President Obama and Pope Francis: Words to Ponder
September 24, 2015 By Leave a Comment

President Obama and Pope Francis: Words to Ponder

A picture of a smiling President Obama welcoming Pope Francis, also smiling, to the Whitehouse

PHOTO: THe Atlantic

I drove one of my daughters downtown to catch the Mega Bus. It pulled out just in time for me to begin listening to President Obama welcome the Pope to the United States. Eloquent and moving, his words, spoken as a man of faith, addressed the Pope saying “You shake our conscience from slumber; you call on us to rejoice in Good News, and give us confidence that we can come together, in humility and service, and pursue a world that is more loving, more just, and more free. Here at home and around the world, may our generation heed your call to “never remain on the sidelines of this march of living hope!”

The Pope’s address, delivered in English, challenged us to address issues of poverty, inclusion of those on the margins, and global warming. Referring to the urgency of dealing with climate change, he quoted Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, saying “…that we have defaulted on a promissory note and now is the time to honor it.”

Pope Francis doesn’t avoid difficult topics. I’m looking forward to hearing his address to Congress tomorrow morning. And, just as much, to his sharing lunch with the homeless rather than with the congressional elite.  I love this pope!

Text of both speeches

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The Nuns on the Bus Come to Columbus
September 21, 2015 By Leave a Comment

The Nuns on the Bus Come to Columbus

A vertical banner reading: The Nuns on the Bus, Bridge the Divides: Transform Politics

Photo: Mary van Balen

Sunday, Sept. 20, Lutheran Pastor Gary Sandberg warmly welcomed the Nuns on the Bus at the Kerns Religious Life Center on the campus of Capital University in Columbus, Ohio. The space, made available for the town hall meeting,  was filled with people of all ages and religious backgrounds. I was pleased to be part of the diverse group that shared one thing in common: concern for social issues and the failure of current political structures to deal with them. As one man said, the term “The Common Good” seems to have disappeared from public discourse.

Sr. Simone Campbell and six other nuns from across the country weren’t interested in presenting a lecture. They wanted participation, and from the start, had small groups of people talking with each other about local challenges and divides and how we could move forward to address them.

The list was long and included human trafficking (I didn’t know that Columbus ranked 7th in the country), Gerrymandering (There’s an issue on the ballot…Issue #1… Vote.) payday lenders, lack of affordable housing, ethnic and racial divides, LGBT issues, polarization, school-to-prison pipeline, lack of shelters for the homeless, especially homeless families, infant mortality (Again, Columbus ranks near the top of the list of US cities with this problem.)

You get the idea. People had suggestions: Join B.R.E.A.D., vote, take time to listen to those who have views that differ from your own, put a face on the problem by sharing stories with those in positions of power, publicize things that are working (because some things are working), and the list went on.

Sister Simone Campbell PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Sister Simone Campbell PHOTO: Mary van Balen

This meeting energized people. It broadened knowledge of issues and solutions right where we are. It was hopeful. It pointed to prayer and action and the difference one person can make. It articulated Catholic social teachings in a way that encouraged participation.

A piece of wisdom: Find one thing that you are passionate about, and become involved. Every one needs to do something. And when we do, we make a difference. We can bridge the divides. We can change politics.

I stand with The Nuns on the Bus!

 

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Encountering the Other
September 12, 2015 By Leave a Comment

Encountering the Other

modern painting circle of five people in an embrace

Painting by Richard Duarte Brown

Originally published in the Catholic Times, 9. 1315

A few days ago, while driving to work, I heard a story on NPR about the thousands of immigrants arriving on the small Greek island of Lesbos, refugees fleeing war and oppression in Syria, looking for a place to live. They risked a dangerous journey leaving everything behind and set off toward an unknown future. Husbands and wives, parents and children, friends and relatives, all willing to trust their lives to people and places they do not know.

Listening to reporters interviewing newly arrived refugees, I marveled at the joy in their voices. Thrilled to have survived the journey and to be standing on solid ground in a place free of war and the atrocities that accompany it, they spoke with such hope, such faith in God, or if not in God, in fellow human beings.

I wanted to rejoice with them, but concern tempered my delight as I wondered what the road ahead would bring for them: Mounds of paperwork and bureaucracy from governments hesitant to welcome so many people needing work and aid. Hostility and resistance from those who will feel threatened by their presence, by their “otherness.” Soon, frustration will replace the euphoria of the refugees’ first taste of freedom from constant fear and suffering.

Tragedy already darkens Syrian refugees’ arrival. The United Nations refugee agency reports that over 2,500 people have died this year trying to make the dangerous ocean crossing.

