PHOTO: Mary van Balen October came so fast, I didn’t notice its arrival. That is unusual for me. Decades ago, moved by the exuberant beauty of an October day, I wrote a song celebrating just that. Waiting up til midnight on Sept. 30, I sang in the season, year after year. (see October 1, 2009 blogpost)Once I had children, we sometimes waited up together and sang in the lovely month that held not only amazingly clear blue skies and flaming trees, but also my birthday.

We had a number of October traditions, the most recent being my emailing my now grown children to wish them a happy October 1. This year, however, I was just too tired to remember. I had had a busy week: a webcast and a retreat and all the preparation that attends both. I worked at the department store on Sunday, Oct. 1, and the only time I really thought about the day was when I was driving to the store.

The sky was not the clear blue I like to associate with the month. Instead, grey clouds hung overhead. The trees caught my eye, though. Their leaves were beginning to show red and orange.

“Wow, the trees are turning early this year,” I thought as I passed maples and gums. And then I remembered. It was October. When September blew by, I didn’t know. I clocked in and worked through the day, tired and thinking mostly of getting back home and going to bed.

Finally, around 7pm, I walked toward the car. Then I heard that small sound that indicated I had a received a text message. I slid into the front seat, flipped open my cell phone and saw the message was from my daughter. I opened it.

“Happy October : )!”

I smiled. This is a season to celebrate. Not only magnificent skies and vibrant colors, apple cider and donuts, or walks in the woods. Also daughters who reminds me to celebrate when I am too tired to remember.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen Eighteen of us had a wonderful day last Saturday exploring the practice of journaling as a way of prayer. As one participant commented, the “gift of time” is something needed in a lifestyle that has us rushing from place to place without really stopping to notice the people and things that fill our lives. The jeweler’s loupes were a hit. Who knew how beautifully structured and detailed a dragonfly’s body was? Or the geometric patterns of a hemlock cone?

Being present to the moment is essential in all prayer, and together we enjoyed the opportunity to use journaling as a way to foster that. Laughter, conversation, sharing, good food, and lovely surroundings filled the hours. I hope to share the experience again in the coming year!

International Day of Peace Poster Today is the International Day of Peace, originally declared by the United Nations General Assembly in 1981 to be celebrated each year on the third Tuesday of September by a cessation of acts of war and access for humanitarian aid access in areas affected by war. In 2002 the date was fixed on September 21, and in subsequent years, a call to non-violence was included in the twenty-four hour observance.

People worldwide observe a minute of silence at noon, and various ways of honoring the day have emerged around the globe.

Today is also the feast of St. Matthew, evangelist, whose gospel includes the Beatitudes and the parable of the final judgement when all are judged on their love and charity to others. The reading from Ephesians 4 for today’s Mass as well as the gospel reading (Mt 9,9-13), stress love, mercy, and peace. Paul writes
As I spent time in quiet prayer this morning the words “one God of all, who is over all and through all, and in all” lodged in my heart. Before we can bring peace, we must, as Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh writes, be peace. To be peace we must allow God who is Peace, to fill our hearts. It is God’s Peace we are called to share. First, we must be at peace with ourselves and with our God. No matter the number of songs sung, vigils held, or works done, peace cannot come through our efforts alone.

Great movements of non-violence like that led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., had roots in faith and in the God of Peace dwelling within each person, giving each the strength to love and resist the temptation to respond to violence with violence.

Being at peace with self and with God is not easy. It is a practice. A day in and day out practice. Little by little, as we rest with the Holy One and allow the Spirit to grow in us, we can begin to see not with human vision alone, but also with God’s vision. We see a bigger picture. Peace is not only about the absence of war. It is about justice. It is about food for all. It is about good stewardship of the earth. It is, at Jesus says in Matthew’s gospel, about mercy.

Yesterday, I wrote about little things making us holy. Each action we take (or do not take) makes us more or less a person of peace. How we respond to a neighbor, a family member, or someone at work. How we use the resources of the earth. Something as small as turning off the water when we brush our teeth can become an action of peace, honoring others by conserving water needed by all. It can be a reminder to pray. A reminder that our little actions are part of a big picture.

