LINKS:
2009 Nobel Peace Prize Citation Obama’s remarks: Christian Science Monitor “Common Misconceptions about the Nobel Peace Prize” “Gasps as Obama awarded Nobel Peace Prize” AP article by Ritter and Moore President Obama’s UN Speech

News of President Obama receiving the Nobel Peace Prize energized me for the day. “Hope” is the word I would use to describe my reaction, hope for the possibility of change in the political climate of the world, and in this country. Hope for “the common good” becoming a guiding principle in policy and decisions.

In the citation awarding the prize (see link), the spokesperson for the Nobel Committee said Obama was chosen in part “…for his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples.” He was also recognized for creating “…a new climate in international politics,” and his call to those who listened to his U.N. speech in April (see link) that “Now is the time for all of us to take our share of responsibility for a global response to global problems.”

Some people are saying that this is too early in Obama’s presidency to award him such an honor. “He hasn’t done anything yet,” they say. Others think the Nobel Committee’s choice cheapens the prize. “It is usually given to a person who has achieved something concrete,” they say. In an article by the Associated Press, Geir Lundestad, the secretary of the Nobel Committee, said that is not true, and that more often, it is given to encourage the recipient to continue their work, sometimes at “critical moments.” (see link: Common Misconceptions)

Surely, this is a critical moment at home and abroad. The issues we face are momentous: arms control, climate change, wars, terrorism, poverty, and genocide, to name some. As Obama has said, these challenges cannot be met by a single person or nation. They require the cooperation of all nations, of all peoples.

That is what I found hopeful about the Nobel Committee’s choice of President Obama. They have put the prestige and international stature of the prize behind Obama’s efforts to rally leaders of nations and ordinary citizens to accept responsibility and become involved in making a difference in our world. The committee members see the promise in Obama’s vision. Awarding this prize to the one they see as “the world’s leading spokesman”(see link, Citation) for such an approach, sends a message to the world: This is possible. Let us put aside differences, see what binds us together, and move forward to bring peace and justice.

A surprised and humble Obama said as much when he spoke to reporters in the Rose Garden this morning: “I will accept this award as a call to action, a call for all nations to confront the challenges of the 21st century…Let me be clear, I do not view it as a recognition of my own accomplishments, but rather as an affirmation of American leadership on behalf of aspirations held by people in all nations.”

I send my congratulations to President Obama for engendering hope and providing leadership in the worldwide search for peace. My prayer is that people of this country and the world will be encouraged anew to work for peace in their hearts, their families, their cities. Peace is a “bottom up” endeavor. It ripples out from individual efforts no matter how small, and makes a difference. Such efforts, multiplied millions of times over, will be what enable Obama and world leaders to achieve this goal. In the end, they represent us and our commitment to justice and peace.

Neither detractors nor supporters of Obama and his policies can sit back and wait to see whether he succeeds or fails. That would be an abdication of responsibility. As the chairman of the Norwegian Nobel Committe, Thorbjoern Jangland, said, “If everything goes wrong, then one cannot say that this was because of Barack Obama. It could be that it is because of all of us, all the others, that did not respond.” (see link, Gasps…)

The possibility for the success of Obama’s call for cooperation and action based on shared human values lies not only in his hands and the hands those in positions of power, but also in the hearts of ordinary people in the United States and around the world who make known by word and action their desire for it.

“I think October is a month of reminiscing,” a friend of mine said yesterday after we shared some laughter over memories of a backpacking trip I had taken across western Europe. I wasn’t sure how the topic had come up and said so.
“There is something about this time of year that leads us to sit back and remember. I don’t know what it is, but I do believe that.”

I think she is right. Perhaps the October tendency to muse out loud has to do with our agrarian past. After the harvest had been gathered and winter cold was yet to come, our ancestors could savor the fruits of their hard work.

Then there are smells. They can transport us in an instant to an experience from the past, Fall air carries its own set: decaying plants, fallen leaves, and smoke from burning wood; sweet aromas of apples, hot chocolate, and cider; the smell of new books, packed lunches, and newly sharpened pencils.

