quiet prayer

January 16, 2020 By Mary van Balen 6 Comments

Finding Hope in 2020

photo of color lithograph by Maurice Denis 1870-1943 Shows Shows

The Pilgrims of Emmaus by Maurice Denis, French 1870-1943 Color lithograph
Photo: Mary van Balen

People long for hope, for peace, for cooperation. While some are bent on stirring up distrust, and spreading fear based on dividing the world into “us” and “them,” most of humankind is looking for a better way in 2020.

Many I talked with over the holidays desire an end to such divisiveness. Some Christmas cards I received included handwritten notes expressing that hope. How do we get there in the midst of issues facing us today? I don’t know. Looking at the big picture, I’m often at a loss.

I turned to the Scriptures, reading through the Roman lectionary’s January passages. One line from the first Letter of Saint John made me stop, not because it inspired, but because I didn’t understand what it was saying: “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like God, for we shall see God as God is.”

How can we become like God just by seeing the Holy One? I pulled commentaries off the shelf. Not much help.

So, I sat with it. I didn’t try to figure them out, just let the words sink in. That night, I wrote in my journal:

Slowly, God’s gaze draws forth in our souls the reflection of God that we are. Resting in that Presence, we become aware of the Holy One looking at us with love and recognition of God’s heart within our own.

I thought of loving looks from people in my life. Not a response to something you did, such a look simply celebrates the reality of you. When experienced, you know its power to help you become your best self.

I carried the scripture’s words around for another day and in the afternoon saw “It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” starring Tom Hanks as Fred Rogers. I was hesitant about an actor playing the iconic figure, but the story drew me in. I wasn’t disappointed.

No spoilers here. I’ll just say there was a lot in that movie about the power of being in the presence of Love.

As the packed theater slowly emptied, I walked down the steps, stopping as a woman in front of me helped a much older one navigate her descent. The middle-aged woman guided her friend to a walker that was sitting behind a row of seats at floor level.

“Go ahead,” she said to me, “This will take a while.”

“That’s ok,” I replied. “I’m not in a hurry.”

She smiled. “Well, how could you not be kind after watching that movie?” I nodded. “Fred Rogers is the closest person to Jesus Christ I’ve ever seen,” she said.

Her comments mingled with the words of Saint John: How could you not be kind after seeing that movie? Watching someone truly seeing, accepting, loving … it changes us. If seeing a movie could make folks a bit kinder, what happens when one “sees” God as God truly is?

And wasn’t watching the story of Fred Rogers caring about others also seeing a bit of God – God who lives and works in and through us? Isn’t that what we’ve been celebrating this Christmas season: the ongoing incarnation and our call to participate in it?

We become more like God the more we see God, the more God’s love moves through us. That’s where hope rests: in God’s transforming Love.

The First Letter of Saint John is full of reminders that we are called to love, that we cannot hate others and love God at the same time, that it isn’t enough to believe in the Christ. Our actions must mirror those of Jesus.

However we participate with it, however we speak truth to power, however we look at others with love and acceptance, we are participating in the work of healing and salvation. Hope is trusting God to make it enough.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: compassion, Fred Rogers, hope, Presence, quiet prayer, seeing, The Pilgrims of Emmaus, transforming love, trust

August 24, 2019 By Mary van Balen 10 Comments

Niksen: A Time for Be-ing

Woman in a chair looking out over a lake

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

There is a Dutch word for doing nothing: Niksen. I know this not because of my Dutch heritage but from an article that made its way to my email inbox.

What does it say about our modern sensibilities that an article about doing nothing and not feeling guilty about it was an internet hit? The value of multi-tasking is being reevaluated and the ability to say “no” to opportunities for going somewhere or doing something is beginning to look as desirable as saying “yes.” Perhaps we’re longing for some “be-ing,” not “do-ing,” time.

The contrast between “be-ing” and “do-ing” is nothing new. From high school days, I heard the phrase “Who you are is not the same as what you do.”

It made sense, but as life unfolded, allowing that truth to filter from head to heart wasn’t easy. In society’s eyes, one’s job reflects one’s worth: A professor is more important than the worker who maintains the school building. A mother who works outside the home is making a greater contribution than the one who chooses to work full time at home.

We value being busy. Our culture espouses achieving, earning what you get, and the idea that hard work brings success.

