Mary van Balen

CLAY NATIVITY SCENE: GENEVA HARDING VAN BALEN; PHOTOS: MARY VAN BALEN

Leaning back in my chair, I smiled, ready to concentrate on Christmas. I sent out some fee-lance magazine articles yesterday; now my students' final grades were posted. I had spent the past couple of days reading papers on "Sacrament" and realized that the assignment was appropriate to the season that celebrates the Incarnation.

Besides looking at the seven ritual sacraments of the Catholic Church, our class explored the broader understanding of sacrament as a visible or physical sign that points to something beyond itself, which in our case, was to God. Karl Rhaner said that all grace is mediated through the material things of the world, and many of the students' papers illustrated that fact.

A number of students wrote about people, particularly family members, who had been a "sacrament" to them. A parent's unwavering support during life's upheavals helped more than one student become aware of God's constant presence. Others experienced God's mercy through forgiveness received from a spouse or friend. For some, a friend who faced serious illness or unemployment with peace, borne of deep faith, inspired them to reconnect with God in their own lives. Nature, sport, music, and art all made appearances in the papers.

Learning that Jesus is the primordial sacrament, the Sacrament from which all others flow, was exciting for some students and is what we celebrate at Christmas. In order to communicate infinite love and desire for unity with creation and human beings, God needed to “speak our language.” We are part of a material world and God became part of it. If Jesus had not become one of us, we would never have “heard” the fullness of God’s voice or known the fullness of Divine Presence.

Fr. Michael Himes of Boston University expounded on these ideas and explained grace as “Love outside the Trinity.” God is already a relationship of persons but desired to draw us into that “family circle.” Jesus is our invitation, our means of arriving there, our Sacrament.


I am finally ready to concentrate on the season. As much fun as shopping can be, the activity easily becomes overwhelming, and we think less about appreciating family and friends and more about beating someone to the checkout line or the hours we have left to go. The best way is most likely not hurrying from store to store, but taking some time to reflect on how God’s grace is mediated to us through people and places, through talents shared and time enjoyed. We can read Scripture and reflect on the amazing story of a young woman who was open to the most intimate experience of God’s mediated Grace: Jesus, God/man, growing in her womb.  Read More 

PHOTOS: from ASTRONOMY - SKY MAP: ASTRONOMY, ROEN KELLY

The last meteor shower of the year is visible late this Sunday, Dec 13 into early Monday morning. Optimum viewing time is midnight EST. The new moon will not offer any interference, so if the sky is clear, step out, look up (Gemini is the source of the shower, just left of Orion), and enjoy.

These showers remind me of my small place in creation and the glorious cosmos of which I see only an infinitesimal speck. As Christmas approaches, looking to the night sky seems somehow appropriate. Wise men from the east followed wonders in the night sky to find the child, Jesus.

Perhaps, gazing into the depths of the universe will lead us to ponder the wonder of the incarnation and Maker who came to reveal our capacity for sharing in Divine glory.  Read More 

Photos: NASA
"…Letting go of things we thought we could not live without…” The words crashed into my heart with such force that I glanced around to see if anyone else felt the tremor. All eyes were on the speaker; I jotted the words in my ever-present notebook and settled back to hear more.

Jay Jackson, a colleague and friend, was presenting his final paper, “Kenotic Aging: Life Discovered in Letting Go,” before receiving his Master of Arts in Theology degree next week. Kenosis is ancient Greek for “emptying” and is used in Christian theology to speak both of Jesus’ incarnation, emptying himself “…taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.” (Phil 2.7), and our personal self-emptying that allows God to fill us with Divine Self.

Theological discussions can sound technical and far removed from everyday life, but Jay took Kenosis and brought it home: Self-emptying is letting go. This Christmas, my first not part of a couple, I am particularly aware of letting go. I won’t be arranging gifts under the Christmas tree at 2 am. Instead, I will drive a few hours to spend Christmas with my daughters at one of their apartments. Holiday preparations are minimal. Instead I am studying for the GRE, filling out applications, and finishing a freelance writing job.

