Mary van Balen — Page 18

October 13, 2014 By Mary van Balen 1 Comment

The Synod on the Family

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The Synod on the Family, called by Pope Francis, is into week two. The first document has been released. It is really a summary of what has been discussed thus far. The rest of the week will be spent with the bishops in small groups, refining the document that then will be released. As noted in NCR’s article, the document speaks in new tones of listening and recognition of the dignity of persons, and with mercy.

Still, I find myself bristling at the continued use of the word “failure” or “failed” in discussion of divorced people. Yes, truly listening to the concerns and realities of ordinary people is a step forward and perhaps heralds a coming openness to change in policies that do not reflect the love and mercy of Jesus. Still, as one who is divorced and who has worked with women in abusive situations, I must say that many times, leaving a marriage is not a “failure,” but a success. To stay in a relationship that has become oppressive, that no longer is life-giving, or that has become abusive simply to “obey the rules” is not something to encourage.

In some of these situations, if the spouses (or spouse) would pursue an annulment, the church might say the sacramental marriage was invalid, it never happened….But many do not pursue such a course. The church should respect the persons involved, not calling them failures, but supporting them as they move on.

A topic completely missing from the discussion is that of the transgender community. (Read entire document here.) Often overlooked, the “T” in “LGBT” needs to be considered. Many transgendered people have left the Catholic church after enduring humiliating experiences including the suggestion that they be exorcised for the demon within. The lack of understanding of current medical and psychological knowledge about this reality is a glaring omission.

Today, the issues of the transgender community are becoming more and more visible in the media and social consciousness of the reality has grown. The Roman Catholic Church needs to follow that lead.

The current movement is hopeful. We’ll see how far the Spirit leads and how far the Church follows.

Filed Under: The Scallop, Widening Our Circles Tagged With: catholic, compassion, faith, gender, grace, hope, inclusion, LGBT, mercy, Pope Francis, Synod on Family

October 10, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Saint John XXIII and the Holy Spirit

Originally published in The Catholic Times, Oct. 13 Vol. 64:2

This week we celebrate for the first time the feast of Saint John the XXIII. The day of his feast, October 11, was selected because it was the date of his opening the Second Vatican Council in 1962. His initiative surprised those who thought he would be a “caretaker” pope.

When Pope Francis canonized him in April of this year, he pointed to Pope John’s willingness to follow the Spirit: “In convening the Council, Saint John XXIII showed an exquisite openness to the Holy Spirit. He let himself be led and he was for the Church a pastor, a servant-leader, guided by the Holy Spirit. This was his great service to the Church; for this reason I like to think of him as the pope of openness to the Holy Spirit.”

A young student during those years, I loved the Pope. I liked his round brimmed hat and quick smile. I liked his visiting ordinary people in Rome. He reminded me of my grandma.

We drove to Pittsburgh to visit her. When we arrived at her home, which was on the second floor of what had been a hotel, we raced up the stairs to be the first to rest on her ample lap, wrapped in her strong, soft embrace. I thought Pope John the XXIII would’ve been that kind of grandpa.

In high school, I read the documents of the Council. After years of sitting in classrooms where vocations to priesthood and religious life were presented as the most desirable states of life and marriage was for those who couldn’t measure up, reading Chapter V of Lumen Gentium, “The Universal Call to Holiness,” was vindication of what I had already observed: Parents and families and single people were living lives every bit as challenging, grace-filled, and transforming as those of the priests in the rectory or the sisters who taught in our schools.

Pope John XXIII Calling for Vatican Council II

Reading the words felt good: “It is therefore quite clear that all Christians in whatever state or walk of life are called to the fullness of Christian life and to the perfection of charity…” “The forms and tasks of life are many but there is one holiness, which is cultivated by all who are led by God’s Spirit…”

Gaudium et Spes” offered more hope: “The invitation to converse with God is addressed to men and women as soon as they are born.” “The best way to fulfill one’s obligations of justice and love is to contribute to the common good according to one’s means and the needs of others…” “Just as God did not create people to live as individuals but to come together in the formation of social unity, so he ‘willed to make women and men holy and to save them, not as individuals without any bond between them, but rather to make them into a people…”

Vatican II began to move the Roman Catholic Church away from fear of and toward engagement with the modern world. The council reached out to all: “We cannot pray to God the Father of all if we treat any people as other than sisters and brothers, for all are created in God’s image.”