The 2012 International Day of Peace theme is: “Sustainable Peace for a Sustainable Future.” Most of us address these issues in the small actions of daily life. Sometimes we are called upon to witness in a larger way to our faith in God and commitment to God’s vision of peace for all. This November, Amercians have the responsibility of voting for our president and many members of Congress in what may be the most important election in the lives of those in my generation.

Remaining peaceful in the midst of an ugly campaign is difficult. Trying to see with the eyes of our God who is “in all” requires prayer. No one candidate is perfect, but we are called to discern who shares a larger vision of peace for our world. Which of those seeking office will work for the poor and oppressed here and around the world? Who will make care for the environment, for sustainable energy a priority?

One way to observe this International Day of Peace is to spend time in prayer, listening for the voice of the Spirit; praying for a share in her Wisdom.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen In today’s gospel reading, it was the little things the woman noticed when Jesus entered Simon’s house: No one brought water to wash Jesus’ dusty feet; no one greeted him with a kiss; no one wiped his face and refreshed it with oil. Changed by his words of God’s loving forgiveness, she had come to seek him out. Perhaps to give thanks for lifting a burden from her heart and replacing it with hope.

The lack of honor shown to this man moved her to tears, and she washed his feet with them, drying with her hair. She broke her alabaster jar of perfume and anointed his feet, covering them with kisses as she did.

Simon was shocked and offended. Jesus felt the warmth of her love and said so: She had been forgiven much and she loved much. He had no such words for his host, who, if he were open to the moment, was abashed.

A lifetime of paying attention to the “little things” make a saint. Liturgical Press’ September “Give Us This Day” book of prayer, a short reflection on the life of Daria Donnelly is offered as an example of one made holy by living ordinary life fully and with love. She was an editor of “Commonweal” magazine, a wife and mother. She died at forty-five of multiple myeloma. Her witness? In her words: “The only thing that matters is showing love and compassion in the time that is given us.”

Most of us live ordinary lives, work day in and day out at jobs that may or may not be fulfilling in themselves. We are parents and children; aunts and uncles; neighbors and strangers. But each day, each moment is an acceptable time for the inbreaking of grace and love. Present to the moment, we are surprised by beauty and kindness.

This morning, I woke with a “to do” list stamped in my brain. I washed dishes and, suspecting a nail in its tire, took my car to a local mechanic to check. He asked for an hour. I walked down the street to a small restaurant and treated myself to breakfast and time to write a bit in my journal. On the walk back, I noticed a leaf on the sidewalk. Or more accurately, the leaf called to me, bright with large dew drops throwing the morning sun out for passersby to see.

Stooping down for a closer look, I pondered the fall season, the large size of the drops, and the brilliance of the sun. Grace, inbreaking.

“Yep, it was a nail. Keys are in the car.”

“What do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” He smiled. Grace again.

A sweet sense of peace replaced nagging concern with my mental chores list. While I spend the rest of my day selling home-goods to bargain seekers, I will pass the peace along. Department store or office; strangers or friends; commerce or solitary work. All are acceptable times and places for God’s Grace to show up and continue the work of transformation.

Rita Frye PHOTO: Mary van Balen “Well, Hello!” Rita’s voice came over my cell. I couldn’t believe we had connected, expecting instead to leave a message.

“Happy Birthday!” I said.

“You’re on top of things,” she replied, no doubt surprised by the early hour of the call. Our forty-four years of friendship had made it clear that I was NOT a morning person. Still, rising early for the chance of spending a few minutes in conversation with my friend was an easy choice.

Rita and I met as freshman at the College of Saint Francis, in Joliet, IL. In fact, since her aunt was the dean of women at that time, Rit had the opportunity to look through letters written by applicants to choose her roommate. We still can’t figure out why she chose me. I had written nothing. Nothing about myself. I imagine I just filled in what was required and sent the application on its way.

Looking back, Rita would say it was God. And I would agree. Not only has our friendship spanned over four decades, but through introductions to people who were part of my life, Rita found her life’s work in serving the poor and mentally challenged in Appalachia. And me? I found a blessing.

