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.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen Today’s Old Testament reading is from Isaiah. We will hear much from Isaiah this advent season, and today’s passage (11.1-10) is an example of his confidence in God’s goodness and wonder at Divine glory. From the concrete image of a shoot sprouting from a stump, the prophet moves us to the infusion of the Spirit that will fill the One who comes. He will possess wisdom and will seek justice for the poor.

His kingdom is like no other, filled with glorious impossibilities:the wolf the guest of the lamb, the calf and young lion exploring together, the lion eating hay, a child playing in the cobra’s den.

If all these probable impossibilities are to come, is nothing impossible? All people living in peace? No wars? No hunger or famine? No abuse?

This morning, I want to believe, but my heart does not resonate with the joy of the verses. I look at my Christmas Cactus, ready to bloom in the midst of gray, rainy winter. Its magenta buds add a splash of color to the room, but I struggle to savor it.

“It is in the will, not the heart,” a friend of mine once said when we were both struggling with a dry spell of spirit. I remember her words today and choose to believe. I moved my plant to sit next to the advent “wreath,” both signs of promise and hope in its fulfillment. I sit in God’s Presence for a while, both of us comfortable with my silence; me not so comfortable with God’s. We rest together, and then I move into the rest of the day, choosing hope.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen This year my advent wreath is simple: blue candles in two glass candelabra from my parent’s home. I will add a few things as I unpack a holiday box, but simplicity remains the theme.. The old candelabra remind me of my parents’ waiting in hope for the birth of each of their children. I arrived after a number of miscarriages. The youngest was an emergency delivery and my father was told that likely neither mother or child would survive. They didn’t know my mother’s sheer willpower, and my brother inherited her tenacity. Both survived.

Each night as I light the candles, I will remember their faith, hope, and love, and bring it into my prayer. Dad’s recent death has left a hole in my heart. Thanksgiving was difficult for me this year. Christmas will be, too, I imagine, though I will have all my daughters home to celebrate.

In today’s Morning Prayer reading from Isaiah (43.1-3a) God reassures us: we are redeemed. God calls us by name and is with us when we walk through difficult times. Despite life’s changes, including the death of loved ones, this season speaks of hope. Candle flames illuminate darkness as God’s Presence fills the earth and our hearts.

Taking some time to be still each day allows us to become aware of that Divine Presence in and around us. The gospel from today’s Mass (Mk 13.33-37) recounts Jesus’ instruction to his disciples to “watch” and “Be alert!” Like servants taking care of their master’s estate while he is away, we are to remain watchful and prepared for his return.

What are we to watch for? This Advent, I am watching for God’s Presence already here in my life. Being present to the moment instead of planning ahead, going over Christmas lists in my mind while doing other things, or allowing myself to become too busy to be still with the Holy One.

When I am in my “wide awake” mode (as I tell students who want to wrtie) I notice all kinds of things and unlikely connections often come to mind.

For example, while driving to work today, I noticed some yellow cascading down toward the ground along the freeway. “Forsythia” was the first word to come to mind, though the next ones were “I’s late fall, Mary, not spring.” But the connection had been made. As I drove by the spot of color I saw it was made by yellowing ovate leaves clinging stubbornly to branches on a shrub. They did remind me of the yellow spring blossoms on curevd branched.

In the middle of fall and on the edge of winter, I saw spring and hope. I carried the image with me into the department store where I work and tried to remember it when blaring Christmas songs irritate or the consumerist rush overwhelms.

Advent: A time of hope and waiting. A time to Watch and Live Wide Awake. A time to give thanks for those whose lives have been like candles in our darkness.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen My day off. No alarm set. Still, I rose early, before much light filtered through the blinds. I slipped into some comfortable clothes, feeling for their familiar fabric rather than turning on lights that would shatter the calm of darkness. Jeans, I knew, hung over the back of the chair by my bed. A cotton T. A sueded jacket to ward off chill.

In the kitchen, I lifted the electric kettle to feel the weight of water it held. Enough for a mug of tea. I moved a beeswax candle from my office to the dining room table and lit it. The flame jumped erratically throwing out strobe-like flashes of light. Alternating bright and dark were distracting. I blew out the candle and had a look at the wick. It needed trimmed, and once relit, burned with the steady warm glow of beeswax.