It’s fitting to reflect on Pope John XXIII’s courageous willingness to follow that holy lead as the church gathers in a synod to consider the family in today’s world. I wish those invited included more ordinary couples, more women, and more diversity of family experiences. Still, the gathering is hopeful. We’ll see.

Pope Francis’ address to the thousands of people gathered in the piazza to pray for the synod reminded me of John XXIII’s Spirit led effort. “May the Wind of Pentecost blow upon the Synod’s work,” Francis said, “on the Church, and on all of humanity. Undo the knots which prevent people from encountering one another, heal the wounds that bleed, rekindle hope.”

His homily at Sunday’s opening mass warned of the possibility that those charged with nurturing God’s people can bring harm instead out of their self interest, greed, and pride: “God’s dream always clashes with the hypocrisy of some of his servants. We can ‘thwart’ God’s dream if we fail to let ourselves be guided by the Holy Spirit,” Pope Francis said. “The Spirit gives us that wisdom which surpasses knowledge, and enables us to work generously with authentic freedom and humble creativity.”

We can honor Pope John XXIII by praying for the continuing unfolding of Vatican II wisdom and for openness of all, no matter their position, to the Spirit who is blowing through windows and refreshing the air in our church.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: Gaudium et Spes, Holy Spirit, hope, Lumen Gentium, Pope Francis, Pope John XXIII, Saint John XXIII, Synod of the Family, Universal Call to Holiness, Vatican Council II

October 8, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

The Heavens Declare the Glory of God

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

I’m always ready for a celestial event, but Ohio skies do not always cooperate. Many are the times I stood under the canopy of night sky, looked up, and saw only darkness. I contented myself with the knowledge that beyond the cloak of clouds, meteors were falling, Mars was passing close, or the moon was being eaten by earth’s shadow. But early this morning, Ohio skies were clear and the full lunar eclipse was spectacular.

I texted and called my daughters, made tea, placed my kitchen step stool on the driveway and settled down to watch with my eyes, binoculars, and a monocular purchased for star gazing.

The heavens declare the glory of God; and the sky manifests God’s handiwork. Day after day proclaims it and night after night shows it forth…

My buddy, Orion was watching, too, his broad shoulders and belted sword visible over my shoulder. Comforting. Orion has been my guardian for years. When my marriage was floundering, I stood on our side porch and felt the overpowering presence of someone taking care of me. Oriron was God’s messenger, silently telling me that Love was Present.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

There is no speech, nor language, nor is their voice heard, yet their proclamation has gone forth through all the earth and their message to the end of the world…

So, it was fitting to sit under the night sky and watch with Orion as the moon turned from bright to red. Lunar eclipses show off the sphericalness of the moon. Sometimes, it looks like a flat silver disk in the sky. Not during an eclipse-definitely a ball. Even with my unaided eyes, I could make out the craters and seas. Once completely in earth’s shadow the moon’s details were easier to see.

A few joggers went by, and a few cars. I wondered if they were looking at the sky or simply straight ahead. The earth, sun, and moon were showing off their glorious dance through the cosmos with a spectacular move, like a deep dip in ballroom dancing, just to make sure we notice how marvelous they are.

