“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

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN
While he was praying his face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white. And behold, two men were conversing with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem. As they were about to part from him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good that we are here; let us make three tents, on for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” But he did not know what he was saying. While he was still speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and they became frightened when they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” After the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. Lk 9,29-31; 33-36a

When I see something that gives me a glimpse into God’s glory, I want to hang on to it, like Peter. Sometimes when I am watching the sun set over the ocean, I want the sun to stop right where it is, and delay its inevitable disappearance behind the waters.Perhaps a symphony’s beautiful music rolls over me and fills my soul with a sense of God’s magnificence, even more stirring than the music. In a moment my experience of Divine wonder is gone and no matter how long the music fills the concert hall, the gift has passed.

A child’s face, a delicate flower, a violent storm, an embrace…all these things, and anything, can become a window into the glory of God that opens for just a moment. It may move me to tears or fill my heart with deep joy. Such a glimpse of grace cannot be held or recreated. It is pure gift. It reaches down into the soul, transforms it in ways unknown, and then is gone.

Something not to be grasped at, but to receive with gratitude, it is Divine Presence that owns the moment, and I am blessed to be there.
© 2010 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN- Morning Market

This day the Lord, your god, commands you to observe these statutes and decrees. Be careful, then to observe them with all your heart and with all your soul. Today you are making this agreement with the Lord: he is to be your God and you are to walk in his ways and observe his statutes, commandments and decrees, and to hearken to his voice. And today the Lord is making this agreement with you: you are to be a people peculiarly his own.
Dt 26, 16-18a

This morning, when my feet touched the floor and I took a deep breath, I once again entered my sacred agreement with the Holy One: I say “yes” to the gift of my life, whatever it brings, “yes” to God. Today I am making an agreement with God to use my life for good, to follow the example of Jesus, and to avoid actions that allow evil and discord to seep into the world.

The Holy One makes an agreement too: Infinite Love makes me a unique child of God, and we will walk together.

Tonight, when I crawl into bed and burrow under blankets, I know I will have done less good than I might have done and failed more often that I had hoped I would. Yet, I can lay my head on the pillow and rest, assured that God has been faithful to our agreement. I will sleep knowing that despite failure to live up to my end of the bargain, I remain “peculiarly God’s own.” When the sun rises I will be offered the agreement once again that day and every day I take a breath.

© 2010 Mary van Balen

e.e.cummings poem i thank You God for most this amazing

THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL SON: Rembrandt van Rijn

Out of the depths I call to you, Lord;
Lord, hear my cry!
May your ears be attentive
to my cry for mercy.
If you, Lord, mark our sins,
Lord, who can stand?
But with you is forgiveness
and so you are revered.
For with the Lord is kindness,
with him is full redemption.
Psalm 130, 1-4; 7

Sometimes, looking back over my life, I become aware of my weaknesses, flaws, and sins. What have I done that has hurt others? How much time have I wasted? How many opportunities have I squandered? How many times have I withheld gifts, given by God for the good of all? Was I shy? Intimidated? Lazy?

I can be harder on myself than I am on others, reluctant to show myself the same compassion I extend to them. If I am aware of my failures, how many more must the Creator see?

The comfort of this Psalm lies in its image of Holy One. Though on my own, I am unable to become who I am made to be, God does not dwell on my weakness, but instead looks at me with love and forgiveness. Like the Father welcoming the prodigal son, God sees me with joy and wraps me in a loving embrace. Like a parent who looks at her child and sees deeper than appearances, knowing the heart that is momentarily shrouded in hurt and anger, God looks past my imperfect self and sees the spark of divinity that dwells in my soul, just as God intended.

Compassionate One who welcomes me, who welcomes all, help me to accept your love and to share it freely with others, seeing not their faults but their hearts which you have made.
© 2010 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: NASA, ESA and the HUBBLE HERITAGE TEAM Cosmic Question Mark

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you…Which one of you would hand his son a stone when he asks for a loaf of bread, or a snake when he asks for a fish? If you the, who are wicked, know how to give good things to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good things to those who ask?”
Mt 7, 7; 9-11

Tonight I joined my parish for a soup supper and shared thoughts on Lectio Divina with them. As I talked about finding a “word” in Scripture, a passage that moves the prayer’s heart in some way, I warned that not all “words” given in Lectio warm the heart. “ Some words will be challenging. Some make you uncomfortable, even angry. Some are mysterious and confusing.”

Today’s reading from Matthew falls into that last category for me. How many times have we “knocked” and been left outside, alone? many times have we asked and not received? How many times have we sought something and came up empty handed? Plenty, I would guess.

