“All Saints Day 1” by Kadinsky Like most American’s, I am prepared to greet young costumed visitors at my door with small bars of chocolate and a smile. In this part of the country, unlike the east coast, weather is cooperating with crisp air and clear skies. I have never been one to jump into this holiday with extravagant costumes, but I did enjoy the years my children came up with creative outfits. There was the “laundry basket,” that was a big hit with everyone who saw my daughter approaching in the middle of a plastic hamper with bottom cut out for her legs, stuffed with towels. She carried a cleaned out laundry detergent bottle to hold her loot. She wasn’t as fond of the costume since it made climbing steps difficult.

We had a pac-man that won “most original” in the school contest, and a cheetah with spots hand-painted on orange sweats and a homemade head cap with ears. We have let loose on the streets a Magic Parrot (don’t try to find it. It is an obscure Disney film character.), a ballerina, mad scientists with smoking beakers, egyptian gods, well, the list goes on and on.

I remember my first grade year when my mother borrowed a poodle costume from my aunt. It was a hit, but I had to appear in many classrooms and bark when asked to show it off. Not my favorite halloween.

Later, the Catholic schools I attended had “All Saints” day celebrations instead of Halloween parties and the halls were filled with white garbed Marys with heads draped in blue, bearded St. Josephs, and the ever present St. Patrick. A couple angels made appearances too.

I don’t go in for the fear tactic of evangelizing would be halloween celebrants with “Hell Scare” scenarios popular with some evangelical churches. I say, let the kids trick or treat, count and sort their candy (good math practice if you think about it), and eat it til its gone. You might want to help a bit. I’ve been known to raid one of my children’s stash on a gloomy November day when I convinced myself that a piece of candy would remedy my mood.

Still, knowing the history of the name “Halloween” and celebrating the two days that follow are good practices, too.

“Halloween” evolved from the Old English “All Hallows” and in the 16th century, the Scottish “Hallow Even” (Hallow Evening) that named the vigil of the feast of All Saints, which in the Roman Catholic tradition, is celebrated on November 1. That is a good day to remember not only those people canonized by the RC church, but also the unnamed millions who lived a good life, faithful to who God made them to be, who have passed from earthly life. I am sure we all know many. The variety and vitality of “saints” is captured in Kadinsky’s painting.

All Souls Day, a day of prayer for those who have died but are not yet purified of the result of their sins, is commemorated on Nov. 2 in the Roman Catholic church. Those still waiting to be in the presence of God, the “beatific vision,” are those in need of prayer. In some countries, people visit cemeteries and decorate them with flowers and candles on Nov. 1 and 2.

Both these feasts celebrate those who have lived life with all its difficulties and challenges. This is a day to remember the saying often attributed to Plato but of unknown origin: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Life is hard. Period. For some, harder than for others. Being faithful while living it requires strength of will and soul. I believe the Holy One looks upon all who make the journey with mercy and a loving embrace. That makes me a believer in universal salvation, I suppose, but I don’t claim to know, just to believe in a God who can and does love into Love the worst as well as the best of human kind. One could resist. C.S. Lewis’s book, “The Great Divorce,” comes to mind. Being created as we have been, we are free to refuse God’s love and choose isolation instead. Such a reality is difficult for me to imagine, but I suppose it could happen.

One of life’s challenges is to live it in a way that allows the Love that is irresistible to touch those we meet; to move those who most need to feel it.

Remember that when you smile at the little ones and their parents who show up at your door tonight.

Hapy Hallow E’en!

Detail from icon written by Br. Robert Lentz Today, Pope Benedict XVI has travelled to Assisi to hold a world day of prayer for peace on the 25th anniversary of the first interfaith world day of prayer for peace convened in Assisi by Pope John Paul II in 1986. An AP article, Rainbow of Religious Leaders Join Pope for Peace ,describes the gathering of some 300 religious leaders as well as a few agnostics. Unlike the event it commemorates, this day did not include a communal prayer, but provided quiet time for individual prayer for peace.

Religious belief never provides justification for violence and terrorism, and this diverse group reaffirms that truth.