Give thanks to the Lord, for the Lord is good….to the Lord who by wisdom made the heavens, for the Lord’s mercy endures forever…to the Lord who made the great lights, for the Lord’s mercy endures forever; the sun to rule the day, for the Lord’s mercy endures forever; the moon and stars to rule the night, for the Lord’s mercy endures forever…

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

In the quiet of the morning, in the splendor of the eclipse, I knew we, on the spinning sailing earth, are but a speck. I know we are making a mess of things: wars, pollution, gouging the earth for oil and gas and gold and jewels, changing the climate, and trashing the landscape. We hate as much as we love. We destroy as much as we create. Yet, there is hope. In spite of our weaknesses we do love. We do create. Like the moon in eclipse, we sometimes fall into shadow, but God’s light shines, ready for us when we are ready for it. The cosmic dance continues, and Orion reminds me that Love remains…the Lord’s mercy endures forever.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: cosmos, creation, grace, hope, light, lunar eclipse, mercy, present to the moment, quiet prayer

September 24, 2014 By Mary van Balen 1 Comment

Living in Black & White

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

We sat across from each other studying the wine list. The middle eastern restaurant had moved to a more spacious location since I had last eaten there and the menu layouts had changed too. That wasn’t the reason why we didn’t have any idea what to order when the waitress stopped by our booth. We had been discussing the movie we had just seen: The Giver.

“Can I get you ladies something to drink?”

“Merlot.”

“Pino Noir,” and waters with dinner.”

The waitress nodded and disappeared.

“Do you think we live our lives in black and white?” my friend asked.

If you haven’t seen the movie, the parts that deal with the people in the community living n the present are in black and white.By the end of the movie that had changed. Not as dramatic as “The Wizard of Oz,” but you get the idea.

Her question forced me to think. Despite writing and writing and writing about living in the moment and the importance of being present to grace in the moment (the name of my column), I fessed up to running around as hurried as most, muti-tasking, and indulging in other behaviors that distract from the present.

“Thich Nhat Hanh says when you wash dishes, washing dishes in the most important thing in the world, and when you drink tea, drinking tea is the most important thing in the world,” I offered. Then admited to slurping a mouthful of tea from a mug on my table while preparing to present a retreat on journaling into prayer a couple of weeks ago, moving from room to room gathering materials, jotting notes, and checking lists. “I guess that’s living my life in black and white.”

“You ladies ready to order?”

No, not even close. We had barely looked at the menu. My friend made our apologies.

“I’ll be back.”

“I know,” my friend said. “I’m usually doing so many things at once. I mean I walk the dog thinking I’ll get outside and appreciate the season, but end up on the phone touching base with the kids, figuring out schedules, just keeping on top of things, so when I get back home I realize I didn’t see a thing,”

After a couple more attempts, the waitress quit asking. She just made eye contact and moved on.

In the movie, so much was controlled to avoid conflict and suffering. But at what cost? What would it mean for us to break out of black and white living?

“You know, the other night I came home after work and grocery shopping and stepped out of the car. The air was cool and clear. Night was a hour or so away, and the sky still showed some color: blues and a bit of orange. The brighter stars were visible overhead. I stood still for a few moments and threw my arms out wide. “Glorious!,” I whispered. “Glorious!” I called out loud, stretching my arms as wide a possible as if I could pull it all inside of me, living in color.

van Gogh Cafe Terrace Place du Forum Arles 1888

Living in color doesn’t always feel so good or look so pretty. When I cried out of hurt and frustration the other day, that was living in color. I allowed myself to feel, facing what I’d rather not. Perhaps it would’ve been more pleasant to ignore the feelings, to live in black and white. What about reading the headlines, or listening to a hurting child. Technicolor. I thought of van Gogh. Such suffering. Such color.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

The ancient questions about suffering and death and ‘Where is God in that?’ thoughts came to mind. God invited Job to trust, and to live in wild, uncontrollable color. Jesus did too. Even when the color was blood red.

