To Live Justly, To Love
October 27, 2020 By 3 Comments

To Live Justly, To Love

Painting by Laurie VanBalen, Project Director and Producer of Columbus Crossing Borders Project

The Scripture readings for Sunday, November 25, and Pope Francis’s new encyclical, Fratelli Tutti, share major themes that speak to current global and national issues. The texts clearly place this call front and center: Love and care for our neighbors (that’s everyone) and the common good, and turn from “idols” that hinder us from doing so.

Exodus reminds us that the poor, marginalized, and vulnerable among us deserve special respect and care. This is not an option. This is not charity. It is justice required by a compassionate God. When they are mistreated, God hears their cries.

The pandemic has highlighted the inability of the global community to work together to address the crisis. It has revealed failures and fissures in this country’s polices, institutions, and lack of will when it comes to justice and providing for those living on the edges.

Pope Francis introduces the social encyclical’s first chapter, “Dark Clouds Over a Closed World,” saying he intends “…simply to consider certain trends in our world that hinder the development of universal fraternity” (9). [Numbers after Fratelli Tutti quotes indicate the paragraph in the document where they are found.]

His list of concerns includes a throwaway world where “Some parts of our human family, it appears, can be readily sacrificed for the sake of others considered worthy of a carefree existence. Ultimately, persons are no longer seen as a paramount value to be cared for and respected, especially when they are poor and disabled, ‘not yet useful’ – like the unborn, or ‘no longer needed’ – like the elderly” (18).

Among other topics addressed in this section are the pandemic (32), loss of a sense of history that leads to “new forms of cultural colonization” (14), the spreading of despair and discouragement and using extremism and polarization as political tools (15), unequal respect of universal human rights (22), the fading sense of being part of a “single human family” (30), and poor treatment of migrants crossing borders around the world (37).

In Sunday’s gospel from Luke, Jesus elevates the call to love and care for our neighbors. When asked what the greatest command was, he had two, not one: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. Everything, he said, depends on these two.

Chapter Two of Fratelli Tutti reflects on perhaps the most well-known parable in the New Testament: The Good Samaritan. Francis warns against the danger of hypocrisy evidenced by the priest and Levite, who passed the injured man without stopping to help: “It shows that belief in God and the worship of God are not enough to ensure that we are actually living in a way pleasing to God (74).” He encourages readers to start small, acting at local levels and then moving out to needs in their countries and in the world. “Difficulties that seem overwhelming are opportunities for growth, not excuses for a glum resignation that can lead only to acquiescence” (78).

Detail from The Good Samaritan by Vincent van Gogh

He writes forceful words about the Samaritan caring for the injured man and what that example means for us:

 “… it leaves no room for ideological manipulation and challenges us to expand our frontiers. It gives a universal dimension to our call to love, one that transcends all prejudices, all historical and cultural barriers, all petty interests” (83).

In Sunday’s second reading, St. Paul praises the Thessalonians in part for turning away from idols to serve the true God. When reading about idols in Scripture, I don’t always make the connection to the idols in my life. It’s tempting to relegate them to earlier eras and the worship of statues or images.

But certainly, this age has its idols that get in the way of serving God and joining in the work of bringing God’s kingdom.

Everything, then, depends on our ability to see the need for a change of heart, attitudes and lifestyles.

Pope Francis Fratelli Tutti

Fratelli Tutti makes numerous references throughout to what I would call “idols” today: aggressive nationalism, limitless consumption, individualism, wealth, control, and self-interest to name a few.

Francis sees hope in the midst of the gloom – in willingness to dialogue and engage in genuine encounter, in the desire to love. God has placed goodness in the human heart, and many go about their ordinary days trying to be true neighbors, remembering no one is saved alone; we share the same hope; we sail in the same boat.

These readings and this encyclical are deeply challenging, if we take them seriously. In these times, how can we not? As Pope Francis writes, “Everything, then, depends on our ability to see the need for a change of heart, attitudes and lifestyles” (166).

©2020 Mary van Balen

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The Challenge of this Special Time
September 24, 2020 By 10 Comments

The Challenge of this Special Time

Musée d’Orsay, Paris
Photo: Mary van Balen

In a recent letter, a Trappist monk who has been my friend for decades, wrote this to me: “It is a special time to be living and praying…” This simple phrase immediately went to my heart. It seemed true, with a depth of meaning I would lean into in the days ahead.

