justice

October 27, 2020 By Mary van Balen 3 Comments

To Live Justly, To Love

Painting by Laurie VanBalen, Project Director and Producer of Columbus Crossing Borders Project

The Scripture readings for Sunday, November 25, and Pope Francis’s new encyclical, Fratelli Tutti, share major themes that speak to current global and national issues. The texts clearly place this call front and center: Love and care for our neighbors (that’s everyone) and the common good, and turn from “idols” that hinder us from doing so.

Exodus reminds us that the poor, marginalized, and vulnerable among us deserve special respect and care. This is not an option. This is not charity. It is justice required by a compassionate God. When they are mistreated, God hears their cries.

The pandemic has highlighted the inability of the global community to work together to address the crisis. It has revealed failures and fissures in this country’s polices, institutions, and lack of will when it comes to justice and providing for those living on the edges.

Pope Francis introduces the social encyclical’s first chapter, “Dark Clouds Over a Closed World,” saying he intends “…simply to consider certain trends in our world that hinder the development of universal fraternity” (9). [Numbers after Fratelli Tutti quotes indicate the paragraph in the document where they are found.]

His list of concerns includes a throwaway world where “Some parts of our human family, it appears, can be readily sacrificed for the sake of others considered worthy of a carefree existence. Ultimately, persons are no longer seen as a paramount value to be cared for and respected, especially when they are poor and disabled, ‘not yet useful’ – like the unborn, or ‘no longer needed’ – like the elderly” (18).

Among other topics addressed in this section are the pandemic (32), loss of a sense of history that leads to “new forms of cultural colonization” (14), the spreading of despair and discouragement and using extremism and polarization as political tools (15), unequal respect of universal human rights (22), the fading sense of being part of a “single human family” (30), and poor treatment of migrants crossing borders around the world (37).

In Sunday’s gospel from Luke, Jesus elevates the call to love and care for our neighbors. When asked what the greatest command was, he had two, not one: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. Everything, he said, depends on these two.

Chapter Two of Fratelli Tutti reflects on perhaps the most well-known parable in the New Testament: The Good Samaritan. Francis warns against the danger of hypocrisy evidenced by the priest and Levite, who passed the injured man without stopping to help: “It shows that belief in God and the worship of God are not enough to ensure that we are actually living in a way pleasing to God (74).” He encourages readers to start small, acting at local levels and then moving out to needs in their countries and in the world. “Difficulties that seem overwhelming are opportunities for growth, not excuses for a glum resignation that can lead only to acquiescence” (78).

Detail from The Good Samaritan by Vincent van Gogh

He writes forceful words about the Samaritan caring for the injured man and what that example means for us:

“… it leaves no room for ideological manipulation and challenges us to expand our frontiers. It gives a universal dimension to our call to love, one that transcends all prejudices, all historical and cultural barriers, all petty interests” (83).

In Sunday’s second reading, St. Paul praises the Thessalonians in part for turning away from idols to serve the true God. When reading about idols in Scripture, I don’t always make the connection to the idols in my life. It’s tempting to relegate them to earlier eras and the worship of statues or images.

But certainly, this age has its idols that get in the way of serving God and joining in the work of bringing God’s kingdom.

Everything, then, depends on our ability to see the need for a change of heart, attitudes and lifestyles.
Pope Francis Fratelli Tutti

Fratelli Tutti makes numerous references throughout to what I would call “idols” today: aggressive nationalism, limitless consumption, individualism, wealth, control, and self-interest to name a few.

Francis sees hope in the midst of the gloom – in willingness to dialogue and engage in genuine encounter, in the desire to love. God has placed goodness in the human heart, and many go about their ordinary days trying to be true neighbors, remembering no one is saved alone; we share the same hope; we sail in the same boat.

These readings and this encyclical are deeply challenging, if we take them seriously. In these times, how can we not? As Pope Francis writes, “Everything, then, depends on our ability to see the need for a change of heart, attitudes and lifestyles” (166).

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: Columbus Crossing Borders Project, Common Good, compassion, compassionate God, Fratelli Tutti, global community, Good Samaritan, idols, justice, marginalized, pandemic, poor, Pope Francis, transforming love, universal human rights

July 2, 2020 By Mary van Balen 13 Comments

Letting the Light In

Full disclosure: I’ve tried to write this column for weeks. Thoughts and notes spill across my journal pages; drafts of documents sit on my laptop. Prayer and vigil candles are spent. Life feels heavy. Sometimes overwhelming. The state of our world and our country is revealing the dark, shadowy side beneath our comfortable façade. And cracks in that façade are everywhere.