Back to the moment. We decided to split a dinner platter and eat our way around colorful plate of humus, baba ghanoush, bean salad, slaw, rice, falafel, and stuffed grape leaves.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: creation, grace, Grace in the Moment, Presence, present to the moment, The Cafe Terrace Place du Forum Arles, The Giver, van Gogh

September 18, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Tenderness and the Cross

Saint John’s University Arboretum PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Originally published in The Catholic Times September 21, 2014

I have a friend who’s leaving to spend a year living and working in the L’Arche community in Trosly, a small town north of Paris, France, so I was particularly interested in the interview with L’Arche founder, Jean Vanier, in the recent issue of the National Catholic Reporter. (For those unfamiliar with L’Arche, it is an international organization that forms communities of people with mental disabilities and those who live and care for them.)

As I read the article, two words stood out. First was “community.” Vanier sees individualism as “the greatest evil of our time,” and says that people enter the world of individualism to show how good they are and often that they are better than the rest. It’s a proving ground.

Community, on the other hand, is “a school of love.” There we reveal our woundedness and needs as well as respond to the needs and woundedness of others. Community is transformational. It isn’t easy as any person

living in one can attest. Community isn’t always marriage, family, or religious life. It can be our parish or work community, extended family, a close circle of friends or coworkers for a common cause. Whatever form it takes, true community requires sacrifice as well as celebration.

The other word was “tenderness.” Vanier referred to a psychiatrist who, when asked for a sign of maturity, said “tenderness,” and understands tenderness, not non-violence, to be the opposite of violence.

While speaking of those with disabilities who come to L’Arche, Vanier noted the importance of helping them discover their preciousness and beauty, not so much by what is done, but by “being with.” Listening, treating them with respect, with tenderness, that is where transformation happens. “What is important,” Vanier says, “is relationships.”

Our world is broken, and all carry pain within. Many people expressed surprise after discovering Robin Williams had been battling deep depression for years. As Vanier suggested, those types of wounds are not shared in the world of individualism, but in community.

Some people’s struggles are more visible resulting from ignorance, fear, and oppression. The poor. Women. The LGBT community. People of color. Homeless people, many of whom suffer from mental illness. How do we respond to them with tenderness? My experience tells me that “being with” is what opens my heart to those I might otherwise see only as “other.”

Before reading this interview, I was working on a column reflecting on the mystery of last Sunday’s feast, the Exultation of the Cross. As I read about L’Arche, the two themes wove themselves together: The cross present in the living of community, and tenderness both leading to and flowing from embracing the cross.

Sunday’s mass collect put me off: “O God, who willed that your Only Begotten Son should undergo the Cross to save the human race…” I’ve never been able to get my head around the image of a God who would demand a bloody sacrifice, of a son, no less, to appease Divine justice. Unfortunately, that is often the approach taken to make sense of Jesus’ suffering and death. It just doesn’t fit with Jesus’ image of God as “Abba,” “Daddy.”

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

This intimate address to a parent exudes tenderness, not retribution. There’s the father who welcomes home the prodigal son, the mother hen who gathers and protects her chicks, the shepherd who looks for lost sheep.

Then there’s Jesus himself who tells his followers, “When you see me, you see the one who sent me.” Jesus ate with sinners, hung out with those on the fringes, embraced children, and preached giving oneself for others. When asked why he spent time with such people, Jesus replied, “Go and learn the meaning of the words ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’”

Jesus spoke of God as community, Trinity and invited us to join in. As Vanier noted, community transforms. Community with God transforms completely.

No, I can’t imagine God willing Jesus to suffer. While I’m familiar with doctrines of substitutional, even penal atonement, I have to go with my prayer and my heart. The world couldn’t cope with the radical love and truth of Jesus, and rather than abandoning who he knew himself to be, Jesus embraced the cross his faithfulness brought. His death and resurrection poured the salve of unconditional love on the wounds of humanity, and calls us to do the same. Community. Tenderness. Jesus asks us to share in his cross and resurrection, opening the door to a transformative relationship with God and all God’s people.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: compassion, Cross, Exaltation of the Cross, grace, Jean Vanier, L'Arche "School of Love", love, mercy, National Catholic Reporter, prayer, tenderness