Jesus compares his Father to human parents, saying if we know to give our children good things when they ask for them, how much more does God know to give good to us. That sounds true.

But does it imply that when we pray for something and our prayer is not answered as we hope, that we were asking for something that was not good?

What could be bad about praying for physical recovery from illness or accident? What would be evil about healing a child, finding a job, or release from depression or mental illness?

On a global scale, the world’s people suffer from poverty, violence, and war. Haiti’s earthquake, African drought. When people of the world pray for relief, is that not good?

I know God’s thoughts are above mine, and that God’s ways are beyond my imagining. I am sure that some things that seem good to me are not. Still, these are hard words to live with in the midst of so much suffering. I believe; help my unbelief.
© 2010 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: MAURICE FLOOD
“Out of my distress I called to the Lord,
and he answered me;
From the midst of the nether world I cried for help,
and you heard my voice…
Then I said, “I am banished from your sight,
yet would I again look upon your holy temple.”

The waters swirled about me, threatening my life;
the abyss enveloped me; seaweed clung about my head…
But your brought up my life from the pit,
O Lord, my God.
When my soul fainted within me,
I remembered the Lord;
My prayer reached you
in your holy temple. Jon 2, 3; 5-6;7b-8

After a long night of caring for my father, I woke this morning after just a few hours of sleep. Life always looks darker to me when I am exhausted. Jonah’s description of his predicament, prayed from the belly of a whale, resonated with me. Seaweed wasn’t clinging to my head, but similar tangles of dread wrapped themselves around my brain making clear thought impossible and crowding out hope.

Two lines in this reading reached deep into my center. I am banished from your sight, yet would I again look upon your holy temple.” Jonah’s desire to rest in the safety of God’s Presence stirred my soul. “Yes,” I thought, “I want to know the comfort and security of God’s embrace.” I, too, long for oneness with the Compassionate One.

The other verst that spoke to me was: “When my soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord; My prayer reached you in your holy temple.” What an apt description of my spirit this morning. My soul had, indeed, fainted, unable to do anything but will a prayer as it went down.

I trust my prayer, like Jonah’s, reached the Holy One. What I know that perhaps Jonah did not is that the temple of God is within. The Holy One has been with me all the time. Even before I call out in distress, God knows my need.

The belly of the whale was dark and unpleasant to say the least, but as disgusting as it might have been, it provided safety in the middle of a turbulent sea. The whale deposited Jonah on dry land. I think he must have thought kindly of whales after that.

My dark place looks more like uncertainty than a whale’s stomach, but as uncomfortable as my current situation is, it is slowly bringing me to solid ground. At least Jonah knew he was to go to Nineveh. I have no clue where I will be. But I have this on Jonah: He didn’t know God was right there with him in his whale’s belly. When I make time to be still and pray, I know the Compassionate One is with me in mine.
© 2010 Mary van Balen

PHOTOS: 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.
It shall not return to me void,but shall do my will,
achieving the end for which I sent it. Is 55,10-11

These verses are especially appropriate to read during this season when winter is slowly melting into spring. Snow is not always linked with bringing forth summer abundance, yet, the psalmist knows that snow not only protects dormant plants from extreme cold but also nourishes them when melts. Robert Frost wrote about that in his poem Spring Pools .

Rain and snow have a purpose: To bring forth life on this planet. God’s word also has a purpose. Unlike rain and snow, God’s word is not a thing. It is not a command or an instruction. God’s word is the Divine Self, the emanation of God’s being, not as much spoken as breathed onto the earth and into creation. It is what brought everything into being and what holds it in existence.

Sit quietly with these verses. Lay back, as if you were letting a soft spring rain fall on you and the ground around you. How sweet is that rain. And how sweet is the Word of God. Let it drench your spirit and soak into your soul. Let i saturate every inch of your being. Then, like a seed, softened until the tiny plant within wakes and stretches and grows, your deepest self will stretch and grow and become what God has intended for you to be. That is the purpose for which the Word is sent.
© 2010 Mary van Balen
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PHOTO: NASA
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the sky proclaims its builder’s craft.
One day to the next conveys that message;
one night to the next imparts that knowledge.
There is no word or sound,
no voice is heard;
Yet their report goes forth through all the earth,
There message, to the ends of the world.
Psalm 19, 2-5

What profound beauty fills the cosmos. We are blessed to “see” some of it with the help of scientists, astronauts, and engineers. The Hubble Telescope sends back exquisite photographs of a universe still in process. God’s creation continues and we are granted a look deep into its past.