Driving home from work that same day, I heard an inspiring story of Icelanders who had formed a Facebook group, “Syria is Calling,” and is pressuring their government to take in more than the 50 refugees it had offered to accept—a lot more, 5,000. While the large number of people the group is proposing to welcome is impressive, it was the outpouring of individuals’ willingness to help that stirred my heart.

People offered to open up extra bedrooms in their homes and provide food, money, and house wares to help new arrivals settle in. This personal response is more demanding than putting a check in the mail, which is my plan. It means living with people who have different beliefs and values. In some cases, like sharing one’s home with strangers or welcoming them into your city, such action means daily encountering the “other” with openness and reverence for their personhood. It means, in the midst of serious complexities, maintaining the belief that we are more alike than different.

This post from “Syria is Calling” eloquently proclaims this truth: “Refugees are our future spouses, best friends, our next soul mate, the drummer in our children’s band, our next colleague, Miss Iceland 2022, the carpenter who finally fixes our bathroom, the chef in the cafeteria, the fireman, the hacker and the television host. People who we’ll never be able to say to: ‘Your life is worth less than mine.’”

These words challenge all of us around the globe to examine our own attitude toward the “other,” not only the Syrian refugees, but the marginalized people who live in our own cities and neighborhoods.

The Letter of Saint James, included in this Sunday’s readings, speaks forcefully about the responsibility of Christians to put their faith into action: “If a brother or sister has nothing to wear and has no food for the day, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, keep warm, and eat well,’ but you do not give them the necessities of the body, what good is it? So also faith of itself, if it does not have works, is dead.”

Fear of those who are not like us is no excuse; it is a human failing that must be confronted and transformed by love, a process that can take a lifetime. It is a process that requires encounter.

But suffering and injustice can’t wait for lifetimes. Our faith, our humanity, requires action before we are comfortable. We must respond with love despite our fear, and incrementally, our hearts will change. As Jesus said, love will cast out fear. We are all other to someone. Encounter will transform us: those in position to give and those who receive, privileged with voice and marginalized with none.

© 2015 Mary van Balen

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The Long Reach of White Privilege
August 24, 2015 By Leave a Comment

The Long Reach of White Privilege

silhouettes of people in different colorsA few days ago, Jenny Boylan wrote a great editorial in the New York Times about white privilege. It’s easy to miss it, if you’re white that is. Privilege is like that. When you’ve got it, it’s almost invisible to you while being obvious to those who don’t have it. I am a woman, so I recognize male privilege when I see it. I’m white, too. White privilege can escape my notice. I wouldn’t think of any transgender people, likely the most marginalized people in our society, as being privileged. Jenny Boylan didn’t either…

In her column, she offers her unique perspective on being white, and at on time, presenting as male, being a transgender woman, and  the suffering of trans women of color. Read it here.

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The Big Picture
August 24, 2015 By 2 Comments

The Big Picture

Google maps on Android phone

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Last week, I had an early morning endodontist appointment. Since it was my first visit, I used Google Maps on my Android and arrived on time. A little over an hour later, I was on my way to work. I decided to take Main Street into town. The drive would be easy, and on the way, I’d stop for coffee and gas. That’s when the problem began.

Even though I’m not a morning person, there was no excuse for not realizing I had turned the wrong way coming out of the station. Sun rises in the east. Driving straight into it should have alerted me: Work was due west. As I said, I’m not a morning person, and the sun’s position wasn’t enough to clue me in; it was the changing vista that finally did.

“I’m heading out into the countryside not into the city,” I thought. Google Maps to the rescue. I keyed in my office address and took off. Something was wrong. Pulling to the side of the road, I checked. Somehow, the destination glowing at me from the screen was the dentist’s office. I reentered my work address, and tried again.

Twisting and turning along back roads and housing developments and sure I knew better, I backtracked. No, that didn’t work either. Google again directed me along a mysterious path. “Faith, Mary,” I said to myself. (Yes, by this time I was talking to myself.) “Faith.”

It paid off. Finally, the entrance ramp to the freeway came into view, I knew where I was and that work was about 20 minutes away.

Lesson? Traveling with Google Maps is not a substitute for knowing the big picture. Maps stick out of pockets in both my car doors, but I rarely use them anymore, depending instead on the friendly voice from my phone to guide me.

I used to read maps and teach elementary students how to read and draw them. Now, as I drive, I don’t pay close attention; the phone app is doing that. Finding my way back to a good starting over place would be easier if I had the map in my head.

stack of folded road mapsLife is like that, too. I don’t have the big picture. I may think I do, but really, I don’t. Making choices, pursuing one path instead of others, or doing nothing can lead to unrecognized places. Sometimes, the journey, full of twists and turns and takes me where I don’t want to go.