September 1, 2014 By Mary van Balen 2 Comments

“Get Away” or “Get on Board”

Christ in the House of Mary and Martha by Jan Vermeer 1665

As I listened to today’s Gospel reading, I pictured Jesus telling Peter to get out of the way, leave, calling him “Satan” to boot. Peter had protested Jesus’s statement of his impending suffering and death. It didn’t fit into Peter’s understanding of what Jesus was about and he didn’t hesitate to say so. Jesus knew what he was about and knew that living his life faithfully would enrage those in power. Suffering and death were in the cards. The only way to avoid it would be to be untrue to his call, and Jesus would have none of that.

In his homily, Fr. Denis put a different spin on Jesus’ response to Peter. Rather than telling Peter to “go away,” Jesus was admonishing him to “get on board.” “Get behind me” can mean “get with the game plan,” “support me.” I’d never thought of it that way, but it made sense. Why would Jesus want to banish the one he had just called “the rock,” the solid foundation of the church? He wouldn’t. He would, instead, point out the problem and encourage Peter to support him.

That’s heartening. Many times I’m sure my understandings or concerns get in the way of God’s work in and through me. What I think would be most productive may not be so. We just can’t see the whole picture. None of us can. A friend of mine in St. Louis pointed that out in her last email. While it may be convenient or seem best to paint the militarized police force as “bad guys,” it isn’t that simple. Dialogue, peace, and progress won’t happen until we banish that “Satan” and engage one another in open conversation. Demonizing either side makes true reconciliation impossible. Yet, in the heat of the moment, many of us are inclined to see narrowly and act out of misconception.

Icon Mina and Jesus

Giving ourselves to Jesus’ mission of love and transformation of the world surely entails suffering for each of us. Life is hard. Loving is hard. Embracing our vocations, as they unfold throughout our lives, is made a bit easier with the support of friends and family. Their love doesn’t do away with the hard work, difficulties, and suffering we encounter, but it helps us “keep on keeping on” as Pete Seeger used to say.

Jesus spent time at the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. He enjoyed meals and walks and conversations with friends and disciples. Jesus didn’t want to boot Peter because he didn’t see the big picture. Jesus wanted him standing squarely behind him, supporting him even when what he did made no human sense. Jesus wanted Peter to live like he believed the declaration he had made: You are the Messiah, the Son of God. Jesus wants us to live that way, too, trusting in the big picture we cannot see.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: friends, grace, Keep on keepin' on, love, Peter, support

August 26, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Join Me for a Journaling Retreat

mkvbh-210-Journal_from_je Journaling has long been a way of prayer for me. Writing can help me be present to the moment, aware of Grace in ordinary experiences. It also helps me reflect on life as it unfolds. Sometimes it’s a book or movie that touches my spirit. Sometimes a passage from Scripture or a photo, or a conversation. It might be current events or listening to YoYo Ma.

What begins as thoughts and feelings scribbled across pages becomes prayer: Lament, thanksgiving, plea for help, or simple amazement. My journals are my books of prayer.

Come join me on Sept. 13 at Corpus Christi Center of Peace and begin to create your own. We will spend the day exploring different approaches to journaling. Whether you are new to the practice or an experienced journaler, you’ll find something new to take home with you.

Journaling the Journey flyer for Corpus Christi CoP 2014-1

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

August 12, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

A Bad Hair Sunday

PHOTO:Mary van Balen

One look in the mirror told me I would not get away without washing and blow drying my hair. It is cut short for a few reasons. Besides liking how it looks, I also like being able to run a brush through it and head out to work, the grocery store, whatever. I thought I could do that on Sunday, so I dressed for work thinking I’d attend mass at St. Thomas, visit with friends, and then head to work. No so much.

Instead, I attended a church just a few minutes away. I would have time to return home and tame that head of hair. CPAP machine or Providence, not sure which did the job on my hair, but the service was filled with just what I needed to hear. I had written last week’s column on the OT reading and in the process had read through Mass readings for the week. Still, hearing the three readings proclaimed provides a fresh look, as does the homily.

