at the horizon and shines through trees, houses, or other objects in the foreground. Tonight’s view will be stunning for those in locations free of clouds.

Such a sight can make one’s heart beat a faster; one’s breath come quicker. Accustomed to the majesty of the universe, not giving a thought to the fact that we are spinning through space, a smallish planet circling a medium sized star, we can take a moment to be still, and standing beneath the sky, remember that we are also standing in the midst of a universe beyond our understanding. We can drink in the glory of the night sky and sing the praises of the One who set these wonders in motion.
© 2011 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen
Pay attention, come to me; listen, and your soul will live.

Mid Morning Prayer (Terce) Isaiah 55:3

Isaiah’s words from today’s Liturgy of the Hours are short and to the point. Why does something as simple as “pay attention” need said, especially when the result is vitality of spirit? Many times my columns, articles, and blogs include references to being present to the moment. Writer, Don Murray, says writers have a few “themes” that provide a core for their works.

Being present to God in the moment is one of mine. Why write about it, coming at it from different directions over and over again? It resurfaces because as much as I know its importance, being faithful to its practice is difficult.

Attentiveness needs time to bear fruit, like planting a seed and watering it. The sprout does not appear immediately, but without water, it will not appear at all.

Lent calls us to attentiveness. God’s Spirit may lie quiet and unnoticed in our souls, like plants resting out of sight all winter long. Taking time to be with the Holy One in the stillness of our hearts, in quiet moments snatched from a busy day, nurtures God’s life in each of us and promises to bring it to bloom.
© 2011 Mary van Balen

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

If you attended a Catholic School, today is a day you may remember as one that required wearing some bit of green. No matter that you had not a drop of Irish blood in your veins. Being of Dutch descent, I once rebelled and wore orange instead. Only once.

Patrick left two documents that are believed to be authentic and from them we gather most of what we know about him, “The Confession of Saint Patrick”detailing much of his life. What remains with me is not the hagiography, the ridding the Emerald Isle of snakes (Some say it never had snakes, and the legend grew from Patrick’s battles with the Druids.), or even using the shamrock to illustrate the mystery of the Trinity.

What I remember is that he was kidnapped from Britain as a teenager, taken as a slave to Ireland where he tended sheep for six years, retuned to his homeland and chose to return to the place of his captivity to bring the Good News. Would that we all could be so forgiving of slights and hurts in our lives. Patrick saw the need for someone to share faith in Jesus Christ to the people of Ireland, but it did not have to be him.

Forgiving someone who hurts you is difficult enough, but to go beyond that and to do good for that person, takes heart. Patrick must have had a big one. One that was filled not only with compassion, but also with the desire to share what he believed passionately

I have included a link to what is probably the most well-known prayer attributed to him, The Breastplate of St. Patrick. It is most often quoted in an abridged form. Here you can read it in its entirety. It is also called “Lorica of Saint Patrick.” In Christian monastic tradition, a Lorica was an incantation or prayer of protection, and the word can be translated “breastplate.”

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!
© 2011 Mary van Balen

(U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 1st Class Matthew M. Bradley/Released)
When in Creation

When in creation life is lost, the powers of God seem weak.
When young and old are swept away by rivers in the streets,
We seek the wisdom that ordained the sun to rule the day,
and pray to God that lives be saved and hope will find a way.

Where is the goodness of our God when seas force life to die?
Where is the powerful love of God when people hurt and cry?
Lord, how your wonders are displayed, wher e’er I turn my eye,
O God, our help in ages past, be with the world today.

from: © Tommy Shephard (26 December 2004) published by the United Methodist Church, Board of Discipleship

Some images coming out of Japan are too painful to look at for long. Unimaginable suffering. In the face of such tragedy, prayer seems inadequate.

Thinking of Psalms of Lament, I spoke with Kathryn Rickert, a friend who is an adjunct professor at Seattle University who has made a study of the Biblical prayer of lament and asked about our faith response in such times.

“Part of the problem…. from where we are safe and sound in the USA, is that we can’ t actually lament
unless we see ourselves in the disaster with the people of Japan. From this distance, we are praying for them. To pray for is not the same as to lament with.”