My friend is right. These are difficult times with crises on multiple fronts: coronavirus, political upheaval, racism laid bare, climate change, anger, fear, distrust, hatred.

He could have written that these are terrible times to be living through, dangerous and scary—also true. But he didn’t. He said they were special times to be living and praying. The power of that phrase lies in its implication of responsibility. We are living now, in the midst of national and global turmoil and a once in a century pandemic. And because we are here, we are the ones who must do something about it. Living and praying deeply.

The author of Ecclesiastes writes that all is vanity. That there is nothing new under the sun. That what is now has been before and will be again. It’s the long view of human history, and in many ways, it is true. Strife and struggle have always been part of life. Our time on the earth is short. When death comes, the world continues to turn, as impossible as that seems in the midst of fresh, anguished grief.

Yet, here we are. Living. With choices to make, in this particular time in history. Choices, big and small, that will, for good or ill, make a difference. The fate of humanity, of this earth, is not written in the stars, something pre-determined that we watch come around and go away and come around again. The incarnational aspect of our faith says differently. We are not bystanders; we are partners in bringing the kingdom. 

Every person makes a difference. Each one has the call, the gift, to transform the world in some way by being faithful to and sharing the bit of Divinity that lives within. Every act or omission matters.

Ecclesiastes also says there is a time for every thing under the heavens: to be born, to die; to plant, to harvest; to weep, to laugh. The list is long.

What is it time for, now? What do these days demand? What cries out from that biblical list? A time to heal, a time to build, a time to gather stones together. It is a time to discern what to keep and what to cast away – there is much that needs to be cast away. It is not a time to be silent. It is a time to speak. And surely it is time to love in the midst of hate.         

And how will we help these things happen?

My friend’s deceptively simple words suggest living and praying. Not in a superficial way. Living actively in the moment. Praying with our actions. But also finding strength in prayer that connects us to the Presence of Love within that sustains and does the heavy lifting.

To authentically live and to pray in these times is challenging. Again, some biblical wisdom:

Paul writes to the community of Corinth about eating meat that had been sacrificed to idols. In the U.S., not something we deal with every day. (Though what modern “idols” do we worship that demand the sacrifice of lives and health of “essential workers” who harvest our food and process our meat?)

Paul says, “I will never eat meat again, so that I may not cause my brother to sin.” It’s not his response to a dilemma of his age that speaks to me; it’s his reason – a profound love and concern for the other and the willingness to sacrifice some part of his own comfort for them.

Again, this time to the Philippians, Paul writes of putting others first: “Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not only for their own interest, but also for those of others.”

And, of course, the life of Jesus, who gave everything he had, even his life, showing us what Love looks like.

My friend’s words have become questions: How will I live? How will I pray, in this special time?

© 2020 Mary van Balen

Pray as though everything depended on God. Work as though everything depended on you.

St. Augustine
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No Matter How Small, Everything Matters
May 15, 2020 By 14 Comments

No Matter How Small, Everything Matters

Collier’s Cranes, Gates Atrium, MIT PHOTO: Mary van Balen

These days of pandemic are challenging in a myriad of ways. One is the dilemma of finding a way to respond. What can I do in the face of this? How can I help? Answers to these questions may be difficult to find. I offer this example.

Sometime in the past couple of weeks, a load of stress burst from wherever I had hidden it and overwhelmed me. When friends asked how I was doing, I usually had answered “fine.” After the initial shock of the pandemic and fear of contracting COVID-19 (I’m in a vulnerable demographic), I thought I was dealing with the situation pretty well.

I was, and then suddenly I wasn’t. Just like that. Working from home, I couldn’t focus. Talking with my daughters and friends flooded me with desire to see them, hug them, or share a meal. Of course, I couldn’t. Tears surprised me at odd times, like while I was folding towels or making dinner.

Instead of taking life one day at a time, I spent time wondering about the future. When will I feel safe going outside, visiting family and friends, or sitting in a favorite restaurant? There’s no going back to “normal.” Will we emerge with a heightened sense of interdependence with one another and our planet? Will we be willing to make changes required for a more just and sustainable future? No answers.

I ended up washing the floors in my apartment. People who know me well will surmise the level of stress. Housecleaning is near the bottom of my priority list. If I’m cleaning, either company is coming or I’m dealing with something.