Why Assisi? St. Francis of Assisi is known as a man of simplicity and peace. A lesser known fact, however, is that in 1219 during the crusades, he travelled across the battle lines (perhaps during a cease fire that followed a ferocious battle, to speak with the Sultan of Egypt, hoping to convert him and thus end the bloodshed.(Francis also thought he might earn martyrdom in the process.) The only reliable reports were that the Sultan received Francis with hospitality and the two of them conversed about matters of faith.

Early biographers of St. Francis say they both respected one another, and though the crusade continued, the Sultan assured Francis’ safe return across enemy lines. Stories are told about the Sultan converting to Christianity on his deathbed, but those, of course, may just be stories.

What is important to those of us who pray for peace today is that two leaders from different faiths and different states in life, met with respect and listened to one another. I imagine both came away from the meeting changed in some way. Both surely had to have grown in respect for the other.

Today’s gathering at Assisi holds a similar promise. It reminds us of the necessity of listening to one another with respect; of joining our prayers for peace, and coming away from the experience with hope that the God Who Hears All will dwell in our hearts and move them to work for peace with love, not with violence.

The Way I am soon off to work, but want to take a moment to recommend the movie, “The Way.” You can follow the link to learn more about it.

This blog takes its name from the symbol of the great pilgrimage route, Camino de Santiago: the scallop shell. The shell has become a universal symbol for pilgrim. As I watched the movie, I became a pilgrim along with the others, carrying my life and my need with them to the Cathedral of St. James. What was true for them is true for me, for all pilgrims on their journey: The WAY not the destination, is what changes us.

See the movie when you are able!

Sr. Bonifacia You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt. You shall not abuse any widow or orphan. If you do abuse them, when they cry out to me, I will surely heed their cry; my wrath will burn, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children orphans. If you lend money to my people, to the poor among you, you shall not deal with them as a creditor; you shall not exact interest from them. If you take your neighbor’s cloak in pawn, you shall restore it before the sun goes down; for it may be your neighbor’s only clothing to use as cover; in what else shall that person sleep? And if your neighbor cries out to me, I will listen, for I am compassionate. Ex 22. 21-27

This reading reminds us that aliens, the poor, widows, children are with us always.
We know only too well that “alien” does not mean only those from a country other than that where they reside. One can be an “alien” through poverty, sexual orientation, gender identity, sex, or race. We can feel “alien” when we are not understood, when our work is unappreciated, when we are lonely.

Exodus states clearly how God expects us to relate to those suffering alienation in our midst. We are to serve. We are to love. We are to be a reflection of the Holy One who names herself “Compassion.”

Today the pope canonized three new saints. two of whom reached out to women, One, Spanish nun Sister Bonifacia Rodriguez de Castro, a cord maker, founded an order that served poor women, providing them with a safe place to work. Hers was a prophetic voice that spoke quietly through her creation of a community of women that challenged prevailing assumptions about the place and role of women in the world. She offered an alternative to women who often were (and still are in many places here and around the world) abused and powerless.

At a time when even entering a religious order often required wealth and a dowery, Bonifacia’s order and workshop accepted all; those who were physically able earned money by making cords or lace and gave their profits to a general fund,enabling those who could not work to remain.

She thought “outside the box,” creating something new. God was her strength. The home of her parents’ and that of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, a home where money was made simply in their workshop, were her inspiration.

Even her craft, learned as a child from her parents in their home workshop is prophetic. Cords hold together, connect, strengthen: often the gifts women bring to the world. Bonifacia and her workshops where cords, prayer, friendship, and support flourished, challenges us to become aware of those around us who are in need and to respond as we are able.

Another canonized today was Rev. Luigi Guanella, an italian priest who spend his adult life caring for the poor, orphans, and handicapped. For a while, he worked with Saint John Bosco, caring for homeless children. Fr. Guanella travelled to Chicago to work with Italian immigrants and founded two orders that still serve those in need in a number of countries.

Both these holy people gave their lives in service to the most vulnerable of God’s people. They were open to receive God’s love and to be God’s hands and heart on earth. They were Compassion.

