Mary van Balen

Originally published in the Catholic Times March 10 2013 vol. 62:22



The fourth Sunday of Lent already? Impossible. I'm not where I thought I'd be. Spiritually speaking, that is. Each year I think it will different. I'll be more disciplined when it comes to food. Each morning will start quietly with undisturbed time for prayer. I won't succumb to temptations of playing Free Cell or Sudoku on my iPad.

This year I thought I had more attainable goals. In fact, I had but one: give myself "soul time." Time for my spirit to breathe and, as an old African story goes, catch up with my body. This goal seemed reasonably attainable four weeks ago. I have been forced to admit that some behaviors have a stronger hold on me that I thought.

For example, living alone, by nightfall I am often ready for some human "noise" in the house. I turn on the television, tune Netflix to reruns or maybe a less than riveting movie, turn away from the screen and drift to sleep, listening.

A perfect time for " soul room" I told myself on Ash Wednesday. Read More 

Conversion is not viewed as an act of turning away from this or that sin toward this or that virtue. True conversion is never so neatly defined or cleanly accomplished. Conversion involves the gradual reshaping of consciousness to the point that the "convert" begins to view life in a radically new way. It is not something a person DECIDES to do, as though it were in our power to do so. We are led through conversion by the gracious Lord who alone has the power to reshape our consciousness, and who must do so in the face of deep resistance. In the ways the the spirit, it is the Lord and not ourselves who determines that from which we must be purified, and this is usually the source of our greatest resistance.
Peter Fink, S.J.



A friend sent this quote to me saying, "...it always speaks to me about the hidden ways God is doing what only God can do in us--and we're not aware of it at all. In fact, we often believe just the opposite."


Both the quote and my friend's words speak to me this Lent. I have chosen a couple disciplines this Lent focusing not on "giving up" as much as "giving time." Forgoing some activities that devour more time than intended in order to do something more life-giving. I am giving myself "soul room" by clearing out some clutter.

While I think that is a good thing, and intend to stick with it, I am reminded by Peter Fink and my friend, Luisa, that God may be working somewhere else in my life to slowly radicalize my way of seeing and living.

I like thinking of the hiddenness of God's hand. Awareness that anything and everything can be a moment of transformation helps me reverence the people and events of my day.

Giving thanks for all of it, the annoying, mundane parts, the work, the suffering that I would wish away if I could, makes sense looking at God's work this way. Who knows.

I guess that's the point. God knows. Not me.



 Read More 

Even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart, with fasting, and weeping, and mourning; Rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the Lord, your God. For gracious and merciful is he, slow to anger, rich in kindness, and relenting in punishment. Perhaps he will again relent and leave behind him a blessing...
Joel 2, 12-14a



Ash Wednesday, and I did it all. Fasting. Weeping. Mourning. Rending heart. Well, most of it. The "return to the Lord, your God" is in process.

My day started out at the doctors office. 7:30 am. That alone is mortification. The early appointment was to insure I would not be late for work. I left too sore to go to work. Stopped by my local church hoping for Mass and ashes. Too late. Drove to another church. Just a little late. Stayed through ashes and Eucharist.

I came home, had toast with a smear of low fat cream cheese (ever notice how low fat cheese kind of shines, plastic-like? Not good.) and sat at my computer to work on revising, yet again, my book proposal. Read More 

Yesterday I walked a couple of blocks to the local parish's Lenten fish fry. My sister had recommended it saying the fish was good and the people friendly. My refrigerator was empty and enjoying at least one Lenten fish fry sounded like a good idea.

On my way to the stone church hall, I passed patches of bluets splattered beneath huge trees hung with swelling buds. A close look at harshly trimmed shrubbery growing along stuccoed walls that separated high priced condos from the ordinary sidewalk revealed honeysuckle in bloom. Brave, those flowers, or naive: What of a sudden burst of winter? We have had them before, in April. Winter, denied, shows up for one final display reminding us it can come if it wants to. As I walked, scents of spring filled the air, mingled with birdsong, and I hoped winter would stay where it has hidden these past few months and save its bluster for next year.

