PHOTOS: Mary van Balen I have fallen into some bad habits: Eating too much junk food; staying up late; skipping exercise; watching tv; missing prayer time and blog posts. I am not sure what precipitated my “fall.” Splurging on some Easter treats and then not being able to stop? Grocery shopping when I was hungry and buying comfort foods I should have passed by? Weeks of almost incessant rain; Odd work hours?

Whatever the causes, I have paid for the slips with inability to fall asleep, restless nights, and an couple of added pounds. Headaches and lethargy often follow my bouts of sweets eating and those have made an appearance as well.

A friend of mine who struggles with weight issues said when she slips off her regimen and eats too much of the things she shouldn’t, she tells herself, “Today is a new day,” and gets back on track.

Well, today is my new day. First, the weather cooperated and I woke (after a few hours of poor sleep) to a beautiful sunny morning. The temperature was cool, 40F or so, but I love that. I opened doors and blinds and flooded the house with light.

Next I began playing Pavarotti’s Greatest Hits, started making two loaves of bread using white whole wheat, milled flax seed, and unbleached white flour. Following an old Tassajara Bread Book recipe: making a sponge first, then adding the oil, salt, and additional flour and let the Kitchen Aid Mixer do its kneading while I washed a few days worth of dishes.

When the dough was ready I placed it in an oiled bowl, covered it, placed it on a wooden TV tray by a window in the sun and left to walk to the bank and other errands while the dough raised in the sun and to the strains of La Boheme.

I noticed tiny light green oak leaves, shining with a bit of red on their tips and bags of mulch that had been waiting for a sunny day to be spread on gardens.

Back home, the dough was ready to be formed into loaves and put into bread pans to raise again. I fixed salad to eat with tomatoes and crackers, read the paper, and enjoyed the music.
An hour later two loaves of bread sat on the counter and I prepared to take a warm loaf and some real butter to my dad at the nursing home.

Today is a new day. I am sure I will slip into jags of eating potato chips and drinking cola. I will not always turn off the TV and give myself an hour or so of quiet before bed, but I will try.

Easter has come. Spring is here. And, like the robin babies in the nest on my garage, or the goslings I saw in the parking lot by work, I am ready for a new start!

PHOTOS: Mary van Balen

Therefore, let us celebrate the feast,
not with the old yeast, the yeast of malice and wickedness,
but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.
1Cor 5,8

Alleluia! He has risen. Let us rejoice…..or be filled with joy!

My sister and brother-in-law joined me for Easter Mass that was celebrated in a mixture of English and Spanish for our ethnically diverse congregation. African drums, flute, clarinet, guitar, organ, piano, bells and tambourines accompanied spirited song. One could feel Joy in the air and in the soul.

What about Easter Joy? It is neither something we can manufacture, nor, as Bishop Rowan Williams stated in his Easter sermon, something we can develop through theory or technique. Rather, Easter Joy comes upon us, grasps our heart, and enters in.

It is the Joy of Presence. Jesus promised to be with us always. The Spirit dwells in us, no matter the situations we face. Violence and hatred fracture our world. The earth groans under the weight of its inhabitants, most of whom are unaware that their lifestyles have a devastating effect on the planet. Personal tragedies, deaths, and suffering do not go away on Easter. So, what made hearts happy and voices strong enough to shake the small building that held our worshipping congregation? What made smiles quick to appear and laughter bubble up from those gathered?

Some still mourn the deaths of family members. The unemployed face a jobless Monday, again. Some battle cancer. Others care for aging and sick family members. Immigrants wonder if their families will be torn apart or if they will remain together to face an uncertain future. The church was full of suffering, unknowns, and grief. Yet, nothing was stronger than Joy.

The cross is part of the Easter journey. Jesus did not promise an easy road. He did promise that whatever our path, we would not walk it alone. When we listen deeply, the Easter story jolts us into a new vision of our lives. Like Mary and the other followers of Jesus, we are surprised and emboldened to see the world with fresh eyes. God is Present with us, in us, and in our world. That changes everything. God will rejoice with us, weep with us, and hold us when no one else does. In the end, we, too, will know new life.