Not true. Some of the hardest working people aren’t successful in the eyes of our culture. They don’t make big bucks or hold prestigious positions. Sometimes they can’t make enough to meet basic needs. There are lots of realities besides work that factor into “success”: race, privilege, opportunity, socio-economic status, and just plain luck to name a few.

I emailed my cousin in the Netherlands to see what she thought about niksen and if, as the article suggested, it was a part of the Dutch culture. Jeanette responded quickly.

Talking about niksen was unfamiliar to her since it’s something the Dutch don’t think about a lot since it’s just part of their way of life. Unlike many Anglo-Saxon cultures, she said, they are not “ultra work focused.”

“What seems like the difference between our two cultures is that we take time to relax as a rule. We sit down for coffee in the mornings, lunch at lunchtime, and tea in the afternoons. Kids and teachers do the same in school. We incorporate moments free of duty into our days, and they work well for us.”

“Niksen isn’t planned. It is a way to feel free to stop doing things for a minute—or a little longer—and let your thoughts linger on,” she wrote.

It could be putting your feet up and doing nothing or watching rain pour down outside. It’s a bit of time to recuperate for ourselves.

Children can be a good example of that. One of my daughters recounted a morning she recently shared with a friend and two children.

American Dagger Moth caterpillar. Yellow with five bunches of long, black bristles.

American Dagger Moth caterpillar
Photo: Kathryn Holt

The children hurried through breakfast, looking forward to a promised time in the park. While there, they discovered a bright yellow caterpillar with five bunches of tall, black bristles. The kids were enthralled, and their enthusiasm was contagious. Soon the adults joined in, making little obstacle courses with sticks and leaves, clapping hands when the caterpillar went under rather than over, and apologizing when it fell from an offered stick.

Telling the story, my daughter’s eyes sparkled. “I was as excited as they were,” she said. “So much joy and fun just watching a caterpillar.” Sigh. “It was a wonderful little ‘vacation’ from my adult life.” Niksen.

I imagine that Jesus was good at niksen. Time alone in a boat on the lake or wandering in the wilderness wasn’t always filled with fasting, intense prayer, or planning his next move. I bet he spent plenty of time simply enjoying sunlight sparkling on water or watching clouds changing shape in the sky. From his stories we know he took time to gaze at flowers and observe nature. He liked kids and spent time with friends. The talk wasn’t always serious or the activity always purposeful. He let his thoughts wander and sipped tea or drank wine with friends. Simply resting in Grace. He was a “be-er” as well as a “do-er.”

It’s good to remember. Ecclesiastes says there is a time for everything under heaven. That includes niksen.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment, The Scallop Tagged With: be-ing, grace, Niksen, present to the moment, quiet prayer, re-creation, spirituality

March 20, 2019 By Mary van Balen 11 Comments

Tea, Haiku, and a Walk in the Woods

To celebrate this first day of Spring, the Vernal Equinox, I gave myself the gift of a slow morning and filled it with tea, haiku, and a walk in the woods.

First, I poured myself a cup of tea, brewed from fresh ginger root and soft, sweet Medjool dates, as my Korean friend had taught me. Then, I opened a slim, old book of poetry, Haiku Harvest. I bought it when I was in high school and quickly fell in love with the old haiku masters’ elegant simplicity of word and wisdom. Finally, having nourished body and soul, I set out for a walk, stopping first at a patch of snowdrops and slightly spent winter aconite and then making my way to a small nearby woods.

Snowdrops and winter aconite PHOTOS: Mary van Balen

Small green sprout pushing up through last years brown leaves

A small bit of green pushing up through last years leaves

HE IS UNKNOWN

THE POET WHO SINGS

THIS GREATEST

OF ALL SONGS — SPRING!

Shiki

HONKING WILD GEESE COME

SCRAWLING DELIGHT

IN SPRING’S COLD

PALE MORNING SUNLIGHT

So-In

I didn’t hear any honking geese this morning, but the woods were filled with chickadees flitting form tree to tree, dipping and singing spring songs. The woodpeckers remained hidden, but I could hear their calls and hollow drumming on dead tree trunks.

IN MY HOUSE THIS SPRING

TRUE, THERE IS NOTHING,

THAT IS,

THERE IS EVERYTHING!

Sodo

In the woods, tiny green leaves appear sprouting from last year's growth.

Spring greening

OUT OF ONE WINTERY

TWIG, ONE BUD,

ONE BLOSSOM’S WORTH

OF WARMTH AT LONG LAST!

