Mary van Balen

DIAGRAM: SKY & TELESCOPE
At 10:30pm, having closed our register, covered the display cases, and deposited our cash envelopes, three of us walked out of the store into fresh air. A brilliant spot of light hung on the night's black sky, looking not unlike the large cubic zirconium stone in a necklace I sold to a young bride-to-be a few hours earlier. One woman waved goodbye and headed for her car. Diana and I stood for a moment, mesmerized by the sight.

"It's Venus," I said in hushed tones reserved for moments of overwhelming glory. Read More 

PHOTO: NASA, ESA and the HUBBLE HERITAGE TEAM Cosmic Question Mark


Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you…Which one of you would hand his son a stone when he asks for a loaf of bread, or a snake when he asks for a fish? If you the, who are wicked, know how to give good things to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good things to those who ask?”
Mt 7, 7; 9-11


Tonight I joined my parish for a soup supper and shared thoughts on Lectio Divina with them. As I talked about finding a “word” in Scripture, a passage that moves the prayer’s heart in some way, I warned that not all “words” given in Lectio warm the heart. “ Some words will be challenging. Some make you uncomfortable, even angry. Some are mysterious and confusing.”

Today’s reading from Matthew falls into that last category for me. How many times have we “knocked” and been left outside, alone?  Read More 

PHOTO: NASA
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the sky proclaims its builder's craft.
One day to the next conveys that message;
one night to the next imparts that knowledge.
There is no word or sound,
no voice is heard;
Yet their report goes forth through all the earth,
There message, to the ends of the world.
Psalm 19, 2-5

What profound beauty fills the cosmos. We are blessed to "see" some of it with the help of scientists, astronauts, and engineers. The Hubble Telescope sends back exquisite photographs of a universe still in process. God's creation continues and we are granted a look deep into its past.

What wonders quietly unfold at every moment? How often am I aware of them? How often do I gaze into the night sky or wake to the glory of morning light? Such constant miracles: our planet, the furthest reaches of space, the subatomic world! Without a sound they proclaim God's glory and generous love.

I will take time to stand still and rejoice in the mystery of it. I join my song to the silent song of the cosmos and give thanks.
© 2010 Mary van Balen
PHOTO: NASA  Read More 

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN -MOON,VENUS, JUPITER OVER COLLEGEVILLE INSTITUTE

After writing about the Kepler Mission, I remembered an article my Trappist friend, Fr. Maurice Flood, sent to me years ago. It was from the July 1994 issue of Sky & Telescope and told the story of Trappist sisters at Santa Rita Abbey in Arizona who shared the love of contemplating the night sky. One in particular, Sr. Sherly Chen, a graduate of Yale, shared her thoughts with author David H. Levy.

Levy was struck by the connections between science and religion as he listened to the sisters, experienced their prayer, and gazed with them at the clear night sky. I remembered that Chen had shared a poem she had written after considering the distance starlight had to travel to be seen by her that night. I found the article and poem in my old office:

Light

which left the Pleiades
2,000 years ago
arrived just when
a Mayan's eye
peered upwards
through the stone shaft
of the Temple of the Jaguar Sun.

Other rays

began their earthward Journey
before I even existed
to meet my eye
in the expanse of desert sky
after Vigils.

Grace

sets out from God
before I need it
rushes light-years toward me
meets me at the very moment I fall.

When it arrives
I am there.

 Read More 

PHOTO: NASA - KEPLER FIELD OF VIEW

Last Thursday I noticed a news release about NASA’s Kepler Mission that is searching a small part of our galaxy to locate planets orbiting its star in a “habitable zone,” planets that could be capable of supporting life. We are looking for extraterrestrials.

As one who has long hoped that intelligent life exists on other planets and that connection with ET’s would happen in my lifetime, the article was intriguing. I am a Star Trek fan and enjoy watching science fiction movies and reading books that deal with “encounters of the third kind.” For reasons unknown, I imagine ET’s as peaceful, intelligent creatures who would have something to teach our warring, violent race.

Such images have been fed not only by movies, but also by a couple of my favorite authors: Madeleine L’Engle and C. S. Lewis. In L’Engle’s groundbreaking novel, “A Wrinkle in Time,” Charles Wallace and Meg Murray and their friend Calvin rescued Mr. Murray from a horrible planet, Camazotz, and traveled to different planets by “tessering” or moving along wrinkles in the time/space continuum.

Once, Meg, Calvin, and Mr. Murray found themselves on a strange planet where the inhabitants were beasts covered with soft fur and who had long tentacles instead of eyes or a mouth. Despite their differences, the earthlings and beasts were able to communicate. The beasts healed Meg who arrived frozen from her travel and revealed that they, too, were fighting the blackness that was in control of Camazotz and threatened the universe. I loved reading that chapter out loud to my fourth grade students, and we fell in love with the beats who had no eyes but who knew more than their human guests with the sense of sight.

The Narnia Chronicles, a seven volume fantasy written in the 1950’s by C. S. Lewis, features four English children, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy who wander into the world of Narnia through the back of an old wardrobe fashioned from wood of a magic tree. Aslan the lion is the central character in all seven volumes, the creator and ruler of Narnia, a divine presence.

In “The Magician’s Nephew,” still pools in the “wood between the worlds” are portals through which characters are transported to different worlds. As I read and re-read this book, images of meeting creatures from places utterly foreign to my own played in my mind.

At the end of “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader,” when Aslan tells Lucy and Edmund they are too old to return to Narnia and must become more involved in their own world, Lucy cries at the thought of not being with Aslan again: "It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"

"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan.

"Are -- are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.

"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name.”