May we nurture that Easter Joy even when the feast is long past and life’s challenges nibble away at our faith. May we be able to wait expectantly, quietly ready to be surprised by Joy.
© 2011 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen For just as from the heavens
the rain and snow come down
and do not return there
till they have watered the earth,
making it fertile and fruitful,
giving seed to the one who sows
and bread to the one who eats,
so shall my word be
that goes forth from my mouth;
my word shall not return to me void,
but shall do my will,
achieving the end for which I sent it.
Is 55,10-11

I love the scope of Holy Saturday readings, from creation springing from the Word of God to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary encountering the risen Christ. Immersed in these Scriptures, one may sense the long wait, the movement from matter’s beginnings to early life; from epoch to epoch; from early humans to Jesus’ ancestors; from the promise of the Messiah to his coming.

While the earth waits for winter thaw and softening ground able to receive seed, we have waited through Lent. It seems long. When my children were younger, we spent the day before Easter coloring eggs, baking hot cross buns to share with neighbors and cleaning the house for the coming celebration. Easter was not yet, but its light and joy was already spreading into our hearts.

With Jesus’ death fresh in their hearts and his resurrection unimagined and yet to come, Jesus’ followers would have had a different experience.Waiting when the past has broken hearts and the future uncertain is a darker time. As the Vigil’s readings attest, God’s people have known many period of painful waiting. We still do.

The world on this Easter Vigil night is reeling with death, violence, and war. In many countries people are waiting not for Easter celebration, but for cessation of gun fire, for freedom, for a way to provide food and shelter for their families.

In some places the wait has proved too long, and hope has died. I heard a man interviewed on NPR today who spoke of his seven years as a political prisoner as a time when “hope died.” When he heard of the revolution taking place in his country, he could not believe it. Then, when it continued for the second day he wondered if it might be true. Finally, hope stirred again in his heart. What had seemed dead had come to life; what he believed impossible was happening.

I imagine Jesus’ followers had similar feelings. When Jesus died on the cross, something inside them died as well: their expectations, as unformed as they might have been, were dashed. Their Messiah was dead and buried in a borrowed tomb. No wonder many had difficulty believing when the two women came telling them that they had seen Jesus, that he was risen from the dead.

In our lives, we, too, wait. We have hopes that have died, expectations that have not been met, dreams that have been dashed. I think of this as I hear the readings. i fidget. They are long. They remind me not only of the yearnings of God’s people, but also of my own. Celebrating the Vigil Mass is just one stop on our journeys. We come at different places in our lives, and yet, we are also one people on one journey: The transformation and salvation of all.

This liturgy allows us to pause together, to pray, and to lift one another’s hearts: Jesus has risen. The future, while a long time coming, is no longer unknown. Light will triumph over darkness; joy over sorrow; life over death. For each of us and for all of us together.

Jesus Washes Feet of Disciples So, during supper,
fully aware that the Father had put everything into his power
and that he had come from God and was returning to God,
he rose from supper and took off his outer garments.
He took a towel and tied it around his waist.
Then he poured water into a basin
and began to wash the disciples’ feet
and dry them with the towel around his waist.

I have given you a model to follow,
so that as I have done for you, you should also do.”
Jn 13, 2-5;15

Holy Thursday was a beautiful day here, sunny and cool. I spent part of it with a friend at her home in the country. We took a walk and drank in birdsong, blooms, and buds ready to unfurl. Then we shared a simple meal, breaking bread and remembering the meal Jesus shared with his followers before his death.

As we ate, the sun shimmered on a pond not far from our table. What glorious Love surrounds us in creation. That the maker of all this beauty shares Divine life and glory with us is unimaginable. That God is willing to serve, to “wash our feet,” is even more so. Yet, that is what Jesus did, setting the example for all who follow him.

I watched the news this evening and reflect on the time spent with my friend, with the peace and joy that nourished my spirit as we ate together and spoke of God’s loving Presence. That quiet day was a gift to me, but on the television screen, I saw a world in turmoil. People are dying in their attempts to end repressive regimes; people are suffer from too much rain and from too little. War, hatred, anger, fear are the daily fare of many.