I chose a favorite, round mug made by a potter in Woods Hole on the Cape, drawing sea, salt, and friends into my morning. Just enough dawn to allow me to pour boiling water over the tea bag and stop before it overflowed.

“Honey,” I thought. Usually, I drink tea black, but honey was right. Gifts of wax and sweetness from the work of thousands of industrious insects graced time to sit quietly in the Presence of the One who made them.

After sitting still for a while, I picked up the prayer book laying open and upside down on the table and moved the candle closer to help my aging eyes gather enough light to read.

“Sunday? I haven’t read from this since Sunday?”

Before reading the psalms for today, I looked at a reflection for yesterday’s gospel, written Paula Huston: A Fresh and Radical Way. In the gospel, Jesus told his followers that the Temple would be destroyed, not a stone left on a stone. The disciples were incredulous…and worried. No one, as Ms. Huston points out, wants to be caught off guard. We like to know what is coming and when so we can prepare for it.

Ah, but life does not unfold so neatly.

“But first the old order must die. Although they – and we- will no doubt tremble at the earth shattering demise of what we have tried so hard to understand and control, we are not in fear. For then our struggles to avoid suffering will be over. Then “there shall be no more death or mourning, waiting or pain,” and God…will blot the tears from our faces. (Rev 21.4).
Huston in “Give Us This Day,” Novemeber, 2011, p.235.

Do we all have some things we try to understand and control? Some things that cause us pain and that need to be let go? Don’t we all cling to idols, even when we know they take us further from the One we long for? Don’t some things, even good things, crumble for reasons we cannot fathom?

I answer “yes” to all of the above. Sitting in early morning darkness with those words drew me deeper into the Heart that holds me. “Trust,” I told myself. “Trust.”

Then Wednesday’s Scripture reading, Judith 9.11-12: “Your strength is not in numbers, nor does your might depend upon the powerful. Your are God of the lowly, helper of those of little account, supporter of the weak, protector of those in despair, savior of those without hope. Please, please…God of the heritage of Israel, Master of heaven and earth, Creator of the waters, King of all you have created, hear my prayer!

Another feeling. Anger. Anger at a Congress that cannot respond to the needs of those Judith prays for. The Super Committee failed to reach an agreement this week. No big surprise, but until the deadline passed, hope remained. Clinging to a pledge not to raise taxes, Republican members of the committee refused to consider any proposal that included increasing tax revenue. As often happens, the most vulnerable among us pay the price.

Anger threatened to take over the quiet. Judith must have been angry as well, when her people were threatened by invading Assyrians. In what looked like a hopeless situation, she remained hopeful. She relied on God and trusted in the Holy One’s Presence. Armed with prayer and faith, she walked into the enemy’s camp, and using an ingenious scheme, struck down their leader. She recognized the victory, not as her own, but as God’s.

In these days when financial failures shake economies around the globe, and when solutions are no where to be found, we can follow Judith’s example: Pray, trust, and act. She did not wait for God to turn the army away. She trusted God would be with her as she carried out her plan.

Daylight is coming through the windows. I leave the time of quiet and move into my day striving to let go of fear and anger and to hold on to hope and trust.

CONSTELLATION ORION Four saints are mentioned for remembrance today on Universalis The first, St. Elizabeth of Hungary was daughter of a king and became the loving wife of Ludwig, a count, and mother of three which is cause for sainthood itself. Ludwig supported what some considered her extravagant generosity to the poor and the sick. After her husband’s death, Elizabeth continued her life of service.

St. HIlda, also mentioned today, shared Elizabeth’s eagerness to reach out to all regardless of status. She is known as a woman of great learning and wisdom who was the founding abbess of the famous monastery of Whitby, a double monastery that had both women and men as members. They lived together in small houses of two or three people, and the men and women came together to worship. All types of people sought her out for guidance, including royalty. She gave freely of her gifts to all, and I imagine, teaching women to read and study Scripture, as well as to pray with it, was not common in her time.