Ransetsu

UNDER A SPRING MIST,

ICE AND WATER

FORGETTING

THEIR OLD DIFFERENCE…

MY HORSE CLIP-CLOPPING

OVER A FIELD…

OH HO!

I’M PART OF THE PICTURE!

Basho

And so we are…

Happy Spring!

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: creation, Grace in the Moment, Haiku, hope, love, mercy, present to the moment, quiet prayer, spring, Vernal Equinox, wild flowers, woods

March 8, 2019 By Mary van Balen 6 Comments

Now Is the Acceptable Time

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

While reading some reflections by Richard Rohr on the presence of Christ in creation from the beginning, I was struck by the phrase “Christ-soaked world.” It brought to mind two Scripture readings from Paul used for the beginning of Lent: one from 2Corinthians and the other from Romans. In both, he draws from Hebrew Scriptures, and in both, reminds us of the immediacy of God’s presence.

“In an acceptable time I heard you / and on the day of salvation I helped you…” (Isaiah 49) “Now is an acceptable time,” Paul writes is 2Corinthians. “Now is the day of salvation.” Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Now. This moment. Every moment. Because God has always “heard” and has always “helped.” From before time. That is who God is. Presence. Love. Always given. We didn’t miss it. We don’t have to wait for it. It is always poured out in and through us and creation.

In Romans Paul reminds us: “What does Scripture say? /The word is near you, / in your mouth and in your heart.” (Deuteronomy 30) God assures those listening that what is commanded is not a mystery or far away. “It is not in up in the sky, that you should say, ‘Who will go up in the sky to get it for us and tell us of it, that we may carry it out?’” It isn’t across the sea either. “No, it is something very near to you already in your mouths and in your hearts. You have only to carry it out.”

We may forget this. The Pharisees did. They didn’t recognize God in Jesus let alone the tax collectors and “riffraff” he hung out with. They expected to find God in “holier” places. The temple. The people who kept all the laws. People like themselves. Jesus confounded them with his insistence of spending time with the poor and marginalized, with his talk of God’s care for sparrows and stories of rejoicing over finding a lost coin or wandering sheep. Surely the Holy One was more discriminating than that!

No, not really. God is constantly giving Godself away because that’s what Love does. The incarnation in Jesus didn’t happen because people had made such a mess of things that only the sacrifice of his life could appease an angry God. No. As the thirteenth century Franciscan theologian, John Duns Scotus taught, Christ was always the plan.

Jesus showed us to what lengths Love would go, not to atone for sins or to be a scapegoat, but to be Love’s heart and human face on this planet. “See, this is how much I love you,” he said with arms outstretched on the cross.

These readings, reminders that God lives not far away but in the depths of our hearts at this very moment, set the tone for the Lenten journey. It’s not necessarily about giving up favorite foods or candy (though I wouldn’t mind losing a few pounds) or reading more Scripture, though it could be.

Lenten practice, whatever we choose, is about helping us grow in our trust that divine Love truly does live within us—not somewhere in the sky or across the sea. Lent is a time to listen. To discover what helps us deepen our relationship with God and to do it.

The focus is not personal salvation. It never was. It’s about becoming an uncluttered conduit of love and care for others and all creation. Jesus shows us that we are part of Christ and the work of “soaking the earth” with Love and Presence. As Isaiah tells us, the fast God wants is freeing the oppressed and unjustly bound, sharing our bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and homeless, taking care of the other. (Isaiah 58)

This is the work Lent prepares us to do by reminding us to deepen our relationship with the Holy One who dwells within. Trusting it. Drawing our strength and hope from Love so we can be faithful to our part of Love’s transforming the earth.

This season invites us to take a breath, to nurture our spirits, mind, and body for this work. Now is the acceptable time.

Jesus’ life and eventual death attest to the struggle and danger of being radical love in a world that isn’t ready for it. But, as part of the Christ, that is our call.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: acceptable time, creation, faith, grace, Incarnation, John Duns Scotus, lent, love, Presence, quiet prayer, the Christ, trust

November 12, 2018 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Thomas Keating and Centering Prayer

I’m not sure when I began reading books by Thomas Merton. Probably late high school or early college. I’m also not sure how I discovered them. Though I was naturally drawn to contemplative prayer, the word was unfamiliar to me until Merton’s writings provided it. “Contemplative” was not something you heard about sitting in the pews on Sundays or even in religion classes. Not usually. Reflecting on that later, I never understood why. Christianity has a long, rich contemplative tradition.