Leonard Cohen’s lyric from Anthem comes to mind: “There is a crack, a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” True enough. But cracks can also make things fall apart – as some must do – before they are put back together or something new is made. In the process, it’s often the cracks we see, not the light.

You may find that true today. The world struggles to find responses to climate change and the will to implement them. The the pandemic brings not only sickness and death, but economic crisis, causing millions to struggle to survive. It challenges the world’s “normal” which, really, hasn’t been working all that well.

Our country, fractured by political turmoil, division, and fumbled responses to COVID-19, must also recognize the racism that is staring in our collective face. The video of George Floyd’s murder by policemen was a tipping point, coming closely on the heels of other senseless murders of African Americans. Protests erupted across the U.S. and the world and continue today. They must. They make us look. They reveal cracks that have crazed our nation even before it was born.

“What can I do?” I ask myself. I don’t have answers; I have questions. It’s time for white people to look deeply at their own stories and those of their ancestors and recognize how they have benefited from systemic racism for generations. We can educate ourselves. Reading and discussing the book Waking Up White: And Finding Myself in the Story of Race by Debby Irving, is jarring as our group listens to the long history of racism and slavery in our country from the beginning, hearing how early it was codified into our laws.

Truth illuminates the cracks. It’s the light that gets in. And once it does, we have a choice. The line before Cohen’s famous one quoted above is this: “Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering.” Our efforts will not be perfect, but they must be made.

We all must do the hard work of hearing the truth and making changes in our lives and in the laws and practices of this country. On a walk in my neighborhood I noticed two messages painted on the sidewalk: “Black Lives Matter” and “You can do hard things.”

These unprecedented times demand we recognize the truth of both. There is much in our world and in our nation that requires doing hard things for the good of all.

This year, July 4 presents an opportunity to reflect on our country, to consider its history through an inclusive lens, and to work for its future. When I pondered the Roman Catholic Lectionary readings for this holiday, the one from Philippians spoke to my heart:

Finally brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things…

It is hopeful. It reminded me to look for what is good in the world, in one another, in our dreams and values. To focus on justice and truth. To hold tight to them. To look for the light coming in through the cracks.

But that wasn’t all. The reading continued:

Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me.

What have we seen in Jesus? Love. He was all love. Love of God. Love of neighbor. He stood with the poor and marginalized. He challenged those who abused power and were greedy, concerned only with their own comfort and well-being. He told the Good Samaritan story: everyone is our neighbor; we must take care of one another. He never saw anyone as “other.” Everyone belonged. In the end, he was murdered by a world that couldn’t accept such radical, inclusive love.

This reading calls us to hope and also to act, like Jesus, keeping our hearts set on what is good and just. On Love. To use our hands and feet and minds and talents to bring more of it into this world. And, as the reading ends, Then the God of peace will be with you.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment, Widening Our Circles Tagged With: Action, Anthem, Black Lives Matter, civil rights, Cracks that's how the light gets in, equality, hope, humility, justice, Leonard Cohen, light, love

May 5, 2020 By Mary van Balen 10 Comments

Liberation Day and Inspiration from WWII

“Food, Peace, Freedom” Commemorative Plaque 1945, Delft

Yesterday I received an email from a cousin in the Netherlands telling me about two special days observed in her country, yesterday and today: Day of Remembrance (May 4) and Liberation Day (May 5). The first honors those who gave their lives during WWII. The second celebrates the end of German occupation of Holland and the end of the war.

In her email, she shared stories of her mother and father’s work during those dark days. Her mother helped bring hungry children from the city to Friesland (a northern province of the Netherlands) where the farmers had food and people were happy to provide shelter and nourishment to the youngsters. Her father helped collect guns, air dropped in nearby fields, to be used by the Dutch resistance. He and his comrades carried messages by bicycle- with wooden wheels- to those in the resistance. (Bicycles were forbidden, so just having one was dangerous.) All this was done on moonless nights to avoid being discovered.

Today, the people of the Netherlands will remember the Allied Forces that brought the war to an end and the GIs who rescued the “hungry and exhausted people of Holland.”

She also remembered my father, who joined in a flight that was part of Operation Chowhound/Manna dropping food to the starving Dutch people. He was stationed in England, an Intelligence officer, but went on the mission because his father was a Dutch immigrant with a large family remaining in the Netherlands.