In this case, it was my sinking spirit.

So, last night, I listened to my heart instead of my head, which was telling me to get to work on my column or clean off the table. My heart, on the other hand, pleaded with me to stay put on the sofa, smartphone in hand, where I was singing along with videos of Peter Seeger and the Weavers from their 1980 reunion at Carnegie Hall.

The concert was pure joy. When Pete threw his head back and belted out the song “Wimoweh,” his energy surged right out of the phone. (If you’re don’t remember the older versions of the song, you’ll remember it from The Lion King.)

Moving from song to song, I ended with the one that closed the concert: Good Night Irene. Slower. Softer. It was perfect.

Cheers and applause exploded in the packed hall, washing over the performers who returned the sentiment by standing and clapping for the audience. Love wrapped everyone in a long embrace. Me included. It didn’t matter that I was listening decades later, and hundreds of miles removed. Time and space can’t keep Love contained. Once it’s loose in the universe, it doesn’t end. It expands. It heals. It gives hope.

The Weavers and those who had travelled from around the country to attend that concert felt the power of love that evening. But they couldn’t’ possibly have known that forty years later, in the midst of a pandemic, their talents and effort, their appreciation of and presence to that moment, would buoy the sinking spirit of a woman self-isolating alone, sitting on her living room couch, singing along.

We never know what healing and hope our acts of love will unleash into the world. In these days, when most of us are sheltering in place, our contributions may seem small, but every one counts. Every one.

While front-line workers release love into the world, so do those with more hidden work to do. It all counts, whether we’re cooking for elderly neighbors, making grocery store runs, staying home, wearing face masks when outside or in a building, reading to children, contributing to the public discussion, or even writing a column.

Being faithful to what we have been given to do, large or small, does indeed matter – now and always – because every act of love is an outpouring of the Love that creates and sustains all.

© 2020 Mary van Balen

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Proximity and Hope
February 13, 2020 By 7 Comments

Proximity and Hope

“Nocturne Navigator” Alison Saar, 1998
Collection: Columbus Gallery of Art “…commemorates those involved with the Underground Railroad…The figure’s billowing skirt, illuminated from within, shows the constellations of stars that would help guide the fugitives on their nighttime journey, while her heavenly gaze and outstretched arms suggest a mix of anguish, prayer, and gratitude.” (from museum signage)

A movie or book can be transforming. For Black History Month, I’m sharing an experience with both. In January, I attended a movie with friends: Just Mercy.

Based on the book Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption, written by Bryan Stevenson and published in 2014, the movie centers around Stevenson’s representation of death-row inmate Walter McMillian, appealing his murder conviction.

Stevenson is a Black public interest lawyer who, after graduating from Harvard Law School, went to Alabama to represent those who had been illegally convicted or poorly represented at their trials.

Just Mercy is powerful and sometimes difficult to watch. If you don’t think racism’s roots are deeply embedded in this country when you walk in, you’ll be questioning your assumption when you walk out. But the movie isn’t only about the fear, hatred, and oppression that has been visited upon Black Americans since their forced arrival as slaves. Or how fear and ignorance disfigure the oppressors. Its main message is about accepting truth, about hope and the possibility of change.

The movie includes Stevenson’s 1989 founding of the nonprofit Equal Justice Initiative (EJI), located in Montgomery, Alabama. According to its website, EJI is “… committed to ending mass incarceration and excessive punishment in the United States, to challenging racial and economic injustice, and to protecting basic human rights for the most vulnerable people in American society.”

In talks across the country, Stevenson names hope as one of the four things necessary to effect change. He calls it a “superpower” and the enemy of injustice. “It is what makes you stand up when someone tells you to sit down.”

He names another element necessary for change: proximity. In a speech at Penn State in Abington, Stevenson gave this advice: “We need to get closer to people who are suffering and disfavored so we can understand their challenges and their pain. We can’t create solutions from a distance. Decide to get closer to people who are suffering, marginalized, disadvantaged, poor. Only in proximity to those who are suffering can we change the world.”

Reading this, I thought of Pope Francis’s call, early in his pontificate, for priests to be close to the people they serve: “This is what I am asking you — be shepherds with the smell of sheep.”