Hunger for deeper prayer experience

Some of my friends from those early days, searching as college students do and longing for an alternative to rote prayers and rituals that, for them, had become mindless habit, explored meditation found in Eastern traditions. They hungered for a deeper relationship with God.

A way to sink deeply into that relationship is contemplative prayer. Not reserved for “special” people or for a few “advanced” souls as sometimes thought, it is simply resting in silence with the loving God who dwells within each of us.

I was lucky to find not only Thomas Merton, but also a small community that introduced me to classics in Christian literature like Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross and provided a vocabulary to talk about contemplative prayer. What a gift it was to finally have others with whom to pray and share the journey.

Later, I found the Desert Fathers and Mothers, The Cloud of Unknowing (written by an anonymous 14^th century English monk), John Cassian, Julian of Norwich, and other mystical writers. I had begun to practice Lectio Divina and realized that my longtime journaling was part of my contemplative prayer journey (something I love to share at retreats and workshops). Time spent with Benedictine monks and sisters broadened and deepened my prayer experience.

The hunger for contemplative prayer among many Christians remains as deep as ever. Even if it’s not talked about much in parishes, there are many resources available today.

What prompted me to reflect on this was the passing on October 25 of Fr. Thomas Keating, at age 95. He is likely the most well-known Trappist monk since Merton. Keating is recognized for his development and promotion (along with others including M. Basil Pennington and William Meninger) of the centering prayer method of Christian meditation.

Beginnings of Centering Prayer

This prayer practice began in the 1970s at Saint Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer Massachusetts where Keating was abbot for twenty years. It was a prompted by conversations with young Christians, who, like my college friends, were seeking a prayer path that was meditative and transformative. They stopped by the Abbey to ask directions to a Buddhist meditation center that had been opened nearby in what once had been a Catholic retreat house. When Keating asked the young searchers why they didn’t look for a path in the Christian tradition, their answer was the same as my friends’ might have been: There’s a Christian path?

Keating talked to the monks at the Abbey about developing a method of meditation—based on Scripture and Christian tradition—that would be accessible to anyone, those beyond the monastery walls as well as inside them. The result is what is now known as Centering Prayer.

Resources

There are many resources available if you are interested in learning more about it; here are a few: Open Mind, Open Heart by Keating; Finding Grace at the Center by Thomas Keating, M. Basil Pennington, OCSO and Thomas E. Clark, SJ.; Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening by Episcopalian priest Cynthia Bourgeault. The Contemplative Outreach, an organization Keating founded in 1984, has a website full of information and resources. Some parishes have Centering Prayer groups that meet weekly.

Centering Prayer is not the only way to practice and nurture one’s contemplative life. As Fr. Keating wrote in a selection found on the Contemplative Outreach website addressing different approaches to meditative prayer: “In Buddhism there are a wide variety of methods (perhaps techniques would be a better designation). Why shouldn’t Christians have a few?”

There are more than a few! If you find yourself drawn to contemplation, Centering Prayer is one method to consider. It is popular, accessible, and practiced by hundreds of thousands around the globe.

Thank you, Fr. Keating.

Originally published is similar format in The Catholic Times 11.11.18

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: Centering Prayer, contemplation, prayer, quiet prayer, spirituality, Thomas Keating, Thomas Merton

June 4, 2018 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Join Us for a Retreat: Journeys of Compassion

By Richard Duarte Brown

In these times when divisiveness and fear of the “other” is on the rise, nurturing our sense of compassion is increasingly important. It isn’t easy, though. Blame. Anger. Shutting people out. These responses may rise more quickly than a compassionate one.

Join me and international retreat presenter, Rick Hatem, for a retreat, Journeys of Compassion: A Response to Life’s Challenges and Opportunities, on Friday, June 29 from 7-9pm and Saturday, June 30, from 9am-4pm at the Martin de Porres Center, 2330 Airport Drive, Columbus, OH 43219.

Saturday’s retreat will complement the Friday evening reflections, but both sessions are complete in themselves.