How can we follow their lead in our lives? How can we, like Bonifacia, think “outside the box” and live in a way that is counter cultural? Instead of being caught up in an obsession with celebrity, materialism, and wealth, how can we be committed to the forgotten, to service, and to simplicity?

How can we, too, be Compassion?

and an Italian priest who worked with the poor, the Rev. Luigi Guanella.

PHOTO: Hose Luis Hernandez Zurdo The parable of the barren fig tree is today’s gospel reading. After three years of waiting for fruit from the tree, the orchard owner was ready to cut it down. Why not plant something else? The gardener had another idea. “Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future. If not you can cut it down.” LK 13.8-9.

His remark brought another type of cultivation to mind. What do I do to “cultivate the ground” where my soul sinks its roots? What do I do that nurtures my spirit and enables me to share what I have been given?

Our lives are full of choices. How do we spend time? When at work, are we mindful of what we are doing, finding ways to serve even in positions that seem unlikely places for meeting God or sharing Goodness with others? And time when we are not at work?

What do we read? Are we aware of creation that surrounds us? The night sky? The shapes of clouds? Are we mindful and present to the moment? When we are not, we do not allow the Grace of the moment to soak our soul as it might, and our spirits can become hard and dry, like uncultivated ground.

I imagine Jesus is the gardner who is patient and loving rather than the owner of the orchard who was annoyed and ready to give up on the tree. Jesus will give me what I need to be fruitful. Yes, the Holy One provides, but I must be receptive. I have responsibility as the gardener, as well. We garden together, God and I. God and all of us. Together, we bear fruit for the world.
© 2011 Mary van Balen

WIDOW’S MITE PHOTO: Mary van Balen “Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more.” Lk 12. 48

Today’s gospel reading begins with Jesus warning “…if the Master of the house had known the hour when the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come….” LK 12. 39-41

Peter asks if this message is meant for the disciples or for everyone. Jesus continues with the story of servants who do good and faithful work while their master is away. When the master returns, the servant is rewarded by increased responsibilities. The servant who abuses power while the master is away, squandering food and drink and mistreating those in his care will be punished and demoted from a position of trust to one of severe servitude.

He ends with the advice much is expected from those who are given much.

Who IS given much? What are their responsibilities? Unlike Peter, I know these words are meant for me, for all of us, today. One thing I pondered is the “much.” Jesus didn’t say money, or power, or material goods. He just said “much. The servant stewards in the story were given responsibility to dispense the master’s goods to the other servants.It is the sharing, not of their own goods, but those of the master, that was required.

Where does that leave me or any of us? Some of us have plenty of material wealth; others of us are just scraping by, or worse. Some of God’s people have no jobs or homes. Some are living in countries suffering drought, war, and disease. How can these words be addressed to us all? Surely, we cannot all be generous in the same way.

I think of the widow who dropped her small coin in the temple money box. It was all she had. What moved her to do such a thing? Working in a low paying job, I am trying not to dip into retirement savings. I am not moved to give it all away. That would be irresponsible in my world, I tell myself. And it would be. I don’t believe that wealth or worldly success is a sign of God’s favor or a divine reward for hard work or “pulling one’s self up by one’s bootstraps.”

Still, Jesus’ advice must be taken to heart. God has entrusted each of us with the Gift of Divine Self, dwelling within. THAT is the treasure we are responsible for sharing: God’s life and love. HOW we each do that, well, that is as varied as we are. I may not have and abundance of money, but I have an ear to listen and a heart to hold those who need compassion and support. I have a home to welcome others. I have a gift with words and so am called to share God’s love through my writing. A parent may give most generously by loving her children so they, too, will be able to know God’s love in themselves.

We have different gifts, but as Scripture tells us, we have One Spirit. You may have an abundance of wealth and material goods. How you use them is directed by the Grace of Self that God has shared with you. You may be an artist, a parent, a teacher, a doctor, a receptionist. You may be unemployed. What you do and how much you have is not the central message of Jesus’ story.

How we share what dwells within, that is the point. We will never know what events or thoughts moved the widow to give away her last bit of money. What we do know is that somehow, it was a response to the God Grace that lived in her heart. She held the good of others above her own needs.

