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However, take care and be earnestly on your guard not to forget the things which your own eyes have seen, nor let them slip from your memory as long as you live, but teach them to your children and your children’s children.
Dt 4, 9

In today’s Old Testament reading, these and the verses that follow tell of Moses reminding the Israelites of the day God gave the Ten Commandments and the instruction to observe them in the Promised Land. Moses tells the people to remember and to teach their children not only about the wondrous way the commandments were given, but also about the responsibility to live by them.

We teach more by our actions than by our words. What are mine teaching? I have false gods that rob time and attention from the Holy One? Do I keep the Sabbath? Do I reverence others? The commandments are deeper than their literal meaning, and Jesus summed up them up along with the Law and the prophets in his two great commandments to love God and love neighbor.

These verses remind me of a magnet on my friend’s refrigerator. The souvenir from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. is black with three phrases written in small orange letters: The next time you witness hatred; the next time you see injustice; the next time you hear about genocide. In large white letters interspersed between the phrases is the sentence: THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU SAW.

Do I think about and remember what I see in the world around me so I can “teach my children?” or do I go about my days as if no one slept homeless on the streets, or lived with cancer because they can’t afford health insurance, or were hungry because they have no jobs? Do I remember the times I have heard others speak with hatred and derision of those they fear or do not understand? Do I not only enjoy the fruits of the earth, but also live in a way that helps insure they will be here for future generations? Do I speak up when I see injustice? Do I take time to communicate my concerns to leaders who make laws and determine policy?

What do I do with my time? With my gifts? What do I remember about God’s great commandments? What am I teaching the children?
© 2010 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN

Make known to me your ways, Lord:
teach me your paths.
Guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God my savior.
For you I wait all the long day,
because of your goodness, Lord.
Ps 25, 4-5

How do we learn God’s ways or discern God’s paths? How do we learn Divine truth and allow it to guide us through life’s daily challenges as well as times of life-changing choices?

For me, quiet prayer is the answer. I read and pray Scripture, practice Lectio Divina that is not only prayer, but also informs my writing. I try to use my gifts in service of God and others. But, even those activities, well intentioned as they are, are not the same as sitting quietly with my Compassionate Friend and being drawn deeper into the relationship that gives me life and purpose.

Much prayer is focused outward toward God and others. We try to pray for others and to keep their needs in our hearts. We take the energy and clarity we find to fuel our work, our efforts to bring peace, to care about those we love who struggle or need support.

All these practices and good and important. Yet, we need to be quiet, to retreat from the outside world and remember ourselves in God’s Presence. We need to listen to God’s words of love for us, feel God’s embrace, and know God’s way.

Like the Psalmist, we may long for Holy Guidance as we make choices and live our lives, but we cannot hear it in bustling activity and constant “noise.” We must sit at God’s feet, like Mary of Bethany, enjoy the closeness and listen with our hearts.

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN
Naaman came with his horses and chariots and stopped at the door of Elisha’s house. The prophet sent him the message: “Go ad wash seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will heal, and you will be clean.” But Naaman went away angry, saying, “I thought that he would surely come out and stand there to invoke the Lord his God, and would move his hand over the spot, and thus cure the leprosy. But his servants came up and reasoned with him. “My father,” they said,” if the prophet had told you to do something extraordinary, would you not have done it? All the more now, since he said to you, ‘Wash and be clean,’ should you do as he said” So Naaman went down and plunged into the Jordan seven times at the word of the man of God. His flesh became again like the flesh of a little child, and he was clean.
2Kg 5, 9-11; 13-14

As I write, I hear the Oscars on the downstairs television and am struck by the irony. Many people are glued to the television screen watching the annual glamourous awards for high profile achievement while I sit in my office, reflecting on the expectation of a man for a dramatic miracle but who is instructed instead to perform a common action: bathe in the river. Naaman was incensed. Had he journeyed so far only to be told to do what he did routinely in his homeland? Elisha’s instructions were insulting.

Our society values celebrity, as evidenced by tonight’s television extravaganza. Importance is often equated with wealth, fame, and good looks. Our heroes and heroines are stars of sports, movie, music and we like splash and pizzazz.. So did Naaman.

We also value great achievements. They might be accomplished by a pilot like Scully, who landed a plane on the Hudson without losing a life, or a scientist who develops some new procedure to treat illness. Our heroes are usually bigger than life people who do extraordinary things.

But Elisha had a different message for us: Miracles and healing happen through ordinary means. This is hopeful for those of us who will never win an Oscar, write a bestseller, or find a cure for cancer. Great work is hidden in clear sight, in the simple things we do every day: Taking time to visit an elderly friend, putting flowers on the table, having a cookout for friends, shoveling someone else’s walk, listening, smiling, being patient.