Why do I have a day of renewal, friendship, and peace while others suffer? A mystery. A gift. But not for me alone. Those of us who have plenty are called to give much. I don’t know how this looks exactly. How sufferings “even out” or if they do. Why some people are born in places of constant strife and violence and why others are not. I don’t know why some have heavy burdens to carry and others seem to glide though life in a charmed way.

I don’t know how my small efforts during a day make a difference to anyone, or how an act of kindness could chip away at suffering anywhere else. I cannot make sense of the big picture. Jesus knew it, as the gospel reading says. He knew who he was and what he was about, even if he didn’t know all the details.

I choose to trust him, the God who washes dirty feet. I choose to believe that however I can help another, however I can serve will make some difference. I leave our Servant=God to take care of the details.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen Here is my servant whom I uphold,
my chosen one with whom I am pleased,
Upon whom I have put my Spirit;
he shall bring forth justice to the nations,
Not crying out, not shouting,
not making his voice heard in the street.
A bruised reed he shall not break,
and a smoldering wick he shall not quench,
Until he establishes justice on the earth;
the coastlands will wait for his teaching.

Thus says God, the LORD,
who created the heavens and stretched them out,
who spreads out the earth with its crops,
Who gives breath to its people
and spirit to those who walk on it:
I, the LORD, have called you for the victory of justice,
I have grasped you by the hand;
I formed you, and set you
as a covenant of the people,
a light for the nations,
To open the eyes of the blind,
to bring out prisoners from confinement,
and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness.
Is 47,1-7

Today’s first reading eloquently describes the one sent by God to bring justice to the world. The images of gentleness come to mind when I watch a candle holding on to a wavering flame or carefully remove a bent flower stem and preserve the bloom by placing its shortened stalk into a tiny vase of water.

Isaiah does not reveal a blustery savior but one who is self effacing. Verses 6-7 describe the God who sent the Servant in an equally compassionate way: This is the One who created the earth, filled it with crops, and inspirited the people who populate it. This is a God concerned about the poor, the imprisoned, the sick. This is our God, pained by injustice.

As I read this passage today, I lingered over the line “I have grasped you by the hand…” Our God does not send us out alone to bring peace and light to the world. The Compassionate One does not make anyone a “covenant” and then leave him or her alone to do the job.

No. God grasps us by the hand and shows us the way. God walks with us.

That brings comfort to my soul. In the midst of a world at war with itself, a nation considering “quenching embers” and “bruising reeds” with budget cuts that increase injustice to the vulnerable among us,a time of fear and doubt, I will cling to the hand that grasps my own.

Jesus did that, becoming Covenant to us all. But after his death and resurrection, he made us part of that covenant; his work became our work; his call, our call.

I have no delusions about my abilities to do my part. But with God reaching out and holding on to me, even when I falter, even when weakness and fear make my fingers loosen, God’s grip is firm. Compassion will not let go.

In today’s online New York Times, columnist David Brooks wrote about Poetry in Everyday Life,” an interesting reflection on the use of metaphor to “capture what is going on.” I am in favor of metaphors. Of poetry, too. However, the new translation of the Roman Missal may be, shall I say, “throwing the baby out with the bath water.”

In the same NYT edition, an unrelated article questions about the new translation are raised by priests around the globe. For New Mass, Closer to Latin, Critics Voice a Plain Objection.”raises questions about what some proponents claim is a more poetic translation, one literally faithful to the older Latin Mass. Metaphors are indispensable, frequently used when human beings grapple with the Divine, but they must connect with those who read or hear them, and they must make sense in today’s world.
As a sometimes teacher of writing, I have plenty of experience with young children peppering paragraphs (oh, there’s a metaphor for you…you know, “spicing it up”) with meaningless comparisons because their teachers required them to use metaphors. I am not saying that the New Missal uses language the same way, but as i read objections by those whose jobs include celebrating the Mass, catechizing parishioners, or even working on the translation committee, I question the wisdom of this translation.

Take for example, Fr. Anthony Ruff, a Benedictine monk from Saint John’s Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota and a professor of liturgy. According to the article, Fr. Ruff, who was head of the music committee of the international commission working on the translation, was removed from his position after he posted negative comments about the translation on his blog. He has written an open letter to the American bishops saying he cannot present scheduled parish programs introducing the new translation because he cannot support it.