Friday – Begins with quiet prayer and then using art and story, Rick and Mary will invite you to reflect on the “others” in our lives and in the world and how we can open our hearts to meet them.
Saturday – In addition to presentations and discussion, will include time for individual reflection and small-group sharing. There will also be an opportunity to hear about each other’s experience in the larger group. Optional: half-hour quiet prayer after lunch before the afternoon session.To register contact Rick: rickhatem@gmail.com Mary: maryvanbalen@gmail.com Pre-payment by check or credit card – All types of payment accepted at the retreat – Some scholarships available

Rick Hatem

Rick Hatem moved to Jerusalem in 1986 to work for peace with Palestinians and Israelis, engaging in dialogue with Jews, Muslims & Christians. His long involvement with l’Arche* began when he heard its founder, Jean Vanier, speak in Bethlehem in 1987. Rick joined the Bethlehem community, and when it closed in 1991, he returned to the U.S. and continued working with l’Arche in New York, Canada, and as a regional leader in the U.S., as well as by serving as a member of la Ferme Spirituality Center for three years in Trosly, France. Rick has worked as a spiritual director with the Henri Nouwen Society, the Spirituality Network, and other groups. He has led retreats in North America and Europe.

Mary van Balen is the author of four books, numerous articles, and has written the column “Grace in the Moment” for over 31 years. She holds an MA in Theology and was a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute for Ecumenical & Cultural Research. Mary conducts retreats on topics including journaling and spirituality. She is a spiritual director, having completed the Spiritual Guidance Program at the Shalem Institute. Also an educator, Mary has worked as a classroom teacher, an enrichment consultant, and an adjunct instructor of theology. She has worked with abused women and single mothers in a federally funded poverty program for family literacy.

* L’Arche is French for “the ark.” In 1964 a Canadian, Jean Vanier, began a home called l’Arche in northern France. He welcomed two men with developmental disabilities to create home with him in the spirit of the beatitudes. Since then l’Arche has grown into an international federation of 150 communities in 40 countries. L’Arche continues to create community with men and women with developmental disabilities and those who live and work with them. L’Arche is ecumenical, shaped and guided by the major Christian denominations. Internationally l’Arche is multi-faith. There are 18 l’Arche communities in the U.S. including one in Cleveland, Ohio. The last 10 years of Henri Nouwen’s life were in l’Arche near Toronto.

Filed Under: The Scallop, Widening Our Circles Tagged With: acceptance, compassion, grace, humility, inclusion, mercy, quiet prayer, retreat on compassion, spirituality

April 5, 2018 By Mary van Balen 2 Comments

Easter is More than History

Bouquet of bright flowers and cobalt blue glass water jug on table

Photo: Mary van Balen

Originally published in The Catholic Times, April 8, 2018

After the Resurrection, Jesus appeared over and over again to those who were closest to him. The gospel readings this week and through Sunday tell the stories. The women were the first to see him.

In Matthew’s gospel Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and John walked in the early morning to the tomb. They were the brave ones who watched the angel appear like lightening, roll back the stone, and sit on it, frightening the Roman guards into a death-like stupor. They listened to the angel and hurried to tell the disciples what they had seen and heard. On their way, Jesus appeared to them, calmed their fears, and told them to instruct the disciples to meet him in Galilee.

In Luke’s gospel, the women were again the first at the tomb. They saw it was empty and spoke to the messengers of God about what had happened. The women told Simon and John who thought their story was nonsense, though Peter went to check it out and saw the empty tomb just as the women had reported.

In John’s gospel, Mary Magdalene walked to the tomb alone, and seeing it was empty hurried to tell Peter and John. They ran to the tomb and saw it was as Mary had described. John noticed the neatly folded cloth that had covered Jesus’ face and believed. The men returned home, but Mary remained, weeping in her grief. She entered the tomb, spoke with the angels who appeared to her, and then turned around. She saw Jesus, though she didn’t recognize him until he called her name. He instructed her to tell the others that she had seen him and to share what he had said to her. Mary was the first entrusted with the Good news of the resurrection. The first to proclaim it to the others.

Jesus continued to appear to his disciples. He walked with two travelers on the road to Emmaus who didn’t recognize him until they broke bread together.

He appeared on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias where some of his disciples had been fishing all night, to no avail. His instructions led them to an extravagant catch, and they shared breakfast on the beach. Jesus moved through locked doors where his followers were gathered in fear and confusion. He blessed them with peace and breathed the Spirit into them with his own breath. He ate with them, showed them his wounds, and later invited Thomas to put his fingers into them so he would believe.