The little things communicate God’s healing love and we have the opportunity to do them every day. No special training needed. Just being present to another and being open to God-With-Us allow grace to flow and miracles to happen. Ordinary people living their lives with love and concern for others do more good than they know. They do not receive a statute to put on their mantle, but they change the world.

BYZANTINE MOSAIC: MOSES AND THE BURNING BUSH
Meanwhile Moses was tending the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian. Leading the flock across the desert, he came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There and angel of the Lord appeared to him in the fire flaming out of a bush. As he looked on, he was surprised to see that the bush, though on fire, was not consumed. So, Moses decided, “I must go over to look at this remarkable sight, and see why the bush is not burned.”

When the Lord saw him coming over to look at it more closely, God called out to him from the bush, “Moses! Moses!” He answered, “Here I am.: God said, “Come no nearer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.”
Ex 3, 1-5

This story is so familiar that Moses seeing a burning bush does not surprise. He is Moses, after all, and those kinds of things happened to him. A close reading of the verses paint a different picture. Moses was doing a very ordinary thing: Leading his father-in-law’s flock of sheep across the desert. This is like your driving to work, filling out reports, teaching students, doing laundry, going to the grocery store. Moses was doing what he always did.

He was not in a special place. Not doing something unusual. Not expecting to find God around the corner, or in this case, hiding in a bush. Moses was not so different from us getting up every day, making a living and taking care of family. So why did I Am Who Am talk to him from a miraculously flaming shrub?

God had something to say to Moses. I Am Who Am had something for him to do and decided that a a burning bush would get his attention. It did, and when Moses walked over to investigate, the Lord instructed him to take off his sandals because he was on holy ground. This was the same ground Moses walked over day after day. There was nothing special about it except that Moses recognized the Lord’s Presence there. And wherever the Lord is is surely holy.

Like Moses, we often need something extraordinary to catch our attention, to remind us that we are on holy ground because God is present in every place and in every moment. We don’t get a burning bush. Perhaps it is the birth of a child, or the love of a spouse or special friend. A magnificent sunrise of night sky can remind us that God is with us.

Often, though, we are too busy to notice some of these signs of God-With-Us, and if we miss the big signs, how easy is it to miss Divine Presence in the ordinary routines of life? Because we may not be aware of that Presence does not change the fact that God is, indeed, with us in countless ways, and that we are walking on holy ground all the time.

In his play, “Our Town,” Thorton Wilder noted our ability to walk through the world unaware in the famous line spoken by Emily near the end of the play: Emily: Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it–every,every minute? Stage Manager: No. (pause) The saints and poets, maybe they do some

The poet, Elizabeth Barrett’s, wrote about the same thing in her narrative poem, Aurora Leigh” :
Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries…

Recognizing the Sacred in our midst takes practice, but even though we will most likely never see a burning bush, we can learn to be aware that we are on holy ground and take off our shoes.

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN OF SILVER GELATIN PRINT BY RAYMOND MEEKS: JOSE’ ESTUARDO SOTZ ALVAREZ, BOSTON MA 1992 FOR AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL

My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to live again; he was lost and has been found.
LK 15, 31-31

Sometimes when reading Scripture, I am tempted to hurry over or skim passages that are as familiar as this story of the prodigal son. This parable is often used to illustrate God’s willingness to forgive when one is repentant or the importance of conversion of heart. Both, of course, are valid interpretations, but what struck me today was the joy of the father. He didn’t question his son about wisdom he might have acquired as a result of his licentious activity or even his unsavory work for Gentiles. The son may have had a change of heart or a repentant spirit, but in the story, none of that is discussed. The younger son barely managed his rehearsed statement before his father had servants putting sandals on his feet, a ring on his finger, and a robe around his dirty, skinny shoulders.

Once he saw his wayward son approaching, the father broke out in a run uncharacteristic of a refined gentleman of the Orient, so I doubt he wasted much time asking for explanations. As he repeated throughout the story, what had been lost was found; what had been dead had come back to life. Both good reasons to celebrate.

The elder son didn’t share his father’s unreasonable enthusiasm, but the parable leaves us hanging; we don’t know if he went in and joined the party or stayed outside sulking and feeding his attitude.

There is no question that the father was having a wonderful time with friends, servants, and his youngest son.

This joy and immediate forgiveness is echoed in today’s Old Testament reading and the Psalm. The prophet, Micah, lived in a politically dangerous time for the Israelites. It was also a time of corruption among leaders including religious leaders and those with economic power. Micah, like Isaiah and Jeremiah, was concerned with the poor and oppressed. His book begins with dire predictions and lament, contains some promise of hope, and then condemns the leaders and common people who are dishonest and unworthy of trust.

