Mary van Balen

Today's Old Testament reading is one of my favorites. From Genesis 28, 10-22a, it tells the story of Jacob stopping to sleep while journeying to find a wife from his mother's people. He takes a stone for a pillow and dreams of a ladder, or ramp, stretching from the earth to the heavens, filled with angels or messengers ascending and descending. In the dream, God was looking over him and promised the land to Jacob and his descendants, who would be "like the dust of the earth," a blessing to "all the clans of the earth."

"And look," God continues, "I am with you and I will guard you wherever you go and I will being you back to this land, for I will not leave you until I have done that which I have spoken to you."

Jacob woke up and said, "Indeed, the Lord is in this place, and I did not know." He stands the stone used for a pillow upright, pours oil over it, and uses it to mark the holy place, calling it Bethel, the house of God.

I am often like Jacob.  Read More 

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

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


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

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

As I read this passage today, I lingered over the line "I have grasped you by the hand..."  Read More 

IMAGE: Theotokos "Eleusa-Kiska" by Simon Ushakov 1668

The shepherds hurried away to Bethlehem and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. When they saw the child they repeated what they had been told about him, and everyone who heard it was astonished at what the shepherds had to say. As for Mary, she treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds went back glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen; it was exactly as they had been told. Lk 2, 16-20

On this feast of Mary, Mother of God, I imagine Mary pondering not only the birth of Jesus and what immediately followed, but also the countless mysteries of her life. This icon conveys closeness and warmth between Mary and her son. Both appear to look beyond what is immediately visible to some deeper reality. Perhaps what they see is Love, God's desire for intimacy with us. The ability to perceive such grace comes from their relationship. Read More 

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN


Praise the Lord!
O give thanks for the Lord, for he is good;
for his steadfast love endures forever.
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting.
And let all the people say, “Amen.”
Praise the Lord!
P 106, 1; 48



Today’s Psalm begins and ends with praise, but in between is a long list of Israel’s unfaithfulness and sin. From grumbling in Egypt to worshipping a golden calf to adopting the gods and rituals of the pagans, God’s people forgot the Holy One’s work in their lives and in the lives of their ancestors. They forgot who they were: God's own people. Forgetting who we are is easy to do: Our lives are busy and stressful; our country and the world struggle with injustices, hatred, and violence. Without roots sunk deep into the history of God and our ancestors, we do not see the Sacred in our midst; we do not remember that we are glorious children of God.

Jesus tells those who will listen that they do not see what is in front of them. John the Baptist gave testimony to the One who was to follow him, and his testimony was true. “He was a burning and shining lamp, and you were willing to rejoice for a while in his light. But I have a testimony greater than John’s” (Jn 5, 35-36). Jesus was doing the work he was sent to do, and while those works were testimony to his divinity, many were unable to recognize it.

We need to be still, remember, and know that God is with us as God has always been, offering forgiveness and love because we are children of the Holy One. When we do remember who we are, our works will be testimony to the greatness of this Loving Presence and will be joined to Jesus’ life work of transforming the world.
© 2010 Mary van Balen Read More 

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.  Read More 

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? Read More 

LINK: Text of President Obama's State of the Union Address

PHOTO: CHARLES DHARAPAK/ ASSOCIATED PRESS
Two phrases from President Obama’s State of the Union address remain with me this morning. One is “a deficit of trust.” He was talking about American’s lack of trust in their government and the lack of trust between our political parties. It makes working together impossible. No compromise, no legislation, no progress. The status quo reigns when those responsible for leadership and change don’t believe that others share their vision and genuinely want what is best not for their re-election but for the country.

The second phrase came early in the speech when Mr. Obama recalled times of uncertainty of the very existence of the United States. It was not predetermined or destined to be. “We chose to move forward as one people,” Mr. Obama said. As a people we must chose to move into the future, but there is no movement without trust.

Implications of the national deficit of trust are clear: No movement. No change. The poor, uninsured, and unemployed will continue to live in fear of illness or accident. They will wake up worried about basic food and shelter. Jobs that do not provide living wages will continue to look better than no job at all, a reality many stare in the face everyday.

This morning I am thinking also of effects of a “trust deficit” in situations other than the current impasse in the US government. Lack of trust effects relationships between countries making fear mongering easier and isolation attractive. Combating ignorance and the fear that fuels prejudice and violence is impossible when one feels threatened by the other.

Employees generally are not as productive as they might be when suspicious supervisors and managers monitor their every move expecting the worst. When enthusiasm for the company’s work is lost and everyone looks out for personal advancement at the expense of others, morale plummets.

Relationships crumble without trust. Marriages fail when the partners no longer believe that the other has the best interest of both at heart, but focuses on himself or herself instead. Friendships wither when not watered by trust.

And what of the most personal form of trust: trust in God-With-Us? In the wake of Haiti’s devastating earthquake, I have heard people question the existence of God: “It makes belief in a benevolent God hard to hold on to,” one person said. The age-old question of God and suffering resurfaces whenever a natural disaster occurs. Tragedies in our personal lives can elicit similar responses: serious illness or death of a loved one, loss of job, betrayal, or shattered relationships.

How does one continue to trust when the evidence seems to indicate otherwise?  Read More 

Happy Thanksgiving! When Abraham Lincoln first declared Thanksgiving a national holiday in 1863, it served as a means of healing the divisions that existed in the country as well as a time set aside to thank God for the many gifts each one knew in his or her life. The holiday is one of my favorites having escaped the gross commercialism and consumerism that engulfs Christmas. Thanksgiving remains a time to share a meal with family and friends and to recognize the good that graces us. It is also a time to pray for the world and those who are suffering in it.

In the midst of busy lives that take us in different geographic directions, my daughters and I enjoyed dinner and conversation last night. We spent today with my father, polishing off a pie for breakfast, watching the parade, and eating a turkey dinner. Later, joined by a good friend, we played cards and "Apples to Apples," laughing until we could barely catch our breath. It felt good.

The future is an unknown; at the moment it includes graduate school for my daughters, maybe for me. Decisions loom ahead. But today, I am savoring rootedness. I am sitting in the living room where I spent twenty-some years celebrating holidays with my family. I am working in the kitchen where I baked pies and basted turkeys with my mother and her mother.

In this house I celebrated God with Us first in the love of family and then with friends, in holydays, and in sacrament. This big, old house is a good place to be as I discern direction for my future. My daughters and I will soak up the security of rootedness, of a place where we are embraced and loved unconditionally, and then we will resume our journeys confident of the love that gives wings as well as roots. Read More