Decades later, a Dutch couple appeared at my parents’ door. They brought a brass flare that had been used to light up the field where food was dropped near their home. It was a gift to Dad, a “Thank You.”

I have a Delft plaque that memorializes that food drop. Looking at it now, I pause, remember, and give thanks for the self-giving of so many.

Life brings unexpected challenges. For my parents’ generation, WWII called them to great sacrifice, making the world a safer place for generations to come.

For us today, the great challenge is the pandemic. The first call is for us to do our part in stopping the spread of COVID-19 starting with quarantine, social distancing, and wearing face masks. But a bigger challenge will remain after a vaccine is found and the people of the world are able to move about more safely. Like WWII, the coronavirus will require people and countries around the world to work together. But instead of fighting to end the scourge of Nazism, our struggle is to change the way human beings live on this planet.

We must find ways to respect the earth and live without destroying it. We must find ways to live as a global family, not as warring tribes.

Remembering, along with my cousin, the sacrifices made by our parents has awakened a deep appreciation for the example they have given us: the courage to hope at a time when what needs done seems impossible; the willingness to sacrifice for the good of others, and the strength to go on when all seems lost.

Today, commitment to the common good is lacking in the hearts of many who, instead, hold on to a sense of privilege and of the value of working for self interests rather than for what is best for all. The uneven response in the U.S. to this pandemic and the clinging to an illusion of rugged independence with little regard for “the other” is evidence of such a mindset.

Mindful of the demands WWII placed on people of the world, I listen in disbelief to protestors today who cry that their rights are being trampled when they are told to wear a face mask. Wearing a face mask in public to protect others and combat this virus is too much to do? Really? A friend suggested that perhaps they don’t understand the importance of that simple action. Perhaps. I hope they catch on soon.

Our challenge is overwhelming. It’s about creating a new, sustainable way of being with one another and with the earth. Different than what faced those in WWII, the response must also be different. The way forward needs to be one of peaceful cooperation, not war. It seems impossible.

Now, when I look at that Delft plaque, it will be a source of inspiration to move ahead and not only of remembrance. It will encourage resolve to continue the legacy of those who worked together for a common purpose. As we begin the long process of change, I’ll draw hope from their hope. And love from their love.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: climate change, Common Good, cooperation, justice, Liberation Day, Response to COVID-19, WWII

February 13, 2020 By Mary van Balen 7 Comments

Proximity and Hope

“Nocturne Navigator” Alison Saar, 1998
Collection: Columbus Gallery of Art “…commemorates those involved with the Underground Railroad…The figure’s billowing skirt, illuminated from within, shows the constellations of stars that would help guide the fugitives on their nighttime journey, while her heavenly gaze and outstretched arms suggest a mix of anguish, prayer, and gratitude.” (from museum signage)

A movie or book can be transforming. For Black History Month, I’m sharing an experience with both. In January, I attended a movie with friends: Just Mercy.

Based on the book Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption, written by Bryan Stevenson and published in 2014, the movie centers around Stevenson’s representation of death-row inmate Walter McMillian, appealing his murder conviction.

Stevenson is a Black public interest lawyer who, after graduating from Harvard Law School, went to Alabama to represent those who had been illegally convicted or poorly represented at their trials.

Just Mercy is powerful and sometimes difficult to watch. If you don’t think racism’s roots are deeply embedded in this country when you walk in, you’ll be questioning your assumption when you walk out. But the movie isn’t only about the fear, hatred, and oppression that has been visited upon Black Americans since their forced arrival as slaves. Or how fear and ignorance disfigure the oppressors. Its main message is about accepting truth, about hope and the possibility of change.

The movie includes Stevenson’s 1989 founding of the nonprofit Equal Justice Initiative (EJI), located in Montgomery, Alabama. According to its website, EJI is “… committed to ending mass incarceration and excessive punishment in the United States, to challenging racial and economic injustice, and to protecting basic human rights for the most vulnerable people in American society.”

In talks across the country, Stevenson names hope as one of the four things necessary to effect change. He calls it a “superpower” and the enemy of injustice. “It is what makes you stand up when someone tells you to sit down.”

He names another element necessary for change: proximity. In a speech at Penn State in Abington, Stevenson gave this advice: “We need to get closer to people who are suffering and disfavored so we can understand their challenges and their pain. We can’t create solutions from a distance. Decide to get closer to people who are suffering, marginalized, disadvantaged, poor. Only in proximity to those who are suffering can we change the world.”