We shared train rides to and from Chicago on the passenger line that provided her grandfather with his job as porter. Her father had a restaurant near the station. We took our guitars and had sing a longs in the dining car. We headed small protests to make changes in the all girls college dress code, generally caused a bit of uproar, and made two other friendships that have also endured.

Rita is not a great communicator, at least to those who are not part of her day, but despite few letters or calls, we connect immediately when we do talk. Today my intent was to celebrate the blessing she has been on the earth for sixty plus years. I did. She also supported me as I continue to deal with the emotional aftermath of divorce and the realities of trying to make ends meet.

In the end we marveled together over a small nature preserve near Peebles, OH, Davis Memorial Park, and a tiny creature that lives in the ice cold water of the cave there.

“It’s the only place it lives,” Rita said. Then added, “Makes you wonder how they know that, doesn’t it?” True. Who knows. Really. But it doesnt’ matter. What does matter is that somewhere in the cold darkness of a cave, a little creature lives and propagates, and adds to the habitat. Maybe it is food for some other living thing. Maybe it keeps some microscopic organism from taking over. Maybe it just is. A manifestation of the variety and wonder of creation.

Rit reflected on her own life in a small little town, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of big cities, but with plenty of action and challenges of its own. She lives there and makes a contribution, however small, to the people and places she touches.

We talked about suffering. About struggle. About politics and how this election is likely the most important one in our lifetimes. What direction will our next president take the country? What will be the vision of our country? We hope it is Obama’s. One that takes the poor and their needs seriously.

The conversation wends back to our personal struggles and the part they play in transforming the world, no matter how slightly. We, and that nameless creature in the cave at Davis Memorial. (I tried to look it up. No luck. If the Division of Natural Resources can help, I will let you know.) And the millions of other people who make it through, one day at a time, saying something kind. Providing help or encouragement.

“Everyone’s life counts,” I told my young transsexual daughter who, at that time, I thought was my very depressed son. She couldn’t see how she would ever fit into the world. She has. And does. And makes a difference.

Rita would understand. And when she called back to continue our conversation a while after our first had ended, I smiled and told her what I was doing at that moment: I was writing about her in the little journal that holds notes on my blessings, lest I forget.

Thank you, Rita. And Happy Birthday!

PHOTO: Mary van Balen No, not a “lousy T-shirt.” While admitting to a bit of beach envy, I was happy to receive the bounty of my brother-in-law’s garden and produce from their refrigerator which would not last the week. Michael’s homegrown eggplant, peppers, tomatoes, and potatoes inspired me to create my own ratatouille this morning. I threw in some zucchini, onion, garlic, and fresh basil and thyme snipped in the rain from my potted herb garden.

Not only do I have lunch and dinner for a couple of days, I have an apartment filled with the earthy aromas of fresh vegetables and herbs. A perfect compliment to a grey, rainy morning.

With food prepared, the remainder of my day is free for writing, prayer, and errands that pile up waiting for a day off. As I go about my work the fragrance earth’s bounty will tease my appetite and the words of the Psalmist will fill my heart:

Bless the Lord, my soul!
Lord God, how great you are,
clothed in majesty and glory,
wrapped in light as in a robe!…

You founded the earth on its base,
to stand firm from age to age.
You wrapped it with the ocean like a cloak:
the waters stood higher than the mountains.

At your threat they took flight;
at the voice of your thunder they fled.
They rose over the mountains and flowed down
to the place which you had appointed.
You set limits they might not pass
lest they return to cover the earth….

From your dwelling you water the hills;
earth drinks its fill of your gift.
You make the grass grow for the cattle
and the plants to serve our needs,
that we may bring forth bread from the earth
and wine, to cheer our hearts;
oil, to make our faces shine
and bread to strengthen our hearts…

I will sing to the Lord all my life,
make music to my God, while I live.
May my thoughts be pleasing to God.
I find my joy in the Lord….

Bless the Lord, my soul.

from Psalm 104

News coverage of the riots and deaths stemming from rage at the short movie, “Innocence of Muslims” reminded me of a Catholic News Agency article by Michele Bauman I read in my local diocesan paper a couple of weeks ago. It’s title, “Study Reveals Increasing Hostility in US Toward Religion” caught my attention. “I’m not surprised,” I thought, and placed it on my desk, intending to comment in this blog. There the article remained until this morning’s news moved me to write the post.