What does Love required of us, right where we are? Patience? A large monetary donation to a food pantry? A quarter given to a beggar on the street? If we are still, and spend time with the Holy One, and listen to the Spirit’s movements in our soul, we will know.

An afterthought: As I read the chapter of Luke that contained today’s gospel, I saw that that today’s reading came after Jesus told those who had gathered to hear him not to be concerned about what they would eat and drink. Not to store up goods and treasures. Working in retail, I am bracing for the onslaught of holiday shopping. Consumerism rears its head especially at this time of year, at least in this country. Perhaps as we approach the season of giving we can keep in mind the truest gift we can give. It comes not FROM us but rather THROUGH us; God’s Presence.

Caryll Houselander Last week I was feeling particularly discouraged. Selling intimate apparel was never my dream job! As I spoke with customers and cleaned out fitting rooms that had been left a mess, I wondered what a person with a graduate degree, an educator, and author was doing in my position. The Holiday shopping season looming ahead did littel to brighten my mood.

I guess I had forgotten the lessons learned from Brother Lawrence about “Practicing the Presence of God.” Reading through some of the reflections in Liturgical Press’s new monthly prayer guide, “Give Us This Day,” reminded me of the call to be present to God in the ordinary events of our lives.

The October “Blessed Among Us” reflection highlighted a woman I have read, Caryll Houselander, an English laywoman mystic whose vocation was to help others become aware of Christ in our world. She was not the stereotypical mystic. She enjoyed a drinking, battled for twenty years to give up chain-smoking, and was left broken hearted by the man she loved. She never married.

Her mystical visions were of Christ in those around her. In one, she saw him suffering in a Bavarian nun, who being German, suffered discrimination during WWII in England. In another, she saw Christ in each person in a busy railway station. In some he was rejoicing, happy, in others, suffering and in pain. Her first book. This War Is the Passion,”was written in 1941 and presented the sufferings of those traumatized by WWII through the perspective of the passion of Christ.

She was an artist, a wood carver, but later in her life, writing became her primary artistic expression.She wrote numerous books, articles, poems, and articles for children. For all that, she saw her primary vocation expressed through interactions with others, particularly those on the fringes of society, those no one else wanted to be with.

She had a gift of helping children scarred by the war and though she had no training, often was sought out to counsel them. She gave her time and heart to the mentally ill, the poor, the distraught. Through all, she saw Christ in every one. Caryll Houselander died of breast cancer in 1954.

Another woman who was highlighted in the October issue of “Give Us This Day” was someone I had not heard of before: Madeleine Delbrel. She was a Frenchwoman, daughter of a railroad worker. After considering becoming a nun, she decided her call was to be with ordinary people in the world. The reflection includes this quote: “We, the ordinary people of the streets, believe that this street, this world, where God has placed us, is our place of holiness.”

I read and thought she probably would include the department store where I work in her “place of holiness.” Like Caryll Houselander, Madeleine was aware of God’s presence in those she met. Ordinary acts like answering a phone or, I suppose, selling a bra, can be a way of sharing God’s love and friendship with others. No need for a church or ritual, her work was reaching out to others wherever she was.

Along with some friends, she established a small community near Paris. As I read this, I recognized my own need for a community with whom to share my work, my struggle, my prayer. Together they served the working poor.

Like Brother Lawrence, she developed a simple spirituality of becoming aware of the presence of God in the most ordinary experiences. She called her spirituality the “Prayer of the Agenda.”

I have written a book of reflections on my efforts to see the Sacred in our midst, “All Earth Is Crammed With Heaven,” but I need reminded. We all do.

We need reminded that we need not travel far, accomplish feats that gain us fame, or even hold a well paying job. We need to share Christ’s love and compassion with all we meet. We need to see God in the poor and outcast, the abused women and hungry children, the victims of war and terrorism. We need to be Christ for others. God’s work is done in the world and one the street; in the home and classrooms; in the office, and sometimes, in department stores.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen When my daughter briefly entered graduate school in science and math education, she did a short stint in an affluent suburban high school physics class. Besides being disappointed in the interest and knowledge base of the students, she was surprised by the software being used. Instead of actually building small “contraptions” to test various energy sources (springs, levers, weights, etc) the students manipulated models on a computer program.