Who do you identify with as you ponder these different accounts? Mary Magdalene who recognized Jesus when he called her name? The brave women, fearful yet persistent as they watched the angels and then met Jesus while on their way to tell the others? Or are you more a skeptical Peter and John? Disciples who just couldn’t fathom the truth of what was being said? Would you recognize the risen Jesus or think he was a ghost? Or maybe you’d be a Thomas who needed physical proof before he’d believe.

We have the advantage of hindsight. I’d like to imagine I’d be like the brave women, bearing the light of angels, listening through my fear, and proclaiming the resurrection. I’m not so sure. I would more likely have been found behind locked doors worrying about what was next.

Reflecting on these readings and placing ourselves in the scenes can be a good meditation but pondering where we encounter the suffering and the risen Christ today in our world is also important. Do we recognize the Divine in others? What opens our eyes? Do we see the wounds of Jesus in the wounds of others? In ourselves? When we do see, how do we respond?

What we celebrate is not simply history. Easter is not only an event. It is a way of living. It is Divine activity that reverberates through time and space and all creation. And we are part of it.

We are called to follow Jesus’s example in our world. To stand with the suffering. To embrace hurt and woundedness in others and in ourselves with God’s transforming love.

Jesus was murdered because he was faithful to being the Love of God on a planet that just couldn’t handle it. But that wasn’t the end of the story. Love is dangerous. It is hard. But in the end, it prevails!

Blessed Eastering!

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: compassion, Easter, faith, Grace in the Moment, inclusion, justice, love, mercy, quiet prayer, spirituality, spring

April 4, 2018 By Mary van Balen 4 Comments

Snowy Morning Prayer

Yes, 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. Isaiah 55, 10-11

Amen!

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: creation, grace, Grace in the Moment, present to the moment, quiet prayer, spirituality, spring snow

November 10, 2017 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Thankful for the Gift of Presence

Originally published in The Catholic Times November 12, 2017

November 9 is the feast of the dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome, the official church of the Pope. The Mass readings for that day, not surprisingly, have to do with temples of one sort or another. The first reading is from Ezekiel 47, but let’s start a bit earlier in the book.

Rendering of Ezekiel's temple by Henery Sulley (1845-1940)

Ezekiel’s temple by Henery Sulley (1845-1940) Public Domain

In chapters 40-48 of Ezekiel, the prophet describes a vision where God transports him to a high mountain in Israel, and an angel gives him a tour of a new city. The vision is long and full of details: precise measurements of walls, inner courts, outer courts, door jambs, and Temple outbuildings, as well as the new Temple itself. Ezekiel witnesses the glory of God returning to fill the Temple, and God tells him that it again will be the Divine dwelling place in the midst of the people.

In addition to seeing the physical structures, Ezekiel learns the rules for those who serve in the Temple, how land is to be appropriated, how feasts are to be observed, and a list of protocols and procedures for Temple worship and sacrifices and that would make a Royal event planner’s head spin.

As I read these verses, I was glad it was Ezekiel and not me who had been instructed to remember every detail so he could share them with the exiled Israelites when he returned to them in Babylon. They had pretty much lost hope. Jerusalem had fallen, and despite the prophet’s valiant efforts to help them recognize that its destruction was imminent, many had clung to the illusion that Jerusalem would survive and they would go back home, resuming life as usual. I can identify. It’s a human tendency to ignore signs that portend the coming of something calamitous or the slow creep of something bad.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Next comes the description of the spring in the Temple. That’s the first reading for November 9. It’s abbreviated in the lectionary (To get the full effect, I suggest reading all the first twelve verses.), but it’s still a magnificent image. A stream begins in the Temple, runs under the threshold, and flows to the Dead sea, swelling into a river too deep for anyone to cross.

When it reaches the sea, it makes the salt water fresh, teeming with all kinds of fish and water creatures. People flock there with nets. Wherever the river flows, it brings life and healing. Trees along its bank produce new, delicious fruit every month. Even their leaves are medicinal. All this because it is God’s life flowing from the sanctuary.

When I read these words, I wanted to jump in! I wanted to splash through the river and sink beneath the water, let it do its healing, and then burst up through the surface full of hope, energy, and joy, free of the worries and concerns that fill my heart. Perhaps that’s how the Israelites felt when they listened to Ezekiel recount the story.