Today’s verses are the last in the book and are thought to be from a liturgical rite. They focus not on the wrong doing, but on God who “delights… in clemency.” This is the Father in Luke’s parable. He is eager to rejoice and party with his son, looking past his sin and seeing only that he has returned.

Psalm 103 praises God who forgives and who loves without measure. “As the heavens tower over the earth, so God’s love towers over the faithful. As far as the east is from the west, so far have our sins been removed from us.”

These words bring joy to my heart, for while I hope I can be as welcoming at the prodigal’s father, I know that if I can, it is because God is more than joyful and welcoming to me.
© 2010 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN

Rely on the mighty Lord;
constantly seek his face.
Recall the wondrous deeds he has done…
Ps 105, 4-5a

My spiritual director has to remind me from time to time to reflect on the history of God’s Presence in my past. This usually is necessary when I am struggling with my present. The Holy Mystery remains so mysterious that I cannot catch even a glimpse. My life, while interesting, is in chaos and I cannot discern a path. I am stuck in the midst of a plethora of possibilities or languishing for lack of any.

During these times I don’t feel much like rejoicing or proclaiming God’s wondrous deeds as the Psalmist suggests a few verses before these. The rest of the Psalm recounts God’s providential care of Israel until, in the end; God’s people had possession of the land and its wealth and could shout “Hallelujah!”

As I read and reread this Psalm, the plight of Joseph resonated with me. Not his final triumph, becoming the king’s right hand man, but the time of betrayal and imprisonment that preceded it. wondered what he was thinking then. Was he trying to remember how God had been faithful to the covenant in the past and to trust that the Holy One would be faithful to him as well?

My spiritual director was right, as she usually is. Some times are dark and confusing, and no clear path reveals itself, no “right way” is discernable, no choice is in my power to make. At such times, rather than mentally moving frantically from one possibility to another, I need to wait and remember my history with God. When I am able to chose and move on, I will look back, like Joseph in his glory, and see God’s tracks in my chaos, in others’ lives entwined with mine in ways I may someday know and in ways I could never imagine. Then I will be able to sing “Hallelujah!”
© 2010 Mary van Balen

Blessed in the one who trusts in the Lord,
whose hope is the Lord.
That one is like a tree planted beside the waters
That stretches out its roots to the stream:
It fears not the heat when it comes,
Its leaves stay green;
In the year of drought it shows no distress,
but still bears fruit.
Jer 17, 7-8

Years ago, someone gave me two pussy willow stems. They rooted quickly in a water-filled vase and after just a few weeks they were ready to plant. I put them beside the garage where a future bush would be visible from the kitchen window. That was a mistake. A water pipe ran not far from the pussy willow and became clogged over the years by willow roots doing just what the tree did in Jeremiah’s metaphor: They stretched out to water, finding every tiny crack until the pipe was full and the bathtub upstairs wouldn’t drain.

How can roots be so smart? And what happened to my spiritual “smarts” when it comes to seeking out the “water” that gives me life? A quick Internet search informed me that plant roots’ ability to grow toward water or moisture is called “hydrotropism” and occurs at the tender root cap, which sends a signal to another part of the root that controls growth. The root cap adds a cell at a time in the direction of the water source. If the root cap is cut off or damaged (or in some experiments, covered) the root will not grow toward the moisture.

“Tropisms” (from Greek “tropos,” to turn, and “ism,” a system) exist in plants for all types of stimuli: heat, light, moisture, and gravity. Plants can respond positively and grow toward the stimuli or negatively and grow away from stimuli. (Some plants love sun, others thrive in shade.) Plants don’t grow toward something that is harmful but move steadily toward what is necessary for their survival.

Human beings, on the other hand, have the dubious ability to misread their environment and move toward empty or harmful things while ignoring what is healthy, all the while thinking they are approaching the good. This can happen in the physical realm: Eating nachos and chocolate instead of broccoli and fish. It can also happen in the spiritual realm: Filling up every available moment with activity rather than taking time to become aware of God-With-Us and respond to that Presence.

Lent can be a time to make sure our spiritual “root caps” are in good shape and leading us in a life-giving direction. That they are not stunted by constant activity, overload, or bad habits. Giving ourselves time to read Scripture or other sources of spiritual wisdom, to pray, to reflect, to worship revitalizes our spiritual sensitivity and helps us rest in a place that will feed our souls and renew our hearts.
© 2010 Mary van Balen

Photo: Gabbra Wooden Cup – Sueno Studio

He said to her, “What do you wish?” She answered him, “Command that these two sons of mine sit, one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.” Jesus said to her in reply, “You do not know what your are asking. Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” They said to him, “We can.”