Or could the tilt of the earth and its path around our fiery star that bathe everything in autumn’s softer light encourage our eyes to linger and our thoughts to wander?

Maybe the clear, dark skies that show off stars and the bright, white moon at night make those who gaze into it thoughtful as they become aware again of their small footprint in the vastness of creation.

Even in a world far removed from one in which people used position of heavenly bodies rather than digital readouts to tell the time and order their days, nature’s deep, enduring power seeps through barriers of glass and steel, and overloaded schedules. It stirs our souls and sends memories floating to consciousness.

October is a delicious time to savor. And that reminds me of making pies from butternut squash we grew in the garden instead of pumpkin that comes in a can.

I walked downstairs this morning and saw today’s newspaper laying on the dining room table. The headline and photo arrested my attention: “WHICH IS MORE HUMANE?” The photo showed the death house at an Ohio prison that held both an electric chair and a gurney used when giving a lethal injection.

Together the photo and headline seemed an oxymoron. How could putting someone to death possibly be humane, no matter how it is done? The question was raised as the result of the inability of a team of emergency medical technicians in Ohio to execute a prisoner by lethal injection. They tried for almost two hours and could not find a suitable vein for the IV. Gov. Ted Strickland finally called a halt to the prolonged attempt. The inmate’s lawyers are appealing, and at the moment the man convicted of abducting, raping, and murdering a fourteen year old girl has no execution date set.

Many Ohioans are outraged. “Why worry about being humane to a cold-blooded murderer?” they ask. His heinous crime gives permission to treat him as less than a human being, or so some people are saying.

In the Catholic Church October is “Respect Life Month.” Many church-goers will hear sermons on the need to end abortions. Life is a gift. True. But life is a gift from its beginning to its end. I am struck by the apparent ease with which some who are adamantly opposed to abortion change their “respect life” stance when the death penalty is involved.

Emotionally, supporting the right of an innocent unborn baby to be born is much easier that holding out for the right of a convicted killer to live his or her life to its natural end. The desire for vengeance is strong.

Once while driving home from work, I heard a NPR program featuring people who had put prisoners to death sharing memories of the executions they had participated in. I couldn’t listen to the entire program; my stomach was sick.

As long as a person has life, he or she has the possibility of transformation. Jesus did not give up on the those who crucified him or the criminal who hung beside him. Redemption is God’s gift. Judging anyone irredeemable is not our right.

Years ago in Texas, a woman who had murdered her husband was executed despite her transformation. She had become a model prisoner and was praised by guards for helping other inmates. She had become a Christian, and her faith which had moved her to serve others where she was, strengthened her as she faced death that came despite appeals from around the world to spare her life. Even the Pope had pleaded for her, recognizing the good work she was doing.

Why was she murdered? She was a wonderful example of rehabilitation that worked. The system would not forgive.

I hope that in this “Respect Life Month” we will look at all life, even the most corrupted and repugnant, and realize that we have no right to take it away. Instead we should pray for the sinners, for their victims and their victims’ families and leave the end of life to the One that began it.

How much easier to tackle a project like painting a room when others share the work! A friend has helped me with preparing and painting the wood trim. I am actually looking forward to finishing it! My daughter agreed to paint the ceiling. This little “office” will be bright and ready to hold bookshelves, desks, and a computer before I know it.

Happy St. Francis Day!

This was a feast day I celebrated with my children by baking animal-shaped sugar cookies or buying a big bag of animal crackers! Even when they were away in college, I sent animal cookies. This year I did not think about the feast until it was almost here, too late to send anything. I conveyed my greetings over email or cell phone, but that is not the same.

Of course, my adult children did not need the animal crackers. There is just something about keeping traditions, no matter how small, that connect our present to the past and the future. Traditions are a constant in a world that is always changing. Traditions bring the warm comfort of memories, especially appreciated when the present is cold and harsh. Next year I will try not to forget.

Today will be a gift to myself: I am painting a small bedroom that will become my office. It has been sitting empty, waiting. Weeks ago, my brother prepared the walls, filling in cracks and repairing a little water damage, not much for a ninety-year-old home. Why have I waited so long to pick up where he left off? Doing something for myself often is more difficult than doing something for others.