Reading this, I thought of Pope Francis’s call, early in his pontificate, for priests to be close to the people they serve: “This is what I am asking you — be shepherds with the smell of sheep.”

Jesus lived that out. He spent time with ordinary people and those on the margins. He counted fishermen and tax collectors as his early followers and included women in his close circle of friends and disciples. He ate and drank with sinners, much to the dismay of religious leaders who kept their distance.

I’ve also been reading Howard Thurman’s book, Jesus and the Disinherited. A Black theologian, pastor, and spiritual mentor to Martin Luther King Jr., Thurman reminds us that Jesus was marginalized. He was poor, and he was a Jew in an occupied land. Jesus knew the suffering of those on the edge, or as Thurman might say “those with their backs to the wall.” He devotes a chapter to fear and its effects on people.

But Jesus’s response to marginalization was not fear. It was not violence. It was love. It wasn’t separation from those who were suffering. It was proximity. He showed us how to love and to serve our neighbor—who is everyone.

He spoke the truth. He healed on the Sabbath. He said the Kingdom of God is within us. He had hope and faith in the One who sent him and in the power of compassion. He stood up when he was told to sit down.

This month is a good time to reflect on our history, the state of our country, and the divisiveness that is increasingly expressed in violence against “the other” – not only Blacks, but also Jews, LGBTQ+ people, the poor, and immigrants.

If you’re able, see the movie (or read the book). Read Howard Thurman. They invite us to ponder how we can, as Isaiah admonishes, remove oppression, false accusations, and malicious speech from our midst; to ponder how can we share our bread with the hungry and give shelter to the homeless.

They challenge us to follow Jesus’s example of walking with the marginalized and of love, to believe that love will cast out fear and bring hope instead.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: "Just Mercy", Bryan Stevenson, civil rights, compassion, Equal Justice Initiative, equality, hope, Howard Thurman, Jesus and the Disinherited, justice, LGBT, love, marginalized, racism

September 27, 2019 By Mary van Balen 8 Comments

Deeds Come First

Peter Claver, a 16^th century Spaniard, was canonized by the Roman Catholic church as a saint in 1888, but he is not well-known. He was born in 1581 and entered the Jesuits there in 1601. In 1610 he went to the missions in America, landing in Cartagena, a port city in what is now Columbia, that was a major stop for slave ships. He was ordained in 1616 and spent his life serving the 10,000 enslaved Africans who arrived every year.

Claver considered himself a slave to the slaves and began ministering to them from the time the ships docked. He made his way into the hold, encountering people who had survived the most horrid conditions imaginable. (About one-third of them didn’t.)

The image I have of Peter Claver is one of a man moving among the people, providing food and water, medicine and care as he treated their physical wounds. “Deeds come first, then the words,” is a quote attributed to him. His life bears that out. It was attention to basic human needs that came first. Only later, using translators and sometimes pictures, would he try to communicate with the Africans some ideas of Christianity and God’s love for them.

Through his deeds and words, Claver treated people with respect, honoring the dignity due every human being. No exceptions. That’s the lesson of his life that stays with me today.

While 400 years have passed since the first slave ship arrived on our shores, the repercussions of slavery remain. Racism is deeply embedded in our country and continues to deny this most basic right to our African American sisters and brothers, challenging us to respond.

Dehumanizing people, marginalizing them is all too easy. The list of “reasons” is long: People look “different,” speak another language, embrace a faith different from our own. Fear of difference, threats to one’s way of life, ignorance—These are on the list, too.

Painting by Laurie VanBalen, Project Director and Producer of Columbus Crossing Borders Project

As I thought of Peter Claver’s instinctive action to first alleviate human suffering, the plight of refugees at our Southern border came to mind. They come mostly from Central and South America, fleeing unspeakable violence, poverty, and fear for their lives. How are they met?

I spoke with Sister Barbara Kane, a member of the Dominican Sisters of Peace in Columbus, Ohio. She and others in her community have traveled to El Paso to serve as they could.

She spoke of refugees’ long waits in enclosed areas (some liken them to cages) until they have their Credible Fear Hearing (when the refugee states what has driven them to seek asylum.)

“The enclosures have concrete floors, are kept at 60 degrees, and are so small people are packed together, unable to lie down to sleep,” Sr. Barbara said. People receive little food. Yet, despite the great needs, no one is allowed inside to help.

After the Credible Fear Hearing, people are sent back to Mexican cities to wait again until their sponsors can be reached, and background checks run. The cities are not equipped to house so many refugees whose stay can last for weeks or months.