The day began with feelings of frustration and discouragement: No news on the book, as usual. Working still selling stuff. My house was a mess. I hadn’t slept well. Generally, I was feeling a bit sorry for myself and unsure how to shake free of my “mood.”

Singing helps. One of the wonderful things about church on Sunday is singing. I used to sing all the time, guitar in hand, by myself or with others at sing-a-longs or other gatherings. Years ago, I had painted a sun and flower on my guitar case along with the words “How Can I Keep from Singing,”one of my favorites sung by Pete Seeger. So, belting out a few good songs feels good. Three singers including a piano player kept the tempo up and their harmonies were stirring. The words of the readings sunk deep into my heart: Elijah had to listen closely to hear a whisper…Jesus needed to take time to pray, by himself, in quiet…Peter did OK walking on water until he took his eyes of Jesus. Then he began to sink.

I need to pray in quiet times, not only as I go about my day at home and at work. While that prayer is also important, it’s different. Sometimes silence is what I need to listen, to hear. Taking one’s eyes off God is easy to do. Walking on water or making it through another day at work, it’s all the same. Lots of distractions. Lots of opportunities to focus on one’s self or what isn’t going as one hopes or what is. Jesus was about Love and service, and listening to the One who sent him into this world. It doesn’t sound difficult or at least not impossible. I suppose, at the moment, walking on water didn’t sound difficult to Peter either. It wasn’t as long as he walked in faith.

I was feeling better. I could take some quiet time before work. Eucharist was nourishing. As if all that were not enough, the closing song was none other than “How Can I Keep From Singing.” I couldn’t. Thinking of Pete Seeger and others who have walked this earth faithful witness to Love and service, I sang all the way home.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: grace, hope, love, Pete Seeger, prayer, quiet prayer

August 8, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

God Who Comes in Whispers

curly wind clip art.jpg

First published in The Catholic Times, August 10, 2014, Volume 63:3

Sunday’s reading follows a dramatic showdown between Elijah and King Ahab after three long years of drought predicted by the prophet. During his reign, Ahab’s wife, Jezebel, spread the worship of Baal throughout the land and murdered the prophets of the Lord. Elijah alone remained. Prompted by God, Elijah met with the king and proposed they meet on Mount Carmel.

People from all over Israel were summoned including the prophets of Baal. Tired of their unwillingness to choose between the Lord and Baal, Elijah challenged them to watch and decide: The prophets of Baal were to prepare a sacrifice. Elijah would do the same. Each would call on their god to send fire to consume the offering.

You know the outcome. Despite a day of shouting, dancing, and self-mutilation, Baal’s prophets received no answer. Then Elijah, after preparing his sacrifice and inviting the people to douse it all with water three times, asked the Lord to answer his prayer so the people would turn their hearts again to the true God.

Fire consumed the sacrifice, the stones, the wood, and dried up all the water in the trench. Elijah commanded the people to slaughter all the prophets of Baal who were present. A small cloud over the sea grew larger and darker, and as God had promised, at last, rain came.

Jezebel was furious and vowed to take Elijah’s life. He fled until, exhausted, he sat down by a bush and asked God to take his life, but angels, not death, arrived. And they brought food. Twice they fed the old prophet. Strengthened, he traveled forty days to Mount Horeb.

This is where we meet Elijah in Sunday’s reading. After having spent his life striving to be faithful to his God, he wasn’t sure what he had accomplished. In spite of the spectacular results on Mount Carmel and the killing of Baal’s prophets, his world appeared unchanged.

A few lines are left out of Sunday’s reading. Between the night of sleep in the cave, and the command to stand on the mountain to wait for the Lord, Elijah hears God asking him what he is doing there.