Thank goodness God writes with crooked lines…or to paraphrase: God draws us to the Divine Self using winding ways! And the BIG picture? The one we can never see? “Faith, Mary, Faith.” I don’t believe our paths are predetermined or that choices, no matter where they plunk us, can keep us from reaching our goal: Oneness with the Holy One and with each other. I do believe patient, loving Grace is with us throughout the journey.

We move forward in darkness as well as in light. I walked into the office that morning, late, but I was there. It doesn’t hurt to study the big maps, but in the end, we’ll end up where we are called to be.

 

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A Weary Prophet
August 20, 2015 By Leave a Comment

A Weary Prophet

Elijah being touched by an angel with yellow wings

Marc Chagall, Elijah Touched by an Angel, from the Bible suite, 1958. Image source: The Jewish Museum, New York

First published in the Catholic Times, newspaper of the Catholic diocese of Columbus, OH August 16, 2015

 

This Sunday’s reading tells the story of a prophet who is worn out and discouraged. He has served God, trying to bring people back to Yahweh, trying to change the hearts of King Ahab and his wife, Jezebel who was a follower of Baal. She had many of Israel’s prophets killed. In an effort to call them all back to the Lord, Elijah spoke to the people and set up a spectacular contest. Hundreds gathered on Mount Carmel. He instructed the 450 prophets of Baal to pick a bull, cut it up, and place it on wood stacked for a fire, but not lit. That would be Baal’s job. Elijah would do the same when they had finished, calling on Yahweh to set his sacrifice ablaze.

The prophets went to work, but no amount of chanting or dancing could raise a response from Baal. When they gave up, Elijah built an altar of stone, arranged the wood, and placed the sacrifice on it. He dug a deep trench around the altar, and ordered water poured over the bull, wood, and earth. Three times he instructed them to do so until everything was soaked and the trench full.

Then, he prayed, simply. Yahweh’s power exploded in flame, consuming the bull, wood, parching the earth, and drying the trench. The people were convinced and helped Elijah slaughter all the prophets of Baal. On hearing of the contest and slaughter of the prophets, Jezebel vowed to take Elijah’s life before another day passed.

That is where we meet Elijah in Sunday’s reading. He has fled into the wilderness to save his life. Exhausted, he sits under a broom tree and prays the prayer of the despondent. He had had enough, blamed himself, and was ready to die. “Take my life,” he says. “I’m done.” He had tried his best, failed, and was alone.

Haven’t most of us, at one time or another, had similar feelings? Life sometimes brings tragedy, chronic illness, or emotional pain. Many in our world live in poverty or daily encounter discrimination and oppression. Some wake in the morning not sure where they will find the day’s food. Through it all, we try to be faithful. To trust God with us.

But sometimes, like Elijah, we are worn out. Maybe our struggle is not dramatic. It can be a nagging discontent. A doubt about what is ahead. Whatever it is, large or small, sometimes it wears us out. We are tired and discouraged, and God doesn’t seem to be around.

The prophet’s story, at one time or another, is our own. Worn out, he utters his prayer and falls asleep. I’m not sure what he expected, but I doubt it was the angel’s touch, waking him and providing food and drink. He does, then falls back to sleep. The angel comes again and orders him to eat “…else the journey will be too long for you!”

Despite the sternness of the angel’s directions, the scene has gentleness about it. God knows what Elijah needs: Sleep, food, and drink. The angel’s demands aren’t harsh, but are like those of a mother who knows what her child needs even when he doesn’t. So she tells him: Eat. Turn out the light and go to bed.

Elijah did as he was told. The rest and food gave him strength to make a long journey. I wonder what he thought as he put one foot in front of the other for days. How he prayed, if he recognized God walking with him as he went along. Sometimes we work things out in our own minds, and sometimes, we just keep going and they work out themselves. Sometimes we pray and sometimes God prays for us. I imagine both things happened to the Elijah.

Then, when he arrived at Mount Horeb, the prophet received something else he needed: an experience of God, not in storms, earthquakes, or fire, but in a quiet whisper of a voice.

This isn’t the whole story. It’s a great one to read from beginning to end, not just the bit we hear on Sunday. As I read I was moved by God’s tenderness and care for this weary prophet. and remembered an African saying, shared by a friend years ago: The strength of the fish is in the water.

For the fish, water is everything. For Elijah, when he knew it and when he didn’t…for us, our strength is in God. For us, God is everything.

