Last night I attended a lecture by John Allen, journalist and senior correspondent for the National Catholic Reporter and senior Vatican analyst for CNN. The topic of his presentation was “The Future Church.” Mr. Allen listed ten trends that are shaping the Catholic Church today and picked a few to comment on at length. One, “The Rise of the Global South,” was a topic of conversation at a late dinner with friends after the talk. The numbers he presented were overwhelming.

In 1900, out of 266 million Catholics, 200 million lived in the North (Europe and N. America). 66 million lived everywhere else. In 2000, out of 1100 million Catholics, 720 million lived in the Southern Hemisphere while 380 million lived in Europe and N. America. By 2050, three quarters of Catholics will live in the Global South.

The numbers speak for themselves. What remained with me as I arrived at home was not the effect that the values and priorities of the majority of Catholics will have on the Church and its policies, though we are already seeing that and will undoubtably see more. What remained with me was a personal sense of smallness. I am one, tiny part of a huge world.

Sometimes, living and working in our own places and spaces, we can forget the vastness of our world and the variety of the people who fill it. Our concerns, our issues, our immediate milieu become “our world.” That is natural. News and photos from around the world give us a more global look, but I think what is most often in our thoughts is day to day life where we are and where our family and friends are.

Mr. Allen’s numbers snapped me into an awareness of the changing demographics of the world and my “world’s” small place in it.

This makes the Incarnation all the more mysterious. Who am I, who is any one of us, past or present, that the Creator of all things would come to be with us? Would reveal the Divine Self to us in flesh and blood?

True, we are like grains of sand on an endless beach, but Advent reminds us that the Holy One cares for each of us, whether from North or South, East or West. Then numbers from Mr. Allen’s talk were humbling. In another way they are cause for wonder at the Love that finds each of us worth living and dying for.

The Incarnation is ongoing, within each of us. Becoming more aware of those around us and those around the world who need our help is one way to “keep Advent” and to join in Chirst’s work of bringing the Kingdom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, but life does not unfold so neatly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PHOTO: Mary van Balen PICASSO PLATE – GIFT FROM WOMAN ACTIVE IN THE FRENCH PEACE MOVEMENT The Scripture reading from Morning Prayer today (Proverbs 8. , 32-36) as well as the OT reading from Mass (Ws 7. 22b-8.1) speak of the importance of seeking Wisdom and Understanding: “Happy are those who keep my ways. Listen to instruction and grow wise…Happy the one who listens to me, attending daily at my gates, keeping watch at my doorstep.”

Opening oneself to Wisdom is a daily affair. The Holy One is always pouring out Divine Self, Wisdom, and we are called to “attend daily.”

The reading from Mass beautifully describes Wisdom in all her feminine glory. She is spirit, which means, as any reference to Spirit or to Holy One, that Wisdom/Spirit is neither male or female as we define gender. Spirit is beyond human gender. Of course, Christians are accustomed to hearing male pronouns when reading or speaking about God. Today’s reading from Wisdom is refreshingly filled with feminine pronouns – perhaps more noticeable to the women among us.

The author a long list of attributes. Here are a few for your reflection:

“For Wisdom is mobile beyond all motion and she penetrates and pervades all things by reason of her purity.”

“For she is an aura of the might of God and a pure effusion of the glory of the Almighty.”

“And she, who is one, can do all things and renews everything while herself perduring; And passing into holy souls from age to age, she produces friends of God and prophets.”

Wisdom is presented as a feminine face of God…as the Spirit who dwells in each of us.

Holy Wisdom, One worthy of our daily attention.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen I took advantage of a day off to accomplish a number of things: doctor appointment, hair cut, and repotting plants. The day was too beautiful not to spend some of it outside and my hospitable friend, Melanie happily offered her time and her place. We have walked paths that wind across her property in every season. We have watched for comets and stars in dark hours of the morning. As I drove to her home, I felt my spirit become lighter anticipating a shared few hours.

As I approached her driveway, I noticed bluebirds on telephone wires. I slid my camera into my pocket as we began our walk. The day was bright and warm for November. We wandered through her garden, edged with drooping sunflower heads and tomato plants that had littered the ground around them with small, orangey red globes. Mint was as pushy as ever. Her basil plant had been huge, and the blue berry bush still sported green leaves.

We saw bittersweet and avoided stepping on too many walnut hulls in an effort to save our shoes. On poor tree had numerous broken branches rubbed clean of bark and shredded by rutting deer.