Once sponsors are contacted and cleared, the asylum seekers come back to the U.S and are placed in hospitality houses. The Annunciation House is where Sr. Barbara served.

“That’s where volunteers finally meet the refugees and offer help. We provide a hot shower, clean clothes, food, and a bed to sleep in,” Sr. Barbara said. Eventually, volunteers drive the refugees to the airport or bus terminals as they begin the journey to their sponsors. With fewer people making it through to this point, volunteers may have time to listen to the refugees’ stories.

“I came away convinced that the vast majority of these parents just want their children to be safe and secure and to have a future,” Sr. Barbara added. “They’re not gaming the system. They’re not bad people. They’re good, loving parents.”

If you, like me, are unable to go to the border to help in person, there are a variety of ways to support those who do. A quick Google search will provide many options. Sr. Barbara offers these suggestions for donations:

Donate directly to the Annunciation House at their website: annunciationhouse.org/contact, or send a check to 1003 E. San Antonio Ave., El Paso TX 79901-2620.
The Diocese of El Paso ministry, Diocesan Migrants and Refugee Services, Inc. accepts online donation: dmrs-ep.org; or mail a check to DMRS, 2400 Yandell Dr. El Paso TX, 79903.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment, Widening Our Circles Tagged With: acceptance, civil rights, compassion, Dominican Sisters of Peace, equality, grace, hope, humility, immigrants, inclusion, justice, Peter Claver, Sister Barbara Kane, slavery

April 11, 2019 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

The Challenge and Grace of Embracing Truth

We are often afraid of the truth. Rather than experiencing it as a way to experiencing a deeper reality, we see it as something that up ends our world, threatens our sense of security, and even our sense of self. We have found a comfortable place to “fit in,” and we don’t want anyone or anything to disturb it. It’s how we make sense of the world.

Jesus brought the challenge of truth with him and he certainly disturbed the religious status quo of his time. Many religious leaders and officials didn’t see how they would fit in to his world view. They had narrowed their vision to see the world through their lenses of laws and rituals and understanding of history that made sense to them and that assured their place in it. Jesus and his truth were a threat and, as we observe on Good Friday, he was murdered for it.

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

April 10 was the anniversary of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, (1846-1955), Jesuit priest, scientist (geologist and paleontologist), theologian, and mystic whose work informed his spirituality. Much of what he wrote and spoke about was unacceptable to some who had the authority to deny his ability to publish, teach, or lecture.

Despite the censure of his work, he remained faithful to his vows of obedience and to the church, as painful and disheartening as it was. After his death, his work was published and has informed much current theology and spirituality. If you are familiar with the work of Richard Rohr, to mention only one, you will have been introduced in some way to Teilhard’s theology of evolution on both a physical and spiritual level and the incarnation of God in all matter.

I have always believed that sincere seekers of truth, whatever their field of study, spiritual path, or human experience, will come eventually to the same place: The Holy One who is Truth.

In The Gallery of Paleontology and Comparative Anatomy, part The National Museum of Natural History Paris, France
PHOTO: Mary van Balen

One night, when my middle daughter was five, I went upstairs to check on her and found her wide awake.

“Mom,” she said, “I don’t know what to do. I love God, but I love science, too. Some people say that people and dinosaurs lived at the same time. That the Bible talks about everything being created at once. But dinosaurs and people didn’t live together. Paleontologists know that.”

She sighed “I don’t know which to choose, God or science.”

“The good news is you don’t have to choose,” I said. The Bible isn’t a science book. The writers of the Bible were telling stories and sharing history that pointed to the truth as they knew it about God. They were truth seekers.

Scientists are looking for truth, too. Sometimes they have to change what they thought because a new discovery proves it wrong. But they keep observing and experimenting.

All truth leads to God. So, you don’t have to worry. The Bible. Science. Truth. Eventually, they take you to the same place.”

She smiled. “I’m glad,” she said, then rolled over and went to sleep.

First photo of a black hole
Credit: Event Horizon Telescope Collaboration

Seeking truth and accepting it when it isn’t what’s expected takes openness and humility as well as courage. History is full of examples. In our own time, new discoveries and understandings in many fields challenge the status quo. What do we know of race, of the cosmos, of human psychology, of the effect of human activity on our planet? Truth is always drawing us forward into new territory.

“Conventional truth” confronted Jesus as he entered Jerusalem. It made sense to his palm-waving, excited followers, caught up in signs and wonders. Of course, he would be King. It made sense to them, but not to Jesus.