Those of us not in the midst of the unfolding catastrophe in Japan still have lamenting to do. Such events call into question faith in a good God. We struggle to accept the randomness of such a natural disaster. It reveals our vulnerability as well as that of the Japanese people.

Kathryn suggested a song, written as a response to the tsunami and earthquake of December 26, 2004, in memory of the thousands of people who lost their lives.

“…We are actually lamenting our own questions about the disaster,rather than crying out in the first person, near to the destruction,” she said.

I offer the song as a way of giving voice to questions that disturb our sense of fairness and shake our faith. We cry out to God, “Where were you?” “How can this happen?” “What will come next?” “What can happen to me?”
Nothing seems sure when nature itself seems to turn against us.

As in the Psalms of lament, this song ends with an expression of faith that despite feeling abandoned, God is with us and will give us strength and refuge as we face our own “darkest hour,” whenever and wherever that is.

Let us join our prayer with the prayers of the world for those suffering in Japan. Let us face our fears, and pray, too, for all people on this planet who watch what is happening and realize that we are one people on a common journey fraught with pain and struggle that we cannot understand. May we find comfort and hope in the Pascal mystery we are preparing to celebrate.

Jesus, hanging on the cross, gave voice to his anguish: Why have you abandoned me? Jesus rose in glory.

©2011 Mary van Balen

When in Creation

When in creation life is lost, the powers of God seem weak.
When young and old are swept away by rivers in the streets,
We seek the wisdom that ordained the sun to rule the day,
and pray to God that lives be saved and hope will find a way.

Where is the goodness of our God when seas force life to die?
Where is the powerful love of God when people hurt and cry?
Lord, how your wonders are displayed, wher e’er I turn my eye,
O God, our help in ages past, be with the world today.

How can the glory of our God be known through tragedy
When water, rock and sand be made to kill humanity?
While all that borrows life from you is ever in your care,
O God where were you on that day when darkness shook our sphere?

When in creation life is lost, we turn to God for peace,
And seek the one who came to serve the greatest and the least,
O Christ whose presence comes to us in the Spirit’s flowing power,
Abide with us and give us strength to face life’s darkest hour.
© Tommy Shephard

(The text incorporates lines from Isaac Watts’ 1715 text “I Sing the Mighty Power of God”)

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Thus says the Lord: ‘As the rain and the snow come down from the heavens and do not return without watering the earth, making it yield and giving growth to provide seed for the sower and bread for the eating, so the word that goes from my mouth does not return to me empty, without carrying out my will and succeeding in what it was sent to do.’
First Reading Isaiah 55:10-11

This passage always draws me in, speaking to my deepest self. Perhaps the imagery appeals to my love of snow, even in early spring, making an icy white stage for unfolding crocuses. The picture of nature’s lush response to April’s rains, holding the promise of blossoms and harvest in each green blade and clenched bud brings a smile and hope to my heart.

God’s Word is life-giving. Nothing, not even a closed or fearful heart can prevent it from filling the world with Grace. Like warming temperatures and longer days, God’s own life prevails. Nothing can keep flowers in the ground or leaves from unfurling on the web of tree branches once they feel the sun and drink the rains.

Karl Rahner said all grace is mediated…it comes to us through matter. Lent is a good time to train the eyes of our hearts to see God’s self giving all around us and to teach our souls to hope. God’s Word comes to us, and its
life giving breath will not be denied.
© 2011 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Br. Paul Jasmer OSB

PHOTO: NASA Eternal Spirit,
Life-Giver, Pain-Bearer, Love Maker,
Source of all that is and that shall be,
Father and Mother of us all,
Loving God, in whom is heaven:
The Hallowing of your Name echo through the universe!
The Way of your Justice be followed by the people of the world!
Your Heavenly Will be done by all created beings!
Your Commonwealth of Peace and Freedom sustain our hope and come on earth!
With the bread we need for today, feed us.
In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us.
In times of temptation and test, strengthen us.
From trials too great to endure, spare us.
From the grip of all that is evil, free us.
For your reign is the glory of the power that is love, now and forever. Amen.

Version of the Lord’s Prayer
Jim Cotter in the New Zealand Book of Common Prayer

In today’s gospel, Matthew 6:7-15, Jesus admonishes his disciples not to babble on and on when they pray as the pagans do. Since God already knows their needs, their prayer can be simple. Jesus then teaches them the prayer we call the “Our Father” or “The Lord’s Prayer.”