Jesus lived that out. He spent time with ordinary people and those on the margins. He counted fishermen and tax collectors as his early followers and included women in his close circle of friends and disciples. He ate and drank with sinners, much to the dismay of religious leaders who kept their distance.

I’ve also been reading Howard Thurman’s book, Jesus and the Disinherited. A Black theologian, pastor, and spiritual mentor to Martin Luther King Jr., Thurman reminds us that Jesus was marginalized. He was poor, and he was a Jew in an occupied land. Jesus knew the suffering of those on the edge, or as Thurman might say “those with their backs to the wall.” He devotes a chapter to fear and its effects on people.

But Jesus’s response to marginalization was not fear. It was not violence. It was love. It wasn’t separation from those who were suffering. It was proximity. He showed us how to love and to serve our neighbor—who is everyone.

He spoke the truth. He healed on the Sabbath. He said the Kingdom of God is within us. He had hope and faith in the One who sent him and in the power of compassion. He stood up when he was told to sit down.

This month is a good time to reflect on our history, the state of our country, and the divisiveness that is increasingly expressed in violence against “the other” – not only Blacks, but also Jews, LGBTQ+ people, the poor, and immigrants.

If you’re able, see the movie (or read the book). Read Howard Thurman. They invite us to ponder how we can, as Isaiah admonishes, remove oppression, false accusations, and malicious speech from our midst; to ponder how can we share our bread with the hungry and give shelter to the homeless.

They challenge us to follow Jesus’s example of walking with the marginalized and of love, to believe that love will cast out fear and bring hope instead.

© 2020 Mary van Balen

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Finding Hope in 2020
January 16, 2020 By 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.

©2020 Mary van Balen

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Deeds Come First
September 27, 2019 By 8 Comments

Deeds Come First

Peter Claver, a 16th century Spaniard, was canonized by the Roman Catholic church as a saint in 1888, but he is not well-known. He was born in 1581 and entered the Jesuits there in 1601. In 1610 he went to the missions in America, landing in Cartagena, a port city in what is now Columbia, that was a major stop for slave ships. He was ordained in 1616 and spent his life serving the 10,000 enslaved Africans who arrived every year.

Claver considered himself a slave to the slaves and began ministering to them from the time the ships docked. He made his way into the hold, encountering people who had survived the most horrid conditions imaginable. (About one-third of them didn’t.)

The image I have of Peter Claver is one of a man moving among the people, providing food and water, medicine and care as he treated their physical wounds. “Deeds come first, then the words,” is a quote attributed to him. His life bears that out. It was attention to basic human needs that came first. Only later, using translators and sometimes pictures, would he try to communicate with the Africans some ideas of Christianity and God’s love for them.

Through his deeds and words, Claver treated people with respect, honoring the dignity due every human being. No exceptions. That’s the lesson of his life that stays with me today.

While 400 years have passed since the first slave ship arrived on our shores, the repercussions of slavery remain. Racism is deeply embedded in our country and continues to deny this most basic right to our African American sisters and brothers, challenging us to respond.

Dehumanizing people, marginalizing them is all too easy. The list of “reasons” is long: People look “different,” speak another language, embrace a faith different from our own. Fear of difference, threats to one’s way of life, ignorance—These are on the list, too.

Painting by Laurie VanBalen, Project Director and Producer of Columbus Crossing Borders Project

As I thought of Peter Claver’s instinctive action to first alleviate human suffering, the plight of refugees at our Southern border came to mind. They come mostly from Central and South America, fleeing unspeakable violence, poverty, and fear for their lives. How are they met?

I spoke with Sister Barbara Kane, a member of the Dominican Sisters of Peace in Columbus, Ohio. She and others in her community have traveled to El Paso to serve as they could.

She spoke of refugees’ long waits in enclosed areas (some liken them to cages) until they have their Credible Fear Hearing (when the refugee states what has driven them to seek asylum.)

“The enclosures have concrete floors, are kept at 60 degrees, and are so small people are packed together, unable to lie down to sleep,” Sr. Barbara said. People receive little food. Yet, despite the great needs, no one is allowed inside to help.

After the Credible Fear Hearing, people are sent back to Mexican cities to wait again until their sponsors can be reached, and background checks run. The cities are not equipped to house so many refugees whose stay can last for weeks or months.

Once sponsors are contacted and cleared, the asylum seekers come back to the U.S and are placed in hospitality houses. The Annunciation House is where Sr. Barbara served.