I throw my support to the petition begun by Rev. Michael Ryan, pastor of St. James Cathedral in Seattle, asking the bishops to delay the introduction of the New Missal. Months ago I signed the petition aptly titled “What If We Just Said Wait.” A new translation does not have to be a negative thing, but it will be if not done in a way that enhances participation and understanding of those participating in worship at Mass.

As stated at the beginning of this post, I am all for metaphorical language used to express belief and experience of the Sacred in our midst. Poetic language can acknowledge the mystery and holiness of what we are about, but not if the language, sentence structure, and grammar leave parishioners wondering what they just said.

In the article, Fr. Ruff stated that he saw the need for a new translation, “more beautiful and more accurate,” but one that is done well. Sounds like Fr. Ryan had a good idea: What IF we just said wait, and those working on the translation kept working?

NASA How long did Lazarus need before he heard and recognized the command of his God to get up and embrace life once again? Thinking of accounts of those who claim to have had experiences of death and then a return to life, I wonder if Lazarus wanted to come back.

As I sit with the image, I begin to see that small black silhouette of Jesus and know he is calling to me. Calling to me in my dark places, places that need the redeeming touch of Grace. Do I hear? How long has he been calling my name? Do I want to come out or am I comfortable with the habits, feelings, and situations that keep me bound up, unable to live life fully as I am made to do? Sometimes, our darkness offers the comfort of familiarity. It is our darkness after all, and we may feel some sense of control by our freedom to choose to stay in its grip.

Jesus called. But Lazarus had to decide to get up and walk out.

Before voicing his command, Jesus prayed: And Jesus raised his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you for hearing me. I know that you always hear me…”

When entombed in my personal fears and darkness, do I believe that God is always hearing me? Like matter trapped in a black hole, are my calls for help frozen to stillness when they come out of my mouth? Or do they make it to God’s ear?

Sunday’s reading tells me “Yes.” Yes, God is always hearing me. Yes, God stands at the boundary of life and death, both physical death and the many “deaths” we experience along our journeys. Yes, Jesus calls to me, and his voice carries with it the power to respond.

Sometimes, Jesus’ voice comes through other human vocal chords: friends, family, counselors, and doctors. Sometimes we hear it in music or sounds of nature. It is always the sound of hope. Responding is not easy. Lazarus must have struggled to make it out the tomb, but once he did, others were there to help remove the cloth binding him.

Lenten disciplines help us quiet the noise of life and hear the Voice calling us to new life.

© 2011 Mary van Balen

This is a portion of my April 10, 2011 column, “Grace In the Moment,” that appears in the Catholic Times. See Link of my home page to read full column.

Rev. Bob Graetz, civil rights leader, speaking about civil rights issues of today. PHOTO: Mary van Balen So the guards went to the chief priests and Pharisees, who asked them, “Why did you not bring him? ”The guards answered, “Never before has anyone spoken like this man.” So the Pharisees answered them, “Have you also been deceived? Have any of the authorities or the Pharisees believed in him? But this crowd, which does not know the law, is accursed.” Jn 7,45-49

While gathered with friends for a prayerful evening, I listened as one of them read aloud from “Charter of Rights” for Catholics In the Church,” based on Vatican I documents, the Social Justice teachings especially as articulated by Pope Paul VI in “The Progress of Peoples.” The first right listed was that, “All Catholics have the right to follow their informed consciences in all matters.”

I thought of that as I read today’s gospel. Those who heard Jesus speak, even those sent to arrest him, were riveted by his words. How could one arrest a man who spoke like that? Jesus spoke Truth, and Truth finds resonance in human hearts enlivened by the indwelling of that same Truth, the Spirit.I imagine even the most hardened of hearts felt a stir when hearing Jesus preach, or perhaps even when he simply walked by. The Divine spark placed in every person recognizes itself and moves toward unity with the Holy One.

The Pharisees were having trouble keeping their minions under control. Sent to bring Jesus back, they returned instead with questions and awe for Jesus. “Never before has anyone spoken like this man,” they said. They were in the presence of Truth and knew it.