He answers, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”

Haven’t we felt that same way at one time or another? Having done our best, our best isn’t good enough. We’ve prayed, we’ve worked, and we’ve hoped but eventually, find hope elusive. As the angels observed, the journey is too much for us. For our resources. We need nourishment from God to go on, and even then we aren’t sure what to do next. Poverty, hatred, oppression, and disease continue to plague our world, and we have no answers.

Elijah waited to meet the Lord, but God didn’t come in the violence of wind or storms. He didn’t come in earthquakes or fire. The Lord didn’t come with force, but in a whisper. All the power of God. In a whisper.

I find that comforting. I think it’s because I can do “whispers.” I can do little things with great love. All the bombs raining down fire on people below haven’t brought peace. All the hatred and angry posturing haven’t brought needed change. Like Elijah’s showdown on Mount Carmel, they might look impressive, but in the end, they only make things worse.

We aren’t perfect. Elijah wasn’t either. He had four hundred and fifty prophets slaughtered because they believed in the wrong god. He wanted good. He wanted what God wanted, but couldn’t make it happen himself.

It’s a story repeated in scripture and in our lives. God brings good from our efforts in ways we don’t know. When we can see no path ahead, like Elijah, God invites us to trust. To be still. To listen. God is passing by. God is coming in whispers. Whispers from the lips of children, from a tired mother. From a scarred earth. From a cool breeze. From a kind deed. From some little thing you do that you think makes no difference.

The Holy One who made all that is and who is beyond our imaginings is a God who comes in whispers.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: be still, creation, Elijah, grace, hope, listen, love, Presence, quiet prayer, spirituality, trust, whisper

August 6, 2014 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Patience

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Almost three years ago, I bought a Christmas cactus plant at Trader Joe’s. It was my first Christmas in my apartment and the plant looked cheery. It wasn’t big. Actually, it looked as if someone had stuck three stems in a pot of dirt. But it had blossoms. I took it home and placed it on a little prayer “table” that held a book of daily readings, a small cross, and a smattering of sea shells, small stones, and a feather. I think it liked its home because it bloomed at Christmas, but also at other times during the year.

Once, I found a single leaf-like pad had fallen from the main stem. I wondered if it would root if I stuck it in the dirt around the plant. So, I did. I watched it for months. It didn’t wither or turn brown or black, so I figured it was still “alive.” Every month or so, I’d check. No change. A year passed. Nothing. One day I pulled at it gently to see if it had rooted at all. It didn’t offer any resistance, but when I lifted it a bit I could see a white thread-like root, I assumed, so I quickly pushed the leaf-pad back into the soil.

Months passed. Then, a few days ago, when I watered all my plants, including the Christmas cactus, I saw it: A tiny pale green leaf pad growing right out of the top of the one that had been sitting in that dirt for a couple of years! Amazing. A smile spread across my face. I could never bring myself to pull up the leaf, but really, I didn’t expect it ever to grow.

Patience. Some things just take time. I never guessed what work was going on inside that little leaf that looked as if it had been doing nothing for the past year and a half. You just never know. We can be the same, often not a good judge of what is growing and changing in others or even within ourselves. If we believe the Spirit dwells within every person, then shouldn’t we also believe that something is growing within each of us? That God is up to good, even when we see no evidence?

Patience with others. Patience with ourselves. Patience with God’s time.

I called my sister to tell her the news.

“I forgot to show you when you were over tonight. The Christmas cactus leaf is growing!

She promised to have a look when she stopped by next time she stopped over.

“It reminds me of the parable of the fig tree,” she said. “You know, the one where the fig tree doesn’t produce fruit, and the owner wants to pull it out, but the gardener says ‘give me another year…'”

It did:

Luke 13, 6-9 Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’

“‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”

The little Christmas cactus needed longer than a year. I’m not sure if the scripture passage suggests that God is patient, or that we’d better get going because God won’t wait forever. I think God waits. It’s earth-time that runs out. When it does, I believe God is there, ready to celebrate what has sprouted from the bit of Divine Self planted in each of us.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: Christmas cactus, creation, faith, grace, hope, Patience, plants