“That’s where volunteers finally meet the refugees and offer help. We provide a hot shower, clean clothes, food, and a bed to sleep in,” Sr. Barbara said. Eventually, volunteers drive the refugees to the airport or bus terminals as they begin the journey to their sponsors. With fewer people making it through to this point, volunteers may have time to listen to the refugees’ stories.

“I came away convinced that the vast majority of these parents just want their children to be safe and secure and to have a future,” Sr. Barbara added. “They’re not gaming the system. They’re not bad people. They’re good, loving parents.”

If you, like me, are unable to go to the border to help in person, there are a variety of ways to support those who do. A quick Google search will provide many options. Sr. Barbara offers these suggestions for donations:

  • Donate directly to the Annunciation House at their website: annunciationhouse.org/contact, or send a check to 1003 E. San Antonio Ave., El Paso TX 79901-2620.
  • The Diocese of El Paso ministry, Diocesan Migrants and Refugee Services, Inc. accepts online donation: dmrs-ep.org; or mail a check to DMRS, 2400 Yandell Dr. El Paso TX, 79903.

© 2019 Mary van Balen

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Join Us for a Retreat: Journeys of Compassion
June 4, 2018 By 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 BalenMary 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.

 

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Easter is More than History
April 5, 2018 By 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!

© 2018 Mary van Balen

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God’s Love Is Always Big
March 11, 2018 By 2 Comments

God’s Love Is Always Big

Colorful abstract painting of people of all ages and races embracing

Acrylic – Richard Duarte Brown 2009

Originally published in The Catholic Times, March 11,2018

One of the scribes came to Jesus and asked him, “Which is the first of all the commandments?” Jesus replied, “The first is this: Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength. The second is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.”  Mk 12, 29-31

For Jesus, it’s all about love. Love of God. Love of self. Love of neighbor. When asked which commandment is the greatest, Jesus quotes from Hebrew Scriptures. First from Deuteronomy, proclaiming that God is one and that love of God is the most important “law” in one’s life. Then from Leviticus, Jesus quotes from a long list of commands given by God to Moses and says “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” is the second great commandment.

There is it. Love. Nothing else is more important. Matthew’s gospel includes Jesus saying that “The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments. It all boils down to love.

Of the three, I wonder if “loving self” might be the most difficult. It isn’t easy. And as Jesus knew, when we can’t love ourselves, loving anyone else is close to impossible. That tiny phrase “as yourself” carries a lot of weight.

Most of us are aware of our faults. We can become preoccupied with them and tied up in minutia, focusing on what’s wrong with ourselves and with others. We forget about love and end up fixated on rules, who’s keeping them and who’s not. We can even believe that God’s keeping score as we struggle through life. It’s easier than tackling “Love.”

Recently I spent an evening with a small group of women who had been gathering at one another’s homes for decades. Being mothers brought them together. Now grandmothers, they still meet, supporting one another and engaging with invited speakers. That night, I was the speaker, and our topic was “compassion.”

What struck me during our time together was that no matter how insignificant moments of love might seem, they never are. Encounters with Love are always transforming.

Once when I was about ten, I remember telling my mother she was “the worst mom in the world” and storming off to vent to her mother, who had always lived with us. I can’t remember what triggered my anger. (Mom was one of the best!) I do remember my Grandmother’s response.

She listened as I recounted my grievances. She didn’t interrupt or try to correct me. No lecture. No defense of Mom. After a pause she smiled and asked if I’d like to play a game of Canasta.

That was it. Love and healing came not with flash but with a game of cards. I couldn’t have worded it then, but her invitation said volumes about me being ok, someone she’d like to spend time with. Someone who was hurt and needed nothing more (or less) than graceful Presence.

In the scheme of things, barely a drop in the bucket. But love is never small. Once received, it changes the giver, the receiver, and ripples out.

I thought of my friend, a “missionary of Presence” in a small village in the Guatemalan rainforest. Her December newsletter recounts the transformation of women who were stigmatized by being alone, abandoned by their husbands, and left to provide for their families. She gave physical assistance but realized they needed more.

So they gather twice a month, read scripture, pray, share their stories, weep, and laugh. They know they are somebody. They are loved and now have more love to give away.