Jesus refused to deny the truth of who he was. He had a message for all people, for all creation that transcended religion, politics and power. His work was to proclaim the radical love of God for all and in all.

That truth was hard for his followers to accept. It certainly turned their world upside down. For some it was too much to accept.

The same is true for us. Jesus’s message and our slowly evolving way of experiencing it is a challenge. It requires us to both let go and to accept. We can never understand God. But we can believe that always, God is drawing all things closer to the Divine Self until one day, we will understand that, mysterious as it is, we are one.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: climate change, creation, humility, inclusion, justice, love, Palm Sunday, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, radical love, truth, unconditional love

September 9, 2018 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

Rev. Graetz: Standing Together for Justice

Rev. Robert and Jeannie Graetz Photo: Mary van Balen

I browse New York Times (NYT) headlines in the mornings even though the news is often depressing and stirs anger and frustration rather than wonder at new-day possibilities. But one morning in August, I was surprised by a headline and photo of an old friend, Rev. Robert Graetz. “Bombed by the K.K.K. A Friend of Rosa Parks. At 90, This White Pastor Is Still Fighting,” it read. The article, by Alan Blinder, included an interview with Robert and his wife, Jeannie.

After being ordained a Lutheran minister in Columbus Ohio, he was assigned to his first pastorate in 1955—Trinity Lutheran, a predominantly Black congregation in Montgomery, Alabama. There he was practically the only white minister who publicly supported the bus boycott and as the NYT headlines reveal, he and his family paid a price. According to Jeannie, threats began “As soon as the Klan and the Klan-type people knew that we were involved.”

Back in Ohio

The Graetzes moved back to Ohio a few years later. They lived in a simple house nestled in the woods of southern Ohio. Robert wrote a monthly column, part of the “Point of View” series that ran during the 70s and 80s in the Catholic Times, the diocesan newspaper of Columbus, Ohio.

I knew Robert from reading his columns (and his first book, “Montgomery: A White Preacher’s Memoir”), but in October 1992, we met at an alternative observance of Columbus Day. The 4-day event was led by Indigenous Peoples. Covering it for the Catholic Times, I saw Robert, and we shared lunch and good conversation.

Rev. Graetz spoke at some Martin Luther King Jr. Day services I attended over the years. So, in the early 2000s, when I was an adult educator for a family literacy program severing poor, mostly single, young parents, Robert was my first choice to be an MLK Day speaker for our students.

Rev. Robert and Jeannie Graetz addressing a group of students

Photo: Mary van Balen

He and Jeannie came and shared stories, not only of their time and roles in Montgomery and the bus boycott, but also of their continued work for causes of justice and equality. It included the fight against racism and embraced other forms of injustice: sexism, income disparity, oppression of minorities based on ethnicity, sexual orientation, or anything that separates persons as “other.” Their message was written large on a tablet displayed beside them as they spoke: R.A.C.E.– Respect All Cultures Equally.

It wasn’t only the “big” message that touched my students. It was the little things. “Did you see how Jeannie slid that cough drop across the table to him when he started to cough?” they asked. Her simple act deeply moved those young parents who had been abused for most of their lives. They insisted that we drive up to Columbus to hear him preach at St. Philips Lutheran Church.

I enjoyed reading the NYT article that morning and learned that the Graetzes now live in Montgomery. It was good to remember people who inspired. Who walked the walk. People who did their best to love as Jesus loved and to take a stand against oppression and injustice when they saw it, despite danger to themselves and their family.

Divisiveness, violence, and hate that swirl around us today are disturbing. When asked for his thoughts about what was happening in Alabama and across our country, Robert said it’s “…one of the most dangerous periods of time I’ve ever been through in this world.” Sobering from one who has lived through tumultuous years of the Civil Rights Movement.

Hope

Photo of the bus Rosa Parks was riding when she refused to give up her seat.

The bus Rosa Parks was riding when she refused to give up her seat. Now at the Henry Ford Museum, Dearborn, MI.

Yet there is hope. During a 2011 PBS interview, Robert observed that many people thank Jeannie and him for what they did. He’s quick to point out that it wasn’t only what “they” did. He gives credit to the Women’s Political Council made up of Black American women who started the bus boycott and all those who were involved. “It was 50,000 Black people who stood together, who walked together, who worked together, who stood up against oppression,” he said. “If it had not been for this whole body of people working together, this would not have happened.”

At the end of the NYT article, he said that seeing two people getting together and smiling was a source of optimism for him.