This may be a “mother’s syndrome.” Attuned to needs of our families from the moment we wake to cradle a crying infant, we buy clothes, pack lunches, and organize impossible schedules. We dry tears, cheer at games, and help with homework. We listen, hold, and make our house a home.

These are good things, but sometimes in the process, I forget the necessity of doing something for “me.” Painting my office does not seem as important as meeting with concerned students, being with my father, celebrating a daughter’s entrance into grad school, or riding along as she makes a last minute run for computer parts. (Those errands are always more fun when done with someone else.)

The hours spent for others, especially my children, are treasures I would not trade for any amount of time or money. Relationships are most important: God, family, and those who people my life. Still, how easy to forget the relationship with self, the need to nurture one’s spirit so it does not wither. I can tell when mine is drying up: I resent others and their needs. I want to go away, read a book, or watch a movie, anything that does not demand attentiveness.

What wilts my spirit ? Lack of sleep. Constant activity. Neglect of prayer. Not being able to say “no.” Stress. Bad eating habits. Nothing new. What we all know, but often ignore.

I would like to claim all of the above as reasons for not painting the room, but to be honest, I have to throw in a bit of procrastination. That being said, I am taking this day and making a beautiful space for myself. As I work, I will remember that God wants me to have what I need. After all, she is a mother, too.

Words from “October Days” by M. van Balen
Photos: by M. van Balen The Collegeville Institute

“THE SUN HITS THE LEAVES ALREADY ON FIRE…”

“…FLAMING TO THE SKY…”

“LEAVES ON THE TREES, ON THE GROUND, AND IN THE AIR SMILE AS I WALK BY…”

October has arrived with the brilliance I have come to expect: bright blue skies, leaves kindled by afternoon sun or softened in evening light. Crisp air energizes me and announces colder temperatures to come. I look forward to throwing on a sweater or burrowing under blankets at night.

For years, our family spent a late October weekend in a rustic cement block “lodge” nestled between wooded ridges and streams. We roasted apples, played games, hiked, and kept a fire burning in the huge fireplace for three days. No one minded the absence of TV or telephones.

One frosty morning when I was twenty-something, I hopped onto my bicycle and peddled around neighborhood streets drinking in the glory of an October morning. When the beauty of it became overwhelming, I rode home, took out my guitar and turned the experience into a song, “October Days.”

I often kept vigil on September 30, waiting for the earth to slip into October and when it idid, I serenaded it with my song. My children remember staying up with me when they were young, eager to sing in the season. One or another of them still calls to share in welcoming the month.

“…The sun shining on the grass makes the dew look like ice;
and the wind on my face is cold.
It makes me want to smile and say to the world,
I’d say ‘Wake up world, and love this day.
It’s a gift you know, and it’s yours
If you only knew the way
to get lost in an October day…”

It’s raining. For those sitting in the stadium waiting for the big game to begin or for my daughter who rode her motorcycle over to join me for lunch, that is not such a good thing. But I don’t mind. Rain makes me want to find a good book, fix a cup of tea, and spend the day reading. My daughter called after work yesterday and said the weather on the east coast was grey and wet. “I want to go back to my apartment, put on my sweats, and just veg. Maybe read a book or watch a movie. If my friends want to get together we can sit around my place, mess and all.”

In a voice that exuded relief, one friend told me that he was scrapping his outdoor “to do list” and working on quieter, more reflective tasks inside.Rain provides permission to change plans to something we would rather be doing. I am not sure why that is true, but for me, it always has been. Waking up to the staccato sound of rain on the windows or the tin roof over my old study immediately filled my mind with alternatives to the day’s schedule: Instead of going to work, I could stay home and cook an amazing dinner or bake a batch of cookies. I could write the long overdue letter to my friend in California. I could take a walk if the rain were warm.

The older I get, the less often I follow the subversive rain whispers of abandoning “adult” responsibilities for spontaneous pursuits. But I am glad the rain hasn’t quit making the suggestions, and I am never sorry when I follow its advice.