Years ago, while attending a writing workshop/retreat directed by Madeliene Le’Engle, I was introduced to the above version of the prayer as we gathered each evening to pray compline.

The New Zealand Prayer Book, He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa, was published in 1989 for the province of Aotearoa, New Zealand, and Polynesia, and incorporates Maori text and elements of indigenous culture, sensitivity to creation, and direct simplicity of language and expression. It has become a popular prayer book around the world.

The unique phrases and language served as a “whack on the side of the head,” helping me to look with fresh eyes at a prayer so often on my lips that its words tumble out without engaging my brain and more importantly, my heart.

I am not saying that every time I prayer the Our Father familiarity renders it simply a rote recitation, but there is something to be said for attempting to word this great mystery in a new way.

I particularly love the image of heaven being “in” God, and that of God’s name echoing through the universe. The choice of words brings the hallowing of God’s name into the never ceasing present.

Amine.
© 2011 Mary van Balen

PHOTOS: Mary van Balen For I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and you made me welcome; naked and you clothed me, sick and you visited me, in prison and you came to see me.”…And the King will answer, “I tell you solemnly, in so far as you did this to one of the least of these, you did it to me.”
Gospel Mt 25, 35-6; 40

This morning I craved something warm for breakfast along with morning tea.

“Too bad the waffle iron is gone,” I thought, almost able to taste the crunchy sweetness of the well-done pastry drizzled with maple syrup. I looked through the pantry for biscuit mix, the refrigerator for something to warm up. Nothing.

With resolve, I pulled the old stainless steel mixing bowl out of the cupboard below the counter and began to assemble ingredients for biscuits. They are not difficult to make: a little flour, salt, leavening, milk, and sugar tossed together then kneaded and patted into a soft pad of dough.

Ten minutes later, brown crusty biscuits easily broke apart revealing a fluffy white center begging for a drip of honey or smear of butter. Besides satisfying my craving, they filled the kitchen with the warm smell of “someone is home.”

Joy is often not found in complicated plans and labor intensive projects. Sometimes it comes with simplicity: warm biscuits, conversations with a friend, birdsong heard while taking out the trash, the earth sinking beneath one’s step after a spring thaw.

Today’s readings reminded me of simplicity. God’s precepts are not complicated. No intricate theological arguments or reasoning needed: Love God. Love you neighbor. Do good. Share what you have been given.

All today’s readings point to that truth. God does not desire fancy sacrifices, but rather reverence of one another and creation. We are not required to travel to earth’s ends or even the next city, but to show mercy and justice to our neighbors and those who are struggling.

Images of anguish from Japan played in my head as I munched my breakfast. I cannot share biscuits, but in today’s world, response that can send food and water to those suffering from the earthquake and tsunami is a click of a “donate” button away.

Caring for those closer to home requires time and human touch to mediate God’s love and concern.

Whatever we do to the least among us…

Holy One, help me embrace a way of life centered around your simple but profound truth: Love you neighbor and you love Me.

The precepts of the Lord are right,
they gladden the heart.
The command of the Lord is clear,
it gives light to the eyes.
Responsorial Psalm 18,9

© 2011 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen For thus says the Lord, the Holy One of Israel: ‘Your salvation lies in conversion and tranquility, your strength will come from complete trust.’ The Lord is waiting to be gracious to you, to rise and take pity on you, for the Lord is a just God. Happy are all who hope in him.
Noon reading (Sext) Isaiah 30:15,18

You will seek the Lord your God, and if you seek him with all your heart and with all your soul, you shall find him. In your distress, all that I have said will overtake you, but at the end of days you will return to the Lord your God and listen to his voice. For the Lord your God is a merciful God and will not desert or destroy you or forget the covenant he made on oath with your fathers.
Afternoon reading (None) Deuteronomy 4:29-31

I have written many times about struggling to grow into “complete trust,” as mentioned in the readings from today’s Liturgy of the Hours. As I ponder these words tonight, images of Japanese people huddled around fires and searching for food and water cycle over television news programs.

How does one find trust and tranquility in the midst of trials, whether those presented by daily life or those resulting from natural disasters? How does one maintain trust in a faithful God, always present, eager to be gracious?