I take these two thoughts to heart. Today we need to “be peace” where we are, in the little moments, showing love and support. Like Jeannie and the cough drop, you never know when small kindnesses will touch someone’s heart.

But we also need to work together as we speak out and stand up for justice today.

Similar column published in the Catholic Times, Columbus, Ohio. 9.9.2018

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: civil rights, equality, hope, inclusion, Jeannie Graetz, justice, LGBT, love, Martin Luther King Jr., Montgomery Bus Boycott, Rev. Robert Graetz, Rosa Parks, social justice

April 5, 2018 By Mary van Balen 2 Comments

Easter is More than History

Bouquet of bright flowers and cobalt blue glass water jug on table

Photo: Mary van Balen

Originally published in The Catholic Times, April 8, 2018

After the Resurrection, Jesus appeared over and over again to those who were closest to him. The gospel readings this week and through Sunday tell the stories. The women were the first to see him.

In Matthew’s gospel Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and John walked in the early morning to the tomb. They were the brave ones who watched the angel appear like lightening, roll back the stone, and sit on it, frightening the Roman guards into a death-like stupor. They listened to the angel and hurried to tell the disciples what they had seen and heard. On their way, Jesus appeared to them, calmed their fears, and told them to instruct the disciples to meet him in Galilee.

In Luke’s gospel, the women were again the first at the tomb. They saw it was empty and spoke to the messengers of God about what had happened. The women told Simon and John who thought their story was nonsense, though Peter went to check it out and saw the empty tomb just as the women had reported.

In John’s gospel, Mary Magdalene walked to the tomb alone, and seeing it was empty hurried to tell Peter and John. They ran to the tomb and saw it was as Mary had described. John noticed the neatly folded cloth that had covered Jesus’ face and believed. The men returned home, but Mary remained, weeping in her grief. She entered the tomb, spoke with the angels who appeared to her, and then turned around. She saw Jesus, though she didn’t recognize him until he called her name. He instructed her to tell the others that she had seen him and to share what he had said to her. Mary was the first entrusted with the Good news of the resurrection. The first to proclaim it to the others.

Jesus continued to appear to his disciples. He walked with two travelers on the road to Emmaus who didn’t recognize him until they broke bread together.

He appeared on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias where some of his disciples had been fishing all night, to no avail. His instructions led them to an extravagant catch, and they shared breakfast on the beach. Jesus moved through locked doors where his followers were gathered in fear and confusion. He blessed them with peace and breathed the Spirit into them with his own breath. He ate with them, showed them his wounds, and later invited Thomas to put his fingers into them so he would believe.

Who do you identify with as you ponder these different accounts? Mary Magdalene who recognized Jesus when he called her name? The brave women, fearful yet persistent as they watched the angels and then met Jesus while on their way to tell the others? Or are you more a skeptical Peter and John? Disciples who just couldn’t fathom the truth of what was being said? Would you recognize the risen Jesus or think he was a ghost? Or maybe you’d be a Thomas who needed physical proof before he’d believe.

We have the advantage of hindsight. I’d like to imagine I’d be like the brave women, bearing the light of angels, listening through my fear, and proclaiming the resurrection. I’m not so sure. I would more likely have been found behind locked doors worrying about what was next.

Reflecting on these readings and placing ourselves in the scenes can be a good meditation but pondering where we encounter the suffering and the risen Christ today in our world is also important. Do we recognize the Divine in others? What opens our eyes? Do we see the wounds of Jesus in the wounds of others? In ourselves? When we do see, how do we respond?

What we celebrate is not simply history. Easter is not only an event. It is a way of living. It is Divine activity that reverberates through time and space and all creation. And we are part of it.

We are called to follow Jesus’s example in our world. To stand with the suffering. To embrace hurt and woundedness in others and in ourselves with God’s transforming love.

Jesus was murdered because he was faithful to being the Love of God on a planet that just couldn’t handle it. But that wasn’t the end of the story. Love is dangerous. It is hard. But in the end, it prevails!

Blessed Eastering!

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: compassion, Easter, faith, Grace in the Moment, inclusion, justice, love, mercy, quiet prayer, spirituality, spring

December 13, 2017 By Mary van Balen 3 Comments

Celebrating Alabama

This morning I stopped at my favorite local stop for tea, quiche and scones—The Cambridge Tea House—for quiche and an order of bacon.

“I’m celebrating Alabama,” I said. The cashier smiled. I’m sure I’m not the only one.