© 2015 Mary van Balen

 

 

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President Obama Appoints Transgender Woman to White House Position
August 20, 2015 By Leave a Comment

President Obama Appoints Transgender Woman to White House Position

rainbow flag flying against blue sky

from Huff Post

This is good news for the transgender community. President Obama had become increasingly supportive of LGBT people and the struggle for equal rights and protections for them. He has appointed Raffi Freedman-Gurspan, who was a policy adviser at the National Center for Transgender Equality, as an outreach and recruitment director. Read about it here and in the Washington Post that first reported the story.

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Permission to be Still
July 13, 2015 By Leave a Comment

Permission to be Still

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

The day is perfect. I’m sitting with a friend on the porch of her beautiful home in the woods on Whidbey Island. Cool air blows by and sunlight plays on the branches of firs, cedars, and hemlocks. Chestnut backed chickadees and black headed juncos fly in and out of the feeder, and a woodpecker calls like a squeaky dog-toy from the woods. I’ve just finished drinking a large glass of watermelon aqua frescas when the feeling rises: Guilt. I should be doing something. I could write in my journal, make a sketch of the Douglas Fir, cedar, and hemlock needles so I can remember and identify them. I could read or compose a blog. I have an article to edit.

But all I want to do is sit, look, and breathe in pine-scented salty air. My friend reclines in her favorite red canvas chair, and now and then we comment on the birds, lack of rain, or deer that eat the Marion berry brambles she brought from her former home on Puget Sound. Then we are quiet, each with our own thoughts, or in my case, a combination of no thoughts and guilt.

I finally give myself permission to be still. To be an appreciator of creation, of a friendship that doesn’t require lots of conversation. To be present to the moment without having to record it with camera or pen. I simply sit, and when I think about it, give thanks.  It’s luxurious. And Graceful. And perfectly acceptable.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Not more than a month ago, I was on the other side of the country, participating in a contemplative residency for Shalem’s Spiritual Guidance Program. Silence and presence wove in and out of every day, reverenced  as an essential way of prayer. A way of becoming mindful of the Creator who made all and who resides within each of us. How could such stillness be worthy on retreat, but suspect on this glorious afternoon? How does our culture’s value of “doing” so quickly trump the wisdom of being still?  Have you wondered at that when the moment says “rest,” but some inner voice speaks louder: “Not now. No Time. Maybe later?” When the ingrained imperative to “be productive” pulls you away from your heart’s desire, how has your struggle gone?

Today, I wrestled for awhile, then relaxed into spacious silence. A small victory, sweet and refreshing, like the watermelon aqua frescas.

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June 21, 2015 By 2 Comments

Decluttering Closets and Lives

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

  Originally published in The Catholic Times, June 6, 2015

I spent the last couple of days cleaning out my closet and getting rid of “things.” The impetus for this activity is a new job. During the past five years, I have worked as a retail sales associate at a large department store where black clothing was the rule. A splash of color on top was ok as long as a black jacket or sweater covered our shoulders and back. My closet, as you might imagine, reflected the dress code. I hadn’t minded too much. After all, I was a Catholic schoolgirl used to uniforms.

At my daughter’s suggestion, before going shopping to add color to my wardrobe, I tired on every piece of clothing I owned. The “donate” pile grew until it filled over four trash bags! I was amazed by the amount of stuff. Some clothing I haven’t worn for years. How had my closet become so full?

Letting go of “stuff” is often difficult, even if we don’t use it. “Maybe it will come in handy later.” “I might wear that next summer.” “I remember when I bought that. It came from…” Fill in the bank with the name of a place you visited, a special person, or an event that holds a special place in your heart. Accumulation is easy.

I must say that cleaning out my closet felt great. I’m ready to tackle the basement and boxes that have been stored unopened since I moved into my present home. Divesting. Feeling lighter. It’s good. Friends who had downsized from larger homes to smaller ones or condos tell the same story. I think that’s because things do more than fill up our homes. They clutter our spirits.

For some nomadic peoples, their way of life precludes “collecting” stuff. Once, while reading “The Mystic Warriors of the Plains,” I was struck by the Lakota’s practice of decorating everyday utensils and teepees with images and symbols, with color and beauty. As they were handled, they must have drawn the users hearts and minds to remember, to pray, to be present. The wisdom born of a nomadic culture impressed me then and now.

How easy, in our culture, to accumulate. We are consumers, and our economic system encourages that. Media bombards us with new gadgets, fashions, and other possessions that we just shouldn’t live without. We can have so much stuff that we rent units to hold what can’t fit into our homes.