The good news is that God doesn’t dwell in temples or churches. Paul writes to the Corinthians, and to us, that we are the temples of God. (1 Cor 3, 16-17) The Spirit lives in each of us, neighbor and stranger alike. The glorious, healing, life-giving Presence that Ezekiel sees coming from the Temple, flows in and through all, gracing the people and places it touches. We don’t have to look for that river streaming down from the city on a hill; that “river” is everywhere. We can sink into Holy Presence wherever we are. Incarnation means God has entered into the matter of creation. We are immersed in that Presence whether we realize it or not. Open to it, Grace transforms us and all it touches. We can move into our deepest center and meet God there.

God is truly with us: strength in our struggles, joy in our celebrations, hope when we are tempted to despair. God walks with us when we are afraid, offers rest when we have worn ourselves out, waits when we are too busy to notice, fills what is empty, mourns with us in our grief, and sits with us when we don’t know what else to do.

The last words in Ezekiel, naming the new city, sum up this wondrous reality: “The name of the City shall henceforth be ‘The Lord is here.’” (48, 35)

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: creation, Ezekiel's Temple vision, faith, grace, Grace in the Moment, hope, love, mercy, Presence, quiet prayer, Spirit

May 11, 2017 By Mary van Balen 1 Comment

Rain—An Icon of Grace

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Originally published in The Catholic Times, May 14, 2017

Rain pelted the windows as I fell asleep one Friday night this spring. Thunder rumbled in the distance, occasionally exploding through the thick sky, rattling the window beside my bed. I’ve always loved thunder storms, especially at night when I have nothing else to do but listen and watch for lightning flashes that brighten the darkness for a moment or two.

When I awoke late the following morning, rain was still falling, and heavy clouds shuttered the sky making the house dark enough that I lit a candle for prayer time. Rain drops became my centering “word” as I tried to quiet my mind and simply sit with God. That’s never easy. Managing a minute or two out of twenty without thoughts crashing around in my head is a success. I trust the Holy One appreciates the effort.

But that Saturday morning, rain made a difference. After a while it became an icon of Grace, falling steadily on the world, replenishing Life’s Gift that flows through all creation. I sat for a long time, moving in and out of quiet, trying to be present enough that some of that Gift could find a place in me.

The image of Grace raining down on the world stayed with me all day. I remembered times of exhilaration, running out in a downpour, getting soaked, and tilting my head up towards the sky with my mouth open trying to taste the drops. I also remembered making mad dashes from car to door, trying to avoid rain altogether.

Saturday came and went, but as the new week moved along, the image raised questions. How eagerly do I embrace Grace given. Do I stand with arms outstretched and heart open? Do I let it drench me? Do I stop and listen, no matter where I am or what I’m doing? Do I welcome it in and let it flow out? Or am I too busy, too distracted by noise to hear?

If so, the morning rain said not to worry. Grace is always falling.

Photo of a heavy rain falling on waterlilies on lake at St. Johns

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

I remembered a few favorite scripture verses that speak about rain and God’s provident care:

For just as from the heavens/ the rain and snow come down/ And do not return there/ till they have watered the earth, /making it fertile and fruitful, /Given seed to those who sow/ and bread to those who eat, / so shall my word be/ that goes forth from my mouth;/ It shall not return to me void, /but shall do my will, /achieving the end for which I sent it. Is 55, 10-11

These words bring hope that God’s Spirit, falling into my deepest places, flows through me as I go about my days, helping me do the work, knowingly or not, that I am made to do.

Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving; / with the lyre make music to our God, /Who covers the heavens with clouds, / provides rain for the earth, / makes grass sprout on the mountains… Ps 147, 7-8

How important to nurture a grateful spirit, to give thanks for the outpouring of Grace that never stops, recognized or not.

Let us know, let us strive to know the Lord; /whose coming is as certain as the dawn, /and whose judgement shines forth like the light of day! /The Lord will come to us like the rain/like spring rain that waters the earth. Hosea 6, 3

Trusting that God’s coming “is as certain as the dawn” is difficult when the earth of our hearts is parched or when suffering and injustice in the world overwhelms. Concerns of the heart can tempt it to close in upon itself, to keep Grace running down the outside instead of pouring in.

I have a photo of a rainy afternoon outside the apartment I stayed in one summer during a writing workshop in Minnesota. I think I’ll make a print of it and keep close by—an icon of never-ending Grace and Presence.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: creation, grace, hope, icon, love, mercy, prayer, Presence, quiet prayer, rain, spring, unconditional love