“If the spring didn’t work, ‘click,’ they replaced it with something else. If that didn’t work, ‘click.’ No one was invested in the project. They didn’t have to be. They just clicked their way to the correct answer, not having to give much thought let alone time to the process.”

I thought of this conversation while reading an article in the Oct 8 edition of the New York Times, “Inflating the Software Report Card,” by Trip Gavriel and Matt Richtel. Basically, the article reviewed rating systems for the success of computer based curricula and found them misleading.

My experience as a teacher and programming director as well as being the mom of three children tells me that acting on concrete materials is indispensable in the process of learning. Unfortunately, many students have few opportunities to do that with teachers being forced to focus on high stakes test scores for both curricula development and their evaluation.

When my children were young, a well-meaning educator suggested that I enroll them in summer school for the gifted. I said I would rather have them climbing trees, playing in the creek, and getting bored enough that they had to dig deep and find things to do. (That often ended up with art projects, contraptions built in the basement, a hut built with the help of cousins, elaborate imaginary games, etc.)

Years later, one daughter used her understanding of life’s interdependence gained through hours of playing and observation in the creek at as the organizing theme for her Rhodes Scholar application.

I am not saying that computer and technology have no place in today’s classrooms. Certainly they do; they are an increasingly important part of the world in which our children live. I am saying that concrete experiences undergird virtual experiences. Measuring out ingredients to bake a batch of cookies or make a blob of “super clay,” help kids understand what fractions are all about. Trying to build a bridge out of toothpicks to hold weight, or make a car powered by a mousetrap help students understand geometry and stored energy.

Wasting time” mixing concoctions of baking soda, vinegar, and cabbage juice can whet the appetite for chemistry. Keeping a microscope in a kitchen cupboard, making place for a chemistry set in the basement, having art supplies easily accessible, taking long walks and picking up bugs and plants…all these things are, at some stages, more important than playing computer games or learning math online.

I recently visited friends who have a two year old daughter, their first. Someone had given her a plastic “computer” on which she could play games. My friends had yet to install the batteries, not sure how much they wanted their little one to spend time with it.

I say, more time should be spent baking together, reading books, exploring the backyard and parks, making puppets, taking walks, playing with water toys and cups in the sink or bathtub. Go to hands-on children’s museums, have messy things like finger paint, water colors, chalks, and clay around the house. And “play” with her. When she paints, you paint some too. Let her see you write more than a check and read more than the newspaper.

I probably sound old fashioned. Computers and technology are critical parts of our children’s world and are an important part of their education. Children without computer savvy are at a disadvantage. Still, computers cannot replace foundational experiences and are not the best way to “teach” everything from reading to physics.

In addition, immersion in creation and interacting with it teaches even more than the obvious. The age of electronic and virtual worlds is also the age when developing respect for creation and concern for human impact on it is as critical as developing intellectual concepts and computer skills.

Cleaning bones found on a walk and figuring out what animal they came from or framing a recent artistic creation provides opportunities for developing relationship, respect, and a sense of wonder that clicking a mouse does not.

© 2011 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen Almost two months have passed since my last blog. The reasons are many. The most important is the passing of my father, Joseph Van Balen. My siblings and I have shared Dad’s care for about two years. Despite evenings when I wanted to drive home after a long day at work rather than drive to have dinner and a walk with Dad, I was always richer for having spent time with him. I hope the hours we spent together were as much a blessing for him as they were for me.

He was a gentle man who touched the lives not only of his family, but of everyone who walked through his door. Along with Mom, he had an easy way of making visitors feel special, giving them undivided attention and, of course, food and drink.

He was a wonderful father providing unconditional love to each of us. Once, a friend who was a priest told me he wanted to meet my father. He gave Dad much credit for my knowing of God as loving Presence in my life. How true that parents are a child’s first glimpse of God, the one they trust, the one they depend on. Mom and Dad gave us experience of unlimited love that could be counted on, no matter what.