I chose a photo of an ocean sunset to convey a sense of tranquility, but the ocean was a source of chaos and destruction just days ago. Life is unpredictable.

“If I knew all that life would have in store for me from the start,” an old friend of my mused this evening,” I might have decided to crawl back into the womb!”

We laughed, but knew that at some level, what she said was true. Some days, life’s challenges are overwhelming. Taking them day at a time may take all the faith and strength we have. Not knowing what the future holds is grace as well as mystery.

It allows for faith, enabling one to trust, to know tranquility even in the face of extreme trial. As the events of the past few days have made clear, despite our best efforts, we are not in control of our world or our lives. In a moment, plans can fall apart. At those moments, we realize we cannot rely on our efforts alone, or even the collective efforts of others. What enables us to continue is reaching deep within and holding fast to faith in the Presence of a merciful God who will not abandon us.

Carmelite poet, Jessica Powers, wrote of this faith in her poem “The Garments of God:”

God sits on a chair of darkness in my soul.
He is God alone, supreme in His majesty.
I sit at His feet, a child in the dark beside Him;
my joy is aware of His glance and my sorrow is tempted
to rest on the thought that His face is turned from me
He is clothed in the robes of His mercy, voluminous garments –
not velvet or silk and affable to the touch,
but fabric strong for a frantic hand to clutch.
and I hold to it fast with the fingers of my will.
Here is my cry of faith, my deep avowal
to the Divinity that I am dust.
Here is the loud profession of my trust.
I need not go abroad
to the hills of speech or the hinterlands of music
for a crier to walk in my soul where all is still.
I have this potent prayer through good or ill:
here in the dark I clutch the garments of God.

To believe in Holy Presence when events cry out that God must be absent or nonexistent requires faith strengthened by prayer and practice; by “seeking God with all your heart and all your soul.”

Lent reminds us of this need to nurture our faith and relationship with the Holy One. How we observe these forty days is our choice: We may give up something or we may incorporate some practice into our lives. We may attend Mass more frequently or volunteer in some community service. What we choose should be something that strengthens our faith, that brings us closer to living life with complete trust in God-with-Us, that better enables us to hear God’s voice and to instinctively “clutch the garments of God” and hold on tight.
© 2011 Mary van Balen

God come to my assistance. Lord make haste to help me.

Images on newscasts and online bring the widespread devastation ravaging Japan’s Northeastern coast into our homes and hearts, but I had another, more personal connection. On March 7, I stood in line at Tokyo’s Narita airport, buying boxes of green tea and a drink to keep me going until Delta Flight 620 would return me to the States through Minneapolis/St. Paul. Four days later, passengers on the same flight were among the last to depart Narita before the airport was closed down. I read they waited seven hours after boarding before the plane was given the go ahead to take off.

As I viewed video and listened to reports, I wondered about the young women who worked at the kiosk where I made my purchases and the crowds of travelers I had seen returning to their homes in Japan. How many of them were headed to the Northeast? What once would have been regarded as remote has been made more immediate through travel and technology. Some of the first images broadcast to the world were taken on cell phones. We no longer need spectacular photos of our planet from outer space to realize that we are one human race bound, one people of God.

As I prayed morning prayer and then searched through the Liturgy of the Hours and Mass readings to find something, some wisdom that spoke to the tragedy.I read and reread until suddenly becoming aware of the introductory prayer common to them all. An ancient prayer, it says it all, “Help!” in a more elegant, poetic way: “God come to my assistance. Lord, make haste to help me.”

I cannot imagine how those living in areas demolished by the quake and tsunami feel. What happens to one’s heart while looking at piles of debris that were once home and neighborhood? What happens to one’s faith when the closest sources of water, food, and shelter are miles and miles away?

After the first flood of gratitude that you are still alive, how do you face the future without becoming overwhelmed? With communication lines disrupted, what fear accompanies the long wait to hear from loved ones?

Another quote comes to mind, this time from St. Teresa of Avila (1515–1582)

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

There are many ways we can respond to the disaster that has befallen our sisters and brothers. Here are a few links to charitable organizations that are responding to this crisis:

Habitat for Humanity

Donate through Catholic Relief Services

Soles for Souls

© 2011 Mary van Balen