Rather than allowing myself to become nostalgic and focus on what is not happening this Christmas, I am becoming aware of the upside of letting go: openness to new life and new opportunities. As Jay pointed out in his presentation, emptying oneself of some things opens one up to receive others. While that sounds exciting, living it out is not easy. Accepting new life and embracing new opportunities requires waiting, facing unknowns, and trusting that what eventually fills up the emptied places will be life giving.

Christmas invites me to trust. The Maker of All Things, Jesus Christ, became a vulnerable human infant, trusting Mary and Joseph to protect and care for him, to nurture him as he grew. Undoubtedly, he had to empty himself of human concerns and fears to be filled with Spirit and Love that enabled him to trust completely as he walked his adult path, embracing even death.
Jesus showed us what a human life filled with God’s Self looks like.

Sometimes, life does the emptying: Jobs are lost; loved ones die; accident, illness or age diminish vitality. Even before birth, emptying is built into our genes “programming” the basic physical and mental selves we begin with. “Letting go” can be accepting with grace what has been taken from us, not filling the space with bitterness and anger. Sometimes, the emptying is intentional, and we choose to let go of things in our lives.

I am reminded of a few lines of favorite poem by Sir Thomas Browne:

If thou could'st empty all thyself of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf,
And say, "This is not dead,"
And fill thee with Himself instead.

Kenosis is not a self- loathing type of emptying; instead, it frees us up to be our best selves. God created each of us, a unique and beautiful reflection of Divinity. As we move through life, that self is hurt, distorted, crowded out by life’s busyness and demands. Kenosis is an invitation to let go of everything that is not us, and let the bit of God we have been given to shine on the world fill us again.  Read More 

HOMEMADE SNOWFLAKE: DR. MARGARET COOK; PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN


Being unemployed will affect many this holiday season, and while I have a part-time job that will end in a couple of weeks, I put myself in that category. I lingered at the Christmas card display at Half Price Books last night, thinking I might find something to send to a few friends, but decided even reduced prices were more than I could pay. Instead, I decided to make the greetings sent this year. Memories of homemade cards made years ago made me smile.

The first card I made as a young adult was complicated and, as a result, few were sent. I wrote a short story, typed up the pages, illustrated them with watercolors, and sewed them into blank red deckle-edged card stock purchased at a college bookstore.

Then there were the linoleum block printed ones with white pine trees on brown paper. I wrote an original poem inside each one (This was long before computers made printing them out fast and easy). They were so labor intensive that the last ones were sent out in July with a caveat: "Christmas is Everyday."

More recently, I have made copies of my December column on green paper and sent it to those who do not subscribe to the Catholic Times.

"Maybe I will do that again," I thought as I moved toward the bookstore door and headed out to the car. It might work for a few friends, but most can easily access my columns online.

I remembered a card I received from Madeleine L'Engle one year. Reading one of her Crosswick's Journals had inspired me to send her a box (A "Mary K. box" my children said.) filled with things I thought she would enjoy: A crystal growing kit, a homemade book introducing myself and my children, a shell from a favorite Cape Cod beach, some columns, and of course, a letter.)

She surprised me with a wonderful letter, a Christmas card poem, and her newsletter. Her card was simple: Hand lettered poem and line drawing copied on the lovely blue paper that office stores sell: between pale and neon.

"Maybe I will write a poem."

It would have to be short. Between grading papers, filling out grad school and job applications, studying for the GRE, and writing magazine articles I don't have lots of time to write poetry.

"Maybe a reflection from my "Lectio Divina."

The more I thought about the project, the more ideas materialized. That is the joy of homemade: I was taking time to entertain ideas, think of my friends and what I could offer them from my life at the moment. No matter what I decide or how late the cards are sent, the recipients will know a bit more about my heart and my experience of the Incarnation season than they would have if one of the boxes of cards had proved irresistible. And, in the making, so will I. Read More