When I was nine or ten, I knew I wanted to be especially close to God. That was my desire, and in my innocence and naiveté, I thought that closeness would make me special to God. I remembered that as I read today’s gospel. Unlike James and John, I wasn’t hoping for power, but like them, I didn’t understand what being close to God and doing Jesus work would mean in my life.

Jesus knew, though. He found out, living his own life, that the more one truly reflects Divine Love in this world the more one will suffer. Jesus came to love and serve all. Obviously James and John and the other ten who were miffed by the brothers’ ambition, hadn’t understood what Jesus was trying to show them.

To grow closer to God, to become a more perfect reflection of the Holy One, to help bring the Kingdom, means becoming the least, the servant to all. It means enduring difficulties and suffering we do not expect. “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?” Jesus asked. “Sure,” they might answer today. “No problem.” They answered so quickly. Jesus was right: They didn’t know what they were asking.

Neither do those of us who desire to follow Jesus. When we begin to understand, we also begin to learn that the only way to do it is with the help of the Spirit dwelling within. And as far as being special to God, I have learned that God does not have favorites. His Love and call to service is for all. ©2010 Mary van Balen

PHOTO:MARY VAN BALEN

I need no bullock from your house,
no goats from your fold.
For every animal of the forest is mine,
beasts by the thousands on my mountains.
I know every bird of the heavens;
the creatures of the field belong to me.
Offer praise as your sacrifice to God;
fulfill your vows to the Most High.
Ps 50 9-11; 14

What could the Maker of All That Is possibly desire? Not the sacrifices of the Israelites. The earth, the sky, every creature, every star, every universe belongs to the Creator. There is but one thing: Our hearts. And we give it by praising God with our lives. We reverence our sisters and brothers. We care for the earth and its creatures. We share the gifts we have been given as servants. We work for peace. We follow the example of Jesus. What could the Maker of All That Is possibly desire? Our love. © 2010 Mary van Balen

“LAMENT” BY CONNIE BUTLER
How long, Lord? Will you be angry forever?
Will your rage keep burning like fire?
Pour out your wrath on nations that reject you,
on kingdoms that do not call on your name,
For they have devoured Jacob,
laid wast to his home.
Help us, God our savior,
for the glory of your name.
Deliver us, pardon our sins,
for your name’s sake.
Why should the nations say,
“Where is their God?”
Before our eyes make clear to the nations
that you avenge the blood of your servants.
Lord, inflict on our neighbors sevenfold
the disgrace that they inflicted on you.
Then we, your people, the sheep of your pasture,
will give thanks to you forever;
through all ages we will declare your praise. Ps 79, 5-7; 10; 12-13

Readings like this can make us uncomfortable. Ingrained proscriptions against complaining to God about Divine absence in times of trial and asking for vengeance to be visited on our enemies can make praying this Psalm difficult. Aren’t we supposed to forgive those who hurt us? Aren’t our words to God supposed to be words of praise and thanksgiving? Doesn’t this make us seem to be, well…whiners?

Not really. This is a Psalm of Lament, and lamenting is something many of us do not do well, even though it is a natural and healthy expression of feeling. Lament is a cry of grief that grows out of something done to us, something that is unfair, unjust. When we lament, we go straight to God and don’t pull any punches.

“Where have you been when I needed you?” we might ask. “Are you going to be mad at me forever?” “Don’t let my enemies gloat. We both look bad.” “Maybe I have done things I shouldn’t, but I don’t deserve THIS.” “Make my enemies suffer; I want revenge.”

This seems downright unchristian, but it is honest. Sometimes we ARE angry about what life throws our way, and despite prayers and petitions, God doesn’t seem very concerned. It makes us mad. God can handle mad, but when we keep it bottled up inside of us, too proper to express what we really feel, we suffer.

Psalms of Lament show us the way to talk with God about these feelings. First, we remember that God is a personal God we can talk to, or yell at. God cares about us.
Then we spill out our anger. How can this happen to me? We can rant as long as we need to. We can ask for vengeance. Knowing that someone who caused us pain is going to suffer for it can relieve anguish, or so it seems. It feels good when anger spews out of hearts that are deeply hurt and confused.

But after ranting for awhile, we realize our energy is waning. I often end up crying and am spent. It is then that I hear what I have been saying. I reconsider. I know the Holy One loves me. I don’t want to hurt others, really. I just want the hurting in my heart to stop. I want God to fix it somehow.

Eventually the Psalmist turns to praise and thanksgiving. God is Good and Compassionate. In the end, we have to trust in that Compassion. That is easier to do once we have been honest about our pain and anger.

If you have not been comfortable with Psalms of Lament, or Lament, this Lent, try incorporating it into your prayer © 2010 Mary van Balen