What wonders quietly unfold at every moment? How often am I aware of them? How often do I gaze into the night sky or wake to the glory of morning light? Such constant miracles: our planet, the furthest reaches of space, the subatomic world! Without a sound they proclaim God’s glory and generous love.

I will take time to stand still and rejoice in the mystery of it. I join my song to the silent song of the cosmos and give thanks.
© 2010 Mary van Balen
PHOTO: NASA

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN
You who dwell in the shelter of the Most High,
who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
Say to the Lord, “My refuge and fortress,
my God in whom I trust.”
God will rescue you from the fowler’s snare,
from the destroying plague,
Will shelter you with pinions,
spread wings that you may take refuge;
God’s faithfulness is a protecting shield…

All who call upon me I will answer;
I will be with them in distress;
I will deliver them and give them honor..
Psalm 91, 1-4; 14-16

“Momma,” said a shaky voice on the telephone, “I am sick.”

No matter how far away they live or how mature my children are, when they are sick, they call their mother. Not that I can do anything physically for them. The daughter who owns this morning’s voice studies nine or ten hours from my home. Still, a mother’s voice is comforting. She may advise the sick one to take her temperature or to find someone to buy coke and chicken broth, what is most needed is knowledge of her momma’s presence and love.

While expressing the gamut of human emotions, the Psalms offer to us such knowledge of God. Today’s psalm reassures us that no matter where we are or what difficulties we face, God’s Presence and love are with us. Like a mother of a sick child, like a hen gathering her chicks, God shelters us under the divine wing.

My problem is trusting that. In the midst of uncertainty or suffering, when my children are struggling, when the world seems especially dark, believing in God’s protecting presence is not easy. I don’t see any solutions on the horizon. When I am wrestling with late night demons and can’t get to sleep, praying this psalm reminds me that answers are not my purview. I do my best, but in the end, I have to wait, and trust God loves me, my children, and this world, and will not let any of them be lost.

Reading these words is a little like my daughter calling me this morning and telling me she was sick. She knew she would have to resist the desire to gulp down a glass of water after a night of throwing up; she knew she would need to rest so her body could heal, but telling her mother, and knowing she cared, just hearing her voice, made the illness more bearable and her return to health seem more likely. Darkness is not so bleak and dawn not so far away when someone is waiting with you.

My prayer today is for trust in God’s protecting Presence. Like an infant trusts the adults in her live to take care of her, I want to trust God taking care of me, my family, and the world in which we live.
© 2010 Mary van Balen

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN

After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi sitting at the customs post. he said to him, “follow me.” And leaving everything behind, he got up and followed him. Then Levi gave a great banquet for him in his house, ad a large crowd of tax collectors and others were at table with them. Luke 5, 27-29

Yesterday’s reading spoke of fasting. Today’s gospel tells of the tax collector, Levi, leaving everything behind to respond to Jesus’ call, and the first thing Levi did was throw a party and invite all his friends to meet and hear Jesus. To the Pharisee’s consternation, Jesus attended. I imagine he enjoyed himself. He was not one to avoid celebrations. As recounted in Scripture, his public ministry began with a miracle providing wine when the bridal couple’s store was running low.
The image that comes alive in my mind as I read this gospel is that of Jesus sitting with what we might call “riff-raff.” Tax collectors often came from questionable populations because no self-respecting Jew would work for the occupying Romans. Who were Levi’s friends? What did they do for a living? According the the Pharisees who happened by, the group was made up of sinners.

I picture a few well-dressed, proper religious leaders, uncomfortable with their proximity to the unclean and undesirable, thinking they had Jesus bested this time. What would a true teacher or rabbi be doing eating in such a place where dietary purity laws were surely ignored?

As stiff and self-righteous as they were, Jesus, I think, would be relaxed, smiling, and enjoying the meal and conversation which he would steer artfully into a discussion of his passion: the kingdom of God, present and available to all.

Jesus loved people and he loved the world. He ate and drank and enjoyed the wonder of creation. Lenten fasting is not meant to be a sign of disdain for the fruits of the earth. It provides us with a time to reflect on proper use and enjoyment of what God has given.

We can look to material things, good in themselves, to fill us up. We can indulge to excess, mindlessly consuming food and everything else. Or, we can enter fully into life and its goodness, finding in it a way to encounter the One Who Created All. The variety of people who attended Levi’s banquet enjoyed food and drink, but they did not come to be gluttonous. They came to share a meal with an amazing teacher who changed the heart of their friend. They came to meet Jesus and listen to what he had to say.

The sinners’ hearts were likely more open to receive than those of the judgmental Pharisees.
© 2010 Mary van Balen