Love is powerful, but not easy. One woman in the small gathering I had been asked to attend made that point with a question. The Parkland school shooting had occurred just days before. “Do we have to show compassion to the shooter?” Silence. Then a number of voices said “Yes.”

With Love there are no exceptions. Such inclusive Love is hard to take. We’d rather draw lines, “them” on one side, “us” on the other. In some cases, it seems the reasonable thing to do. But God doesn’t see our lines. No one is beyond God’s embrace. Not our fault-filled selves, not those we close out, not the shooter.

By ourselves, we can’t be such love in a world that’s aching for it. With God’s love transforming us from the inside out, we can. After all, it’s God’s love we’re sharing.

© 2018 Mary van Balen

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment, The Scallop Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Doing What We Have Learned
October 5, 2017 By 4 Comments

Doing What We Have Learned

Abstract painting of people of all colors embracing

Painting by Richard Duarte Brown

Originally published in The Catholic Times  Oct. 8, 2017

Perhaps it’s because I’m weary of the divisive speech that is becoming more commonplace in our country and of the racism and ignorance of the “other” that undergird it. Maybe it’s hearing hateful comments, seeing intolerance, and recognizing that choices are being made to stoke fear and anger rather that to encourage true listening and dialogue. It’s these things and more that make me read and reread Paul’s words this Sunday, healing, like balm on an open sore:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Philippians 4, 8)

A friend at work gave me a flyer about a unity celebration being held at a local Episcopal church that Sunday evening. I’m glad I went. It was something gracious and lovely that reminded me of the many good people who, in ways large and small, are being love in the world.

A woman opened the celebration with a drum call to gather everyone, including the ancestors. I thought of my parents. Of people who have gone before, working for civil rights. I thought of the communion of saints.

The rector welcomed us and read “Blessing When the World is Ending” by Jan Richardson. It finishes on a hopeful note:

This blessing/will not fix you,/will not mend you,/ will not give you/false comfort;/it will not talk to you/about one door opening/when another one closes./ It will simply/sit beside you/among the shards/and gently turn your face/toward the direction/from which the light/will come,/gathering itself/about you/as the world begins/again.

A young Syrian refugee, 13 when she arrived speaking no English, 17 now, shared her powerful poetry. A woman pastor reminded us that while we look different on the outside, we are the same on the inside and pointed out the fact that human beings are made with two ears and one tongue, perhaps indicating we should listen more and talk less.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Two young women in flowing white dresses gracefully danced their prayer to the One we can’t live without, expressing with their movements the prayer in my heart. An Imam spoke of Islam and respect for all prophets. We listened and learned.

A folksinger led us in “We shall not be moved,” a song loosely based on verses from Jerimiah about one who is like a tree firmly planted by the water surviving drought and yielding fruit. A young girl called out that we should sing for peace. And we did.

A Jewish rabbi considered that we have many names the for same Holy One. She spoke of the prophets of old and wondered about today’s prophets. About being prophets and being bold.

A soloist shook the rafters and sang about God breathing on us, and I felt the Spirit-breath.

A community organizer pulled wisdom from each presentation and put them into questions for us to ponder.

Afterwards, we shared food, listened to stories, and wondered why all churches don’t have evenings like this.

Paul’s final words in that verse from Philippians—Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Then the God of peace will be with you—prompted me to consider that what we learn from Paul, he learned from Jesus. What have I learned and heard and seen in Jesus that transforms me?

painting: The Good van Gogh Samaritan, by Vincent

The Good Samaritan by Vincent van Gogh

In the gospels, I have learned that love, not power, is important. That one’s life doesn’t consist of possessions. That everyone is my neighbor, and I must take care of them. I have seen Jesus heal the sick, feed the hungry, hang out with those on the margins, and eat with outcasts. He was welcoming, patient, and merciful. He was a man of prayer. On his last night on earth he prayed “…that they may be one as we are one—I in them and you in me…” I watched Jesus wash his disciples’ feet and instruct them to do the same. He spoke truth to power, faithfully lived that truth, and was murdered for it.

I heard him say that whatever we do to the least among us, we do to him. And when it came right down to it, when someone asked him what was most important, he had two things to say: Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself.

These are the things we need to keep on doing, each of us bringing the God of peace who dwells in us into our times and places. Through all people of peace, God transforms the world.

© 2017 Mary van Balen

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