First, a little background on the groups that put out the study cited in the CNA article. One, the Liberty Institute headed by Kelly Shackelford, is a conservative Christian advocacy group that focuses much of its attention on pro bono legal cases involving people or churches who believe their first amendment rights are being violated on the grounds of their Christian faith. A prominent case, dubbeded the “Candy Cane Case,” defends the right of a young student to bring candy canes with a religious story attached to the class Christmas party.

The second organization is Family Research Council, headed by Tony Perkins. This group was designated a “hate group” by the Southern Poverty Law Center in 2010 for its dissemination of “false and denigrating propaganda about LGBT people.” The Human Rights Campaign’s president, Chad Griffin writes in the Washington Post’s Opinion page that “The real issue is the Family Research Council’s well documented and continuous pattern of hateful rhetoric.” Hardly credentials for writing about hostility against a group of people.

I downloaded the Executive Summary of “Survey of Religious Hostility in America” and as one would expect from such groups, the only “religious hostilities” mentioned are those perceived against Christians or Christian churches or causes. What about cases of hostility against Muslims, Jews, or non-believers? Our country is not homogenous in any way: ethnicity, race, or religion. As a country we must be respectful of everyone’s right to believe and worship, or not, according to his or her beliefs or lack of belief.

Such respect was not given to Muslim believers by the makers of the film mentioned above, ridiculing Mohammed and portraying him as violent and obsessed with sex. According to an AP article by Michale R. Blood, the permit for the film has been connected to a Christian charity, Media for Christ. Sigh.

So you see why, when I saw the headlines of the CNA article in my local Catholic paper, my response was not surprise. With hate-filled rhetoric and religious extremists on every side, why wouldn’t the general public have less and less respect for religion? Why one might feel hostility toward organized churches is not difficult to comprehend.

I am not advocating it, of course. Most people who attend religious services and who claim belief in God do not go out and make offensive movies, hurl bricks through windows of Muslim owned businesses (This comes to mind from conversations with friends in Minnesota who are trying to reach out to the Somali population there.), or denigrate Jews. It just doesn’t go along with believing in a loving God.

Nor does spewing hate-filled rhetoric about gay, lesbian, transsexuals, or transgendered people. Or people of minority races. Or atheists. Or anyone else.

Like most God-fearing people, I am tired of the extreme wings of any faith grabbing headlines and that is what the CNA article has done. It, and articles like it, fan the flames of violence and intolerance that are spreading around the world.

Let’s look for leadership from places other than those who plant themselves squarely on the far fringes of believers.

“Lament” clay sculpture by Connie Butler As much as I would prefer to leave Sister Simone Campbell’s joyful presence standing at the top of my blog posts for a few days, this story demands comment. On Thursday, Sept. 6, 2012, Bishop Robert Finn of the diocese of Kansas City-Saint Joseph, was found guilty of a misdemeanor count of failing to reportsuspected child abuse. Unlike most recent cases (see my blogpost on Msgr. Lynn’s trial or the NYT’s article on his conviction.) this offense occurred in 2011, ten years after the American Catholic Bishops made reporting such abuse part of their recommended policies. (I say “recommended” because in the end, the bishops answer only to the authority of the Pope.)

While this event marks the first time a bishop has been found guilty and sentenced in a civil court, something that gives me hope for future moves to accountability, the slight sentence of probation is a disappointment. Not that I take pleasure in seeing someone sent to prison, but the damage done to at least one boy and likely other children at the hands of a priest protected by his superior, is not reflected in the punishment given to Bishop Finn. It reflects a lack of understanding, putting the case in the best possible light, of children and the lifelong effects of such abuse. Bishop Finn should resign, and if he doesn’t, he should be removed.

Today,iOL News quoted Barbara Dorris, outreach director of the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests, saying, “Only jail time would have made a real difference here and deterred future horrific cover-ups, anything less will not produce any meaningful reform.”