Things require care as well as places to be. Our minds, our schedules, our money, even our spirits in some ways, respond to our possessions. “Just keep what brings you joy,” my daughter counseled. Often, things weigh us down rather than lift our hearts. Too many things can make our spaces feel oppressive rather than peaceful. Precious time is used to clean, maintain, and organize stuff that isn’t used. Where’s the joy in that?

Our culture encourages consumption of nonmaterial things as well, encouraging us to accumulate experiences, to spend hours engaged with the time-sink of social media, computer games, and television. These activities can be good, but they also can lure us into addiction. Who has begun scrolling down the computer screen meaning to simply check their facebook page or to play a game of Spider Solitaire and discover, when they check the time, that a couple of hours have passed?

Worthy activities can be overdone, too. Good hearts easily become involved with too many committees and organizations. Even children may have schedules that leave little room for imagination and drawing on inner resources when boredom sets in.

Human beings need quiet. We need silence to hear the whispers in our hearts and souls. We nurture ourselves when we take time to sit with God, to be alone, to notice the moon drifting behind clouds, or to take a close look at flowers and plants growing in our yards and parks. When we aren’t preoccupied, we can be present to the moment.

Emptying my closet helped me recognize the grace of decluttering other parts of my life, too. I’m looking forward to it!

© 2015 Mary van Balen

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A Mindful Day
May 8, 2015 By Leave a Comment

A Mindful Day

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I feel like God is in hiding. Sometimes that sense of absence lasts a long time. One day, while thinking about that, I decided to take a “Mindful” day, borrowing the term from the Buddhist practice of “mindfulness.”

“Perhaps this disconnect has something to do with my lack of being present to the moment,” I thought. Ironic, since that is what I often write about in this column. “Easier said than done,” or “Easier written than done,” in my case.

I started the day with mass at St. Thomas. A little late, but rush hour traffic tied me up on the trip across town. Despite frustration with lanes of slow moving cars, I managed to take a deep breath and relax. I noticed the sky, battled the wind buffeting my little Civic, and sat through four turns of the traffic light at 5th and Cassady before walking into church.

Next was a drive down Route 33 for allergy shots. I resisted the temptation to use the drive as an opportunity to catch up with one of my daughters and instead, paid attention to the countryside stretching out on either side of the highway.

The morning light was spectacular. Spring’s greens included a wide spectrum of color. I thought of the debated claim that Inuit people of Northern Canada have fifty or more words to refer to snow (Anthropologist, Franz Boas’s study in the late 1800’s to early 1900’s has been debated ever since.)

“We should have more words for ‘green’,” I thought. I suppose we do if you count adjective descriptors like “sap green” (a favorite water color hue), “Kelly green,” “olive green,” and “forest green.”

What about the green that seems to have sucked up sunlight through the plant’s roots, appearing to glow green from inside out? Or the green that calls us to “watch this space,” with leaves shining with emerging life, changing from hour to hour?

The entire day was like that. I recognized courage and perseverance in the gait of an older man struggling up the slight incline from parking lot to sidewalk in front of a doctor’s office. Appreciation for his effort stirred in my heart, and I stood respectfully by, telling him not to hurry despite his blocking my car door. Like an honor guard for a returning soldier, I stood straight as he moved slowly by. Life is difficult and he was “keeping on,” as Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie said.

One by one, experience by experience, the day nurtured my soul as I paid attention to where I was, turning away from the temptation to fret over the past, worry about the future, or multi-task while eating by reading email or New York Times headline articles. (To all the mothers out there who survive by multi-tasking at home and at work, mindfulness can be like a drink of cool water on a hot day.) I savored tastes and ate slowly, an accomplishment for one who chews a few times and then swallows.

By the end of the day, which I celebrated with a call from my youngest daughter then candles and Rumi at bedtime, I felt full, fuller in spirit than I had been for quite a while.

Mindfulness isn’t a miracle cure for spiritual emptiness or feeling distant from the One we long for. Still, being truly present to the moment helped me recognize the beauty of nature and of souls, and the wonder and Mystery bursting life at its seams. That’s the conventional wisdom, isn’t it? You don’t meet God in the past or future, but in the present. I was able to ponder the possibility that the Divine truly is reaching out from every direction, including from within, to connect with us. (This is much more difficult to do if one is watching reruns of The West Wing or Frazier on Netflix in order to distract from uncomfortable chatter in one’s mind.)

“You sound great,” my daughter observed during our phone conversation.

I shared my “mindful day” with her and heard myself saying, “ This day nourished me.” And when I finally closed my eyes, I had the smallest sense that God was right there with me.

© 2015 Mary van Balen

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