Home, I read the paper’s headline story and enjoyed my breakfast while perusing The Washington Post’s
“Preliminary exit poll results: How different groups voted in Alabama.” It’s worth a look. And before I hurry off to work, I have to say “Thank you,” to the Black Alabamian voters for overwhelmingly casting their ballots for Doug Jones. The number of women who voted for Moore baffle me. Well, to be honest, anyone who voted for Moore baffle me at some level.

Still, it’s a victory to savor. The former U.S. attorney who successfully prosecuted two of the Ku Klux Klansmen who bombed the small church in Birmingham in 1963 bested the outspoken, bigoted Roy Moore. After work, I’ll take a closer look at the Washington Post’s informative infographics. For now, I’m walking with a little spring in my step.

Filed Under: Widening Our Circles Tagged With: Alabama special election, civil rights, Doug Jones, equality, hope, inclusion, justice, Roy Moore

October 5, 2017 By Mary van Balen 4 Comments

Doing What We Have Learned

Abstract painting of people of all colors embracing

Painting by Richard Duarte Brown

Originally published in The Catholic Times Oct. 8, 2017

Perhaps it’s because I’m weary of the divisive speech that is becoming more commonplace in our country and of the racism and ignorance of the “other” that undergird it. Maybe it’s hearing hateful comments, seeing intolerance, and recognizing that choices are being made to stoke fear and anger rather that to encourage true listening and dialogue. It’s these things and more that make me read and reread Paul’s words this Sunday, healing, like balm on an open sore:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Philippians 4, 8)

A friend at work gave me a flyer about a unity celebration being held at a local Episcopal church that Sunday evening. I’m glad I went. It was something gracious and lovely that reminded me of the many good people who, in ways large and small, are being love in the world.

A woman opened the celebration with a drum call to gather everyone, including the ancestors. I thought of my parents. Of people who have gone before, working for civil rights. I thought of the communion of saints.

The rector welcomed us and read “Blessing When the World is Ending” by Jan Richardson. It finishes on a hopeful note:

This blessing/will not fix you,/will not mend you,/ will not give you/false comfort;/it will not talk to you/about one door opening/when another one closes./ It will simply/sit beside you/among the shards/and gently turn your face/toward the direction/from which the light/will come,/gathering itself/about you/as the world begins/again.

A young Syrian refugee, 13 when she arrived speaking no English, 17 now, shared her powerful poetry. A woman pastor reminded us that while we look different on the outside, we are the same on the inside and pointed out the fact that human beings are made with two ears and one tongue, perhaps indicating we should listen more and talk less.

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Two young women in flowing white dresses gracefully danced their prayer to the One we can’t live without, expressing with their movements the prayer in my heart. An Imam spoke of Islam and respect for all prophets. We listened and learned.

A folksinger led us in “We shall not be moved,” a song loosely based on verses from Jerimiah about one who is like a tree firmly planted by the water surviving drought and yielding fruit. A young girl called out that we should sing for peace. And we did.

A Jewish rabbi considered that we have many names the for same Holy One. She spoke of the prophets of old and wondered about today’s prophets. About being prophets and being bold.

A soloist shook the rafters and sang about God breathing on us, and I felt the Spirit-breath.

A community organizer pulled wisdom from each presentation and put them into questions for us to ponder.

Afterwards, we shared food, listened to stories, and wondered why all churches don’t have evenings like this.

Paul’s final words in that verse from Philippians—Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Then the God of peace will be with you—prompted me to consider that what we learn from Paul, he learned from Jesus. What have I learned and heard and seen in Jesus that transforms me?

painting: The Good van Gogh Samaritan, by Vincent

The Good Samaritan by Vincent van Gogh

In the gospels, I have learned that love, not power, is important. That one’s life doesn’t consist of possessions. That everyone is my neighbor, and I must take care of them. I have seen Jesus heal the sick, feed the hungry, hang out with those on the margins, and eat with outcasts. He was welcoming, patient, and merciful. He was a man of prayer. On his last night on earth he prayed “…that they may be one as we are one—I in them and you in me…” I watched Jesus wash his disciples’ feet and instruct them to do the same. He spoke truth to power, faithfully lived that truth, and was murdered for it.

I heard him say that whatever we do to the least among us, we do to him. And when it came right down to it, when someone asked him what was most important, he had two things to say: Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself.

These are the things we need to keep on doing, each of us bringing the God of peace who dwells in us into our times and places. Through all people of peace, God transforms the world.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: civil rights, compassion, equality, immigrants, inclusion, justice, LGBT, love, mercy