The line at the parish hall was long...out the door, donw the entrance steps and into the parking lot. I stood behind a couple who were chatting with friends who had already eaten their fill. Children played at movie making in an area behind the rectory garage: "Take two!," one shouted at the others, and a young girl posed, looking like she was preparing to sing.

I looked at the sweatshirt of the man in front of me. It was green and emblazoned with an unfamiliar crest: A beaver, old books, and a scrolled banner that read:Rerum cognoscere causas. I studied it and pulled on five years of Latin to translate. Read More 

Seek the Lord while he is still to be found, call to him while he is still near. Let the wicked man abandon his way, the evil man his thoughts. Let him turn back to the Lord who will take pity on him, to our God who is rich in forgiving.
Mid-morning reading (Terce) Isaiah 55:6-7 © Universalis


Yesterday while at work, I caught a bit of television coverage of the continuing massacre in Syria. The video was heart wrenching: bodies of children, of families, huddled in death against blood-stained living room walls. I offered a prayer as I entered our fitting rooms to clean them out. On the other side of our department, I again checked on fitting rooms. The television there broadcast a different channel. This one showed a young woman, ecstatic over her game show winnings. People were cheering and the game show host was pleasant as ever.

I couldn't shake the disquieting feeling that the juxtaposed visuals stirred in my soul. I felt slightly ill for the remainder of my shift and even on the drive home, the images stayed in my mind. Massacres have happened throughout history, but in this era of instant communication, disturbing images are flashed into our living rooms (and department stores) all day long. Bombardment with the world's horrors can numb us to their reality, mixed as they are with the mishmash of media offerings. Read More 

Like the Water-Wendell Berry

LIKE THE WATER
of a deep stream,
love is always
too much.
We did not make it.
Though we drink till we burst,
we cannot have it all,
or want it all.
In its abundance
it survives our thirst.
IN THE EVENING WE COME DOWN TO THE SHORE
to drink our fill,
and sleep,
while it flows
through the regions of the dark.
It does not hold us,
except we keep returning to its rich waters
thirsty.
WE ENTER, WILLING TO DIE,
into the commonwealth of its joy.


Thoughts of thirst, water, and joy stay with me these days. I think I am thirsty for many things, but it mostly boils down to God.

I attended Mass with a friend this morning, for the first time in a couple of weeks. It felt wonderful. The readings brought forth images of a thirsty desert people drinking water gushing forth from a rock, and a Samaritan woman entranced by her conversation with an interesting Jewish man who promised to give her living water, water that would forever quench her thirst. Naturally, she was curious.

Dry myself, I sat in the pew and let the words soak me like rain. I loved hearing about the complaining people who reminded me of myself, wondering if they had come out into the desert to die. No, no. Love would not bring them that far only to allow them to perish from lack of water. No. For the beloved, water from a rock. Read More 

Funny how a piece of mail that arrived late could be just on time. Two weeks after the beginning of Lent, a one-page reflection on a program for the season appeared in my mailbox. Sent from the Benedictine Abbey in North Dakota, Assumption Abbey, it contained exactly what I needed to jump start my already waning efforts at keeping Lent. I had begun the season with a half-hearted intention to refrain from eating candy or desserts and a more sincere plan to regularly post Lenten blogs.

The candy and desserts fast was easily broken when I had dinner at a friend's home and was served something sweet. Benedictine hospitality would see the dilemma and come down on the side of reverencing the host. Of course, after breaking the fast once, I could find lots of reasons, perhaps not so Benedictine, to indulge. There was the potluck at work to raise money for a summer food program for children. I had to taste a couple of the goodies. And then a coworker bought a Godiva raspberry filled dark chocolate bar and offered me a couple of squares. You get the picture.

I have been somewhat more successful with blog posts if I compare my success to the number of Advent posts, though they were so few that the victory is hollow. So what was my problem? Two weeks in, Lent was a bust and to be honest, I didn't mind that much.