She encouraged the man who cared for the animals, Caedmon, in his poetry and song. He became a brother at Whitby and is the first English poet that we know by name.

St Hugh of Lincoln is another mentioned today. He was a Carthusian at the monastery of La Grande Chartreuse until, asked by King Henry II of England, he became prior of a Carthusian house in England. Later he was named bishop, a position he accepted only when directed to do so by the abbot of La Grande Chartreuse. He worked with his hands helping to extend the cathedral building, but is known primarily for his commitment to justice and service to the poor.

These three saints stood out to me as I read readings from Amos for the Hours today. Amos was prophet in the 700’s BCE, when both Israel and Judah knew times of great prosperity and excess. The rich lived lavishly at the expense of the poor, and Amos spoke out forcefully against that, reminding them of God’s vengeance against those who do not keep his commands

Amos refers to God not as Lord of the Jewish people only, but as God of the universe. Some of the most poetic lines come from these descriptions:

He it was who formed the mountains, created the wind, reveals his mind to man, makes both dawn and dark, and walks on the top of the heights of the world; the Lord, the God of Hosts, is his name.Amos 4:13

He made the Pleiades and Orion, who turns the dusk to dawn and day to darkest night. He summons the waters of the sea and pours them over the land. ‘The Lord’ is his name.Amos 5:8)

He has built his high dwelling place in the heavens and supported his vault on the earth; he summons the waters of the sea and pours them over the land. ‘The Lord’ is his name.Amos 9:6

Being a night sky watcher, I particularly love the verse that reminds us that God created the universe and names Orion among the great constellations. Orion has been my companion for years, no matter where I lived. I could walk outside at night, look at the sky, and see Orion watching over me. He was my guardian and comfort when I was lonely or distressed. One view of that cluster of stars reminded me of the Holy Mystery that set the universe in motion. And I felt a small part of a bigger plan.

Today, we would do well to remember God’s care for the poor and commandment to care for them. At a time when some members of our “Super Committee” cannot agree on raising taxes as part of a fix for the economy, but insist instead on protecting the richest among us, Orion and the stars of the heavens remind us of the injustice of such a stance.

A friend invited me to attend the Niagra Foundation Peace and Dialogue Awards dinner last week. The Niagra Foundation has its roots in Chicago and began in 1997 as an educational outreach by Turkish-American academicians and business men offering tutoring in areas of math and science. The Foundation has grown over the years and, in Ohio, joined with the Scioto Educational Foundation, founded in 2003, to extend its outreach in the Midwest.

Like Niagra Foundation, Scioto Foundation’s primary mission is to promote global understanding through peaceful dialogue. Last week’s dinner honored four central Ohioans and organizations for their commitment to community service, education, and global understanding. What better way to spend an evening than celebrating with a diverse group of people the ideals of acceptance, dialogue, and service?

These groups and this evening celebrated shared values that bind us all together. In a world that often focuses on differences, this celebration reminded us of the need to look instead at what makes human beings the same no matter their race, culture, or religion. The night’s honorees were chosen for their work for the common good, whether through education, global awareness, community service, and leadership.

However, just as important as the awards was what happened around the tables and around the room that night. People of different nationalities, faith, and work talked, laughed and shared their stories. Professors, ministers, teachers, business people, office workers, and politicians shared food together.

As the evening came to an end, people reluctant to leave shared emails, phone numbers, and invitations for dinner at their homes. This was perhaps the greatest testimony to the success, step at a time, of these two Foundations. Coming as was said that night, from the heart of Turkey, they serve as an example to all of us of the possibilities that flow from commitment to understanding, acceptance, peace, and dialogue.

I encourage you to visit the websites of these two organizations. You may be surprised at the variety of opportunities these nonprofit groups offer to all: luncheons, lectures, interfaith dinners, morning conversations, community service. And the opportunity to develop friendships that span the globe, sharing what is most basic to all human beings: family, faith, community, and the common good. The way to peace is made with small steps. It is made through person to person interaction and service.

I am grateful to Niagra and Scioto Foundations for the inspiring evening that reminded me of this basic truth.