The Catholic hierarchy is notoriously secretive. When they backslide again it will be hard to catch them, everyone involved must be hyper vigilant if kids are truly to be safe.”

Her comments reflect the frustration of many who are outraged that members of the hierarchy involved in coverup and placing pedophiles in positions where they had access to children have not accepted responsibility for their culpability as enablers of sexual abuse of children.

Would women in the ranks of clergy and hierarchy had made a difference? As a woman, mother, and educator, I think “yes.” We, of course, will never know the answer to that question. Still, as weak as the sentencing of Bishop Finn is, this conviction does hold some hope that those involved in such horrible crimes are not above the reach of civil law. Admitting to their part in these scandals and accepting the consequences would go far in healing the Church. As Bishop Conlon of Joliet, IL said“Our credibility on the subject of child abuse is shredded.” He compared today’s situation with that of the Reformation, when not only local clerics were discredited, but the bishops and pope as well.

I hope the other bishops and the Vatican are listening.

(Photo of Bishop Finn: Tammy Ljungblad)

Sister Simone Campbell at the DNC On Wednesday, the Nuns on the Bus arrived at the Democratic National Convention and one of them, Sister Simone Campbell, stood on the podium to remind those with ears to hear that the Romney/Ryan budget “failed a moral test,” echoing the statement of the United States bishops.

Sister Simone, executive director of NETWORK, and a group of sisters traveled through nine states, spreading their message of concern about the budget adopted by the Republican party, a budget that would cause great harm to those most vulnerable in our country by cutting funding to programs that provide help to those who need it.

In light of the difficulties between the US Catholic Bishops and the members of the Leadership Council of Women Religious, some might have been surprised to hear Sister Campbell align herself with the bishops at the beginning of her remarks. However, on the issue of the Romney/Ryan budget, they agree. As Sister Campbell explained, despite Congressman Ryan’s claim that “his budget reflects the principles of our shared Catholic faith,” it would hurt those who live in poverty.

She shared poignant stories of individuals she met while on the bus tour: two young boys trying to care for a sick mother, a woman who died of cancer when loss of her job meant loss of health care, a man who depends on food stamps to help feed his family since his employer reduced his hours.

“I am my sister’s keeper. I am my brother’s keeper,” she said.

“Whatever you do to the least of these, you do to me.” Those are Jesus’ words.

As election day approaches, people of faith, no matter the denomination, have much to consider, including the implications of adoption of the Republican budget that includes huge tax cuts for the wealthiest, repeal of the Affordable Care Act, and budget cuts in programs like food stamps.

You can watch a video of Sister Campbell’s remarks here or read the text here. The Catholic News Service April 19, 2012 article, “Letters to Congress: USCCB opposes proposed cuts in services to poor”can be read here.

While thinking them over, you might also think about what is happening in New York, the home turf of another Catholic speaker at the DNC, Archbishop Timothy Cardinal Dolan, president of the USCCB. Despite saying he was not endorsing any candidate while he prayed at both conventions, in his archdiocese, a parish priest reprinted a letter written by six former US ambassadors to the Vatican, encouraging “… our fellow Catholics, and indeed all people of good will, to join with us in this full-hearted effort to elect Governor Mitt Romney as the next President of the United States.”

A petition is making its way around the Internet, asking the archbishop to instruct the priests in his archdiocese to refrain from putting such partisan material in their bulletins. I hope Dolan heeds its message and holds the priests to USCCB’s standard of not endorsing either candidate or party as stated in their booklet, “Faithful Citizenship: A Catholic Call to Political Responsibility”

“Our Church does not offer contributions or endorsements. Instead, we raise a series of questions, seeking to help lift up the moral and human dimensions of the choices facing voters and candidates.”

I am reminded of another person Sister Campbell met while on the bus tour. A thirty-something woman, who felt isolated by the political polarization in her community, asked for names of people she might contact. She longs for people to listen to one another rather than yell. Sister Campbell reassured her that she is not alone.

I know that is true, but the campaign has already been full of vicious attacks and promises to become uglier. Church leaders should be busy about articulating the values that are the foundation of our faith, and trust in the goodness and good sense of the faithful to discern the truth and vote their conscience.