When I walk slowly like this, I often look down at the ground, my eyes searching for familiar plants and flowers.

“Look, Melanie, a wooly caterpillar.”

The words were barely out of my mouth before she saw another, then I saw another.They were easy to spot once we knew they were there. Melanie said she had seen lots this year. We inspected the width of brown and black segments, trying to remember what folklore said about them predicting the harshness (or mildness) of the winter ahead. I took a few photos, amazed at how fast those little critters could move. I wondered what moth or butterfly they became.

Melanie and I walked around the pond and circled by the bee hives. The man who cares for them had winterized them, but bees were busily flying in and out. In November. That seems late to me, but I am not a bee keeper. We watched for a while, and when after a simple lunch, when I left for my appointments, I stopped in the drive long enough to watch the bees again and take a few photos. Buzzing became louder, and when a bee landed on my hand, I decided the time had come to leave.

As always, an hour or a day with my friend, sharing the glories of creation, nurtures my soul and heals what is hurting. When I return home and light my beeswax candles, I will remember this morning and in the re-membering, will be open again to the healing and warmth of its grace.

From the Exultet:
We sing the glories of this pillar of fire, the brightness of which is undiminished even when its light is divided and borrowed, for it is fed by the melting wax which the bees, your servants, have made for the substance of this candle.”

Let it mingle with the lights of heaven
and continue bravely burning
to dispel the darkness of this night!

All Saints Day II by Kadinsky The short reading for today’s Sext or Midday prayer is simple and appropriate for All Saints Day: Be holy in all you do, since it is the Holy One who has called you, and scripture says: Be holy, for I am holy. Peter 1:15-16

The universal call to holiness, expressed eloquently in the Vatican II document, Lumen Gentium Chapter V, is for all, no matter their state. We are reminded of the two great commandments: Love God and love your neighbor. Holiness is not something we possess but a way we live. It is not something found only in hours on ones knees at prayer or in a church.

Holiness is the way, not the destination. It is sharing with others, with the world, the gift of Love and Divine Life placed in each of us.Being faithful to the call to holiness is difficult, yet we are given the grace to persevere. We might be surprised not only by where we are called to bring compassion, but also by who brings it to us.

God’s gifts can flow through those we least expect. Saint Benedict’s Rule instructs us to greet every visitor as Christ, especially the poor and the pilgrims:

In the reception of the poor and of pilgrims
the greatest care and solicitude should be shown,
because it is especially in them that Christ is received;
for as far as the rich are concerned,
the very fear which they inspire
wins respect for them. (RB Chapter 53)

Often the poor, the ones we least expect to help us to holiness are the ones who bless us.

Today, as we celebrate All Saints Day, let us be open to the saints who walk among us, in whatever guise.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen The morning after Halloween, my mom’s large, silver mixing bowl filled with small candy bars sits on my table, tempting me. Why not have a bit of sweet to start the morning. I had feared this would happen. Being new to the neighborhood, I had no idea if trick or treaters would find their way to my door, so I prepared with a few bags of candy bars. When my neighbor appeared outside in the afternoon ready to take a walk, I asked her about Halloween “traffic.”

“Sometimes we get a few,” she said. “But not too many. I think they don’t know which door to go to.” She motioned to the row of flats.

It also doesn’t help that my flat is located between two wealthy suburbs. I lived in one for a while and people from all over the city came with vans full of kids in costumes. It was safer. And the take was pretty good.

Before giving in to the call of a snickers bar, I prepared green beans for an evening potluck. Nothing fancy. Frozen French cut green beans, a little butter, salt, and fresh lemon juice. I toasted slivered almonds and put them on top. I saved a small dish to eat later. The longer I looked at the bright green beans and buttery almonds, the less I wanted to wait.

I had green beans for breakfast, eating slowly and savoring each bite. As I sat back enjoying the lingering flavors I wondered why candy held such an attraction. When good food tastes like this, why bombard my body with a sugar explosion that leaves me just wanting more?

Sweet, chocolate, and other desserts certainly have their place, but in a fast food environment they are too easy. Ripping open a paper wrapper or taking a bag from someone at a drive through window is quicker than taking even the few minutes needed to cook something.

I’ll see how long the delicious green bean breakfast can keep me out of the candy bowl. Just to make sure I don’t relapse, I sent most of the temptation with my daughter to share with grad students at work!

I looked