As a teenager, I remember a conversation Dad and I had in his workshop. He was covering a board with fabric for one of my projects: I had decided to participate in an art contest through my high school. Even though I had not taken an art class, the instructor agreed to sponsor my entry. My plan was to paint a pregnant Mary standing in front of her young husband.

I held the board while Dad stretched the fabric. After we talked about the contest and my idea, conversation turned to another dream: Writing a book.

“You know, honey, if anyone can do it, you can. If you want to write a book, you will!”

He said it with a smile and a confidence that left no doubt in my mind that eventually, I would do just that. And I knew when I did, that he and Mom would be the proudest ones around when it happened. They were.

As my life settles back into some sort of routine, I will continue with this blog.

Dad would approve with a smile and hug.

While cleaning my parents’ home, I came across a framed print of the Sacred Heart of Jesus that hung in their bedroom. Devotion to the Sacred Heart was not big in our home. I think someone gave the picture to my mother, a convert, when she entered the Catholic Church. Jesus always looked a little wimpy to me, and I couldn’t get into the “heart on his chest” image. I donated the print to a local Saint Vincent de Paul shop figuring someone who frequented the store might want it.

Beginning the search for an image to place in this blog, I was sure I would recognize the painting. I don’t know why, but I was surprised at the number of choices that popped up. I scrolled through the pages expecting one to jump out at me with its familiarity. In one Jesus is barely able to balance the huge gold crown on his head while balancing a globe on his left hand. Lest one lose sight of the heart, he obligingly pointed it out with his right hand.

There was the buff Jesus of Salvador Dali and countless pale, curly haired ones. In some Jesus was holding out his heart, offering it to us. In others, he held it looking for all the world like someone who wasn’t sure why he was holding his heart that should be in his chest and wondering what to do with it. Hearts were big and small, pierced, thorn-crowned, and cross-topped. Bleeding, glowing. Take your pick.

So I did. I just picked the one least offensive to me since none hit the nostalgia button. I remember the print in my parents room as warm, painted in shades of browns and gold, except of course, the heart. For my entire life I looked at it as a bit of pious sentimentality that I happily did without.
Then, yesterday, I read about St. John Eudes (1601-1680) on Universalis and changed my mind. Not that I would have any of the images that popped up on my computer screen, but I had a different take on the Sacred Heart of Jesus thanks to St. John.

He preached over a hundred missions combating Jansenism which taught that human beings were riddled with original sin and try as they might, would likely never attain the perfection required for salvation. The Church was corrupt which, as the author of the Universalis article points out, seems to be a perennial problem. It’s priests were either wealthy and busy protecting their entitlements and power or poor and uneducated.

John spent many years as a priest ministering to those who suffered from the Plague that engulfed France, isolating himself from others in his order lest he infect them with the disease. Eventually he left the order and founded a new order to educate priests. Johsn was also moved by the women he saw in the streets, women “of ill repute” who had no place to go and no one to care for them. He found women to help and eventually another order emerged to give refuge and spiritual nurture to them.

As one who has worked with poor, abused women, I am sure many in not most of those homeless women on the streets were not prostitutes by choice. Some things don’t change. Just as the Church today must deal with its issues of corruption, power-protection and scandal, women are still abused and used. This is where St. John’s take on the Sacred Heart hooked me.

The great heart of Jesus is not something isolated, like so many painting and sculptures portray. It is firmly planted within Jesus’s chest, aching, longing to help, eager to welcome. It is, as John Eudes said, “the emotional core of Jesus.” Jesus is not judgmental or condemning, as the Jansenites preached. He did not care about power or money or position. He is Love. Pure, simple, encompassing Love.

The last words in the Universalis article are: “And over and over again we find God’s grace acting through people like St John Eudes. They do not stand outside and complain or run campaigns, they go in and do things, removing the mould of worldly corruption and putting back, bit by bit, the leaven of grace. They will always be needed, until the world ends. “

I am challenged, we all are, to be the heart of Jesus in our world, in our time. How we do it depends on our gifts, our call. But the Sacred Heart of Jesus is beating in each of us. It is up to us to let Love flow from it to those who most need to feel its warm embrace.