Then Brother Alban Petesch's reflection was dropped in my mailbox.  Read More 

(Originally published in the Catholic Times, March 11, 2012 © 2012 Mary van Balen)


The gospel reading about the rich man and Lazarus is familiar to most of us. Lazarus is a poor man who lies at the door of the rich man, hoping in vain for a scrap from his table. After a life of leisure and abundance, the rich man dies and finds himself tormented in the netherworld. Lazarus also dies, but he is taken to heaven and cradled in the bosom of Abraham. I often think of this reading as a reminder of the importance of caring for the needy among us, not only those struggling to survive materially, but also those impoverished of spirit. Today, however, I am struck by another message.

Once resigned to his fate, the rich man asks that someone be sent to his brothers who still live, that they might be warned and change their ways. Abraham says that cannot be done. He reminds the rich man that his brothers have Moses and the prophets to warn them. The rich man persists, saying that if Lazarus could go to his brothers, they would surely listen to someone come back from the dead. Again, Abraham says no. Even if someone were to rise from the dead, they would not listen.

I pondered this section of the gospel and thought about where the rich man’s brothers looked for wisdom. Or did they? Read More 

I didn't know the aftermath of divorce would be so difficult, just like I didn't know my marriage would be untenable. It isn't what I miss. Surely the good that came of the marriage took root and lives. And of course there are my grown children. No, it is not the missing. It is the acceptance of who I am and where I am that is the struggle.

As the Carmelite poet, Jessica Powers writes in her poem, "To Live with the Spirit," I am learning to be a listener. Throughout my life I have tried to be a listener to the God Within, so perhaps a more accurate account of my present journey is learning to be a better listener: One who trusts, one who is more comfortable with silence.

Psalm 62, from today's Morning Prayer, comes at this same truth from another angle: "In God alone be at rest, my soul, for my hope is from her...Trust God at all times, O people. Pour out your hearts before him, for God is our refuge..." Read More 

For I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and you made me welcome; naked and you clothed me, sick and you visited me, in prison and you came to see me.” Then the virtuous will say to him in reply, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you; or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and make you welcome; naked and clothe you; sick or in prison and go to see you?” And the King will answer, “I tell you solemnly, in so far as you did this to one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it to me.” MT 25

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Recognise to whom you owe the fact that you exist, that you breathe, that you understand, that you are wise, and, above all, that you know God and hope for the kingdom of heaven and the vision of glory, now darkly as in a mirror but then with greater fullness and purity. You have been made a child of God, co-heir with Christ. Where did you get all this, and from whom?
Let me turn to what is of less importance: the visible world around us. What benefactor has enabled you to look out upon the beauty of the sky, the sun in its course, the circle of the moon, the countless number of stars, with the harmony and order that are theirs, like the music of a harp? Who has blessed you with rain, with the art of husbandry, with different kinds of food, with the arts, with houses, with laws, with states, with a life of humanity and culture, with friendship and the easy familiarity of kinship?...Brethren and friends, let us never allow ourselves to misuse what has been given us by God’s gift. If we do, we shall hear Saint Peter say: Be ashamed of yourselves for holding on to what belongs to someone else. Resolve to imitate God’s justice, and no one will be poor. Let us not labour to heap up and hoard riches while others remain in need. If we do, the prophet Amos will speak out against us with sharp and threatening words: Come now, you that say: When will the new moon be over, so that we may start selling? When will the sabbath be over, so that we may start opening our treasures?
Let us put into practice the supreme and primary law of God. He sends down rain on just and sinful alike, and causes the sun to rise on all without distinction. To all earth’s creatures he has given the broad earth, the springs, the rivers and the forests. He has given the air to the birds, and the waters to those who live in the water. He has given abundantly to all the basic needs of life, not as a private possession, not restricted by law, not divided by boundaries, but as common to all, amply and in rich measure. His gifts are not deficient in any way, because he wanted to give equality of blessing to equality of worth, and to show the abundance of his generosity. Saint Gregory Nazianzen


My daughter introduced me to the Barefoot College, an amazing place and concept. No MA's or PhD's here. No diploma's. People teaching people skills to share with their community, and not simple skills. Barefoot College "graduates" are solar engineers, architects, and dentists, to name but a few. I encourage you to click on the link and learn more about it.

Today's gospel and the reading from Morning Prayer remind us of the necessity of living not for ourselves but for others; of not hoarding wealth, but being generous as God has been generous with us. Read More