What kept the Pharisees from experiencing a similar pull towards God in their midst? The clung to the Law, and to the arrogance that allowed them to believe that they alone understood it in its wholeness. The assumed they knew Jesus, where he was from, and what he was about. They could not believe that God would speak to ordinary people and that they would understand and respond. That was the domain of the learned, schooled in Law and its interpretation.

Nicodemus, one of their own, challenged the Pharisees to give Jesus the chance to speak and to listen to him before making judgements. The Pharisees’ minds were already made up. Jesus would have to go.

Just as in Jesus’ time, being aware of the movement of the Divine within us and following its lead takes courage and perseverance. Following the Spirit within as well as being aware of the larger context of the community and its laws and directives requires courage. How difficult was it for the guards to return with full hearts and empty hands? What inner strength did Nicodemus draw on to question the Pharisees’ judgement?

Lenten practices help us become more attuned to the Spirit that dwells within each of us, the Spirit sent by Jesus to help us continue his work of bringing the Kingdom.

Holy One, give us perseverance to remain faithful as we continue our efforts to become more aware of you in our lives. Give us wisdom to recognize your movement in our souls and the courage to be faithful to it. Amen
© 2001 Mary van Balen

In a departure from Lenten reflections, I must address the Federal Budget negotiations. First, cuts to reduce the deficit have been proposed that disproportionately target programs that serve the poor and vulnerable. These programs are not where the big money is found. In the big picture, eliminating them all would do little to reduce federal spending. Many people of many faiths, and some of no particular religious affiliation, are fasting to raise awareness and to pray for responsible decisions regarding the budget.

This morning I read in a NY Times article that one of the sticking points was now a Republican proposals for “…measures that would restrict the regulatory powers of the Environmental Protection Agency, a favorite target of Republicans since they took over the House, by preventing the agency from enforcing significant portions of the Clean Air Act and regulating carbon emissions.”

This, after we saw in dramatic fashion in the Gulf oil spill, what can happen when companies are left to regulate themselves? This, when the tragedy in Japan has focused world attention on the need for clean energy and research into alternative energy sources?

I do not mean to imply that every business is guilty, but many are, and many that are have huge impacts on the environment. I have recently returned from a country where the moves for vehicle emissions controls and stiffer regulations on manufacturing companies are far behind our own. One of the first things I thought when embarking back home was “Thank God for the EPA!”

I have spent the morning calling and emailing senators and representatives. If you share my concern, I encourage you to do the same.
© 2011 Mary van Balen

The Dance of God? Credits: X-ray: NASA/CXC/CfA/E. O’Sullivan Optical: Canada-France-Hawaii-Telescope/Coelum Remember your servants Abraham, Isaac and Israel, and how you swore to them by your own self, saying,‘I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky; and all this land that I promised,I will give your descendants as their perpetual heritage.’“So the LORD relented in the punishment he had threatened to inflict on his people.
Ez 32,13-14

Today’s first reading brings to mind a question that theologians and thoughtful believers have grappled with for centuries: Can God change?

Hebrew Scriptures contain numerous passages where God “changes his mind.” In the New Testament, Jesus shows emotion when he weeps over Jerusalem and at the tomb of Lazarus. Can prayers and entreaties for mercy change God’s plans?

Part of the dilemma stems from the idea that perfection is unchangeable. If perfection changes, it can only change to less than perfection. So, if God is perfect, God cannot change. This is a static perception of God.

There are other ideas that do not share the static, dualistic (perfect or not) way of approaching God. One of these is looking at God as a dynamic relationship among the Divine persons: As Christians, we could say the relationship of the Trinity. God is not three unchanging persons, but the relationship, the love, the “dance” of three.

Has this “dance” spilled over and “become” creation? Did God will to create and to draw us ever deeper into a relationship with the Infinite, into the “Dance?”

Reflecting on these questions and allowing ourselves to think in new ways about God can deepen our expereince of the Holy One. It can take us to a “broad place,” (Ps 118,5) to look at God with fresh eyes. Today’s reading made me think and sent me to books and the internet to delve deeper into the mystery of how God relates to me, to us, to creation.

As we continue our spiritual journey of Lent, let’s ponder Jesus’ birth, death, and resurrection as God’s most direct invitation: Come, dance with Me.
© 2011 Mary van Balen