"How many names does God have?" I wonder while contemplating the thought that somewhere in the universe, other creatures have been made to have a relationship with the Holy One, the Creator, the One we cannot limit by our imaginations. The One whose love is so great that it cannot be poured out only to human beings, but could well fashion others to share in the joy of receiving the infinite desire of God to give God’s self away.

How could such a belief or hope threaten faith? The news release, written Jan 7, 2010 by Seth Borenstein of the Associated Press, mentioned Rev. Jose Funes, the Jesuit director of the Vatican Observatory, commenting on the annual American Astronomical Society conference last week: “These are big questions that reflect upon the meaning of the human race in the universe.”

In a May 14, 2008 interview published in L’OSSERVATORE ROMANO, responding to a question about whether belief in extraterrestrials would create problem for faith, Funes said, “I believe no. As a multiplicity of creatures exist on earth, so there could be other beings, also intelligent, created by God. This does not contrast with our faith because we cannot put limits on the creative freedom of God. To say it with Saint Francis, if we consider earthly creatures as “brother” and “sister,” why cannot we also speak of an “extraterrestrial brother?” It would therefore be a part of creation.”

I am in good company and wish the Kepler Mission Godspeed and good luck!

PHOTO: NASA - April 16, 2009, STAR CLUSTER NGC 6791 FROM KEPLER FIRST LIGHT IMAGE  Read More 

IMAGE: ADORATION OF THE MAGI by Giotto

One Epiphany long ago my mother smiled when I asked her, "Where's the other Wise Guy?" and replied that he had been lost during our recent move. As I played with the camels, sheep and two mysterious "kings," I hoped the third one had found a new home, someplace warm to spend Christmas. Imagine, following a star to find baby Jesus, a baby whose birth was acknowledged by the forces in the far flung universe.

Later, I learned that Matthew's gospel (the only one that mentions the magi) was short on details and what I learned as a child was as much legend as anything else. No Matter. Three astrologers searching through Hebrew Scriptures looking for an explanation for an amazing cosmological event still captures my imagination. Even the Pope today used them as an metaphor for the compatibility of science and faith.

The Epiphany is celebrated in Christian churches as the first time Jesus was revealed to the wide world beyond Bethlehem and Judaism. The wise men represent all the rest of humanity at the manger, foreshadowing the reality that took the disciples and perhaps even Jesus some time to figure out: God's love is for all people. We are all children of the Most High.

Today, as I drove to the doctor's office for a check-up, I paid particular attention to people who were out on the cold, snowy morning: A father at a bus stop, a modern shepherd with his flock of four children, one in a stroller, carefully bundled against the wind; a man wearing a black stocking cap pulled low over his ears, his hands shoved into his pockets to stay warm; a young woman munching an apple for breakfast, a backpack slung over her shoulder, waiting for a ride to campus; people driving cars I passed or that passed by me on the freeway.

I tried to look with wise men's eyes, seeing God's beloved braving the elements to be about the work of their daily lives. "Each one," I told myself, "holds some bit of God in their hearts." Like the wise men, I should honor them, for who they are, for the Divinity that enlivens them from within.I should offer my gifts, as simple as they are, joining in the effort to bring the world a little closer to the Kingdom ushered in by a baby.

"Where's the other Wise Guy?" She is here. He is each one of us.  Read More 

Finally, we have snow. Though wet and only two inches deep, it is white and beautiful. Christmas was all rain, and I admit to envying my Minnesota friends’ two feet of powder, view across the lake, and Mass in the Abbey Church. After exchanging Christmas greetings over the phone, I hung up and switched my computer wallpaper to last winter's photo taken out the apartment’s back window. Blue tree shadows fell across the snow-covered lake and patio; January at the Institute was breathtaking.

This year I was in Ann Arbor for the holidays. I did not have the view and was careful as I stepped over water flowing beside the curb when getting in and out of the car, but I had my three daughters, a good friend, and time: Better than snow.

We ate homemade oxtail vegetable soup and snacked on imported cheeses and crackers washed down with spiced red wine. The apartment was crowded; one daughter had to excuse herself a few times to complete marking final papers and posting grades. Another daughter had switched to her “break” schedule: up until early morning, asleep until early afternoon, but we had a good time playing Apples to Apples and catching up.

Most gifts were simple this year, many were practical with a few surprises thrown in. One of mine was unexpected and extraordinary: A hand-thrown mug from The Soft Earth’s potter, Joan Lederman. The form is beautiful and organic, but what makes it unique is the glaze. Joan uses core samples of the ocean floor taken by scientists at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute. When they have finished with the sediment, it is given to Joan who uses it for her glazes.

On my Christmas mug, the words “Deep Down, Far Out, Earth Crust, Space Dust” encircle the bottom, written on bare clay. The predominant glaze color is deep brown, resulting from sediment from The Kane Fracture Zone, rich in manganese, peridotite, serpentine, basalt, and olivine gabbro. A small band of lighter brown divides the glaze about one third of the way down the mug. This strip of glaze is what merits the words “Far Out…Space Dust.”

In a core sample taken at the K-Trace Boundary, scientists found a small deposit of 65 million year old remains of an asteroid, truly star dust. Was this left from asteroids that collided with the earth raising enough dust to block sunlight and lead to mass extinctions of plants and animals, including the dinosaurs?

In response to the sudden death of a pioneering geologist, Joan offered to make a piece to celebrate his life. She was given sediment from his work discovering the first core that demonstrated the iridium anomaly from the K-T Band. Later she came to appreciate it alongside samples from drillings into Earth’s crust – these became the “earth crust & space dust” pieces. When I first found them on the Internet, I emailed my archeologist daughter to share the amazing find. As a young child, she had been interested in dinosaurs, once taking a survey at a local mall to determine what most people thought caused the extinction of dinosaurs. An Asteroid strike was among the choices.

Knowing my spiritual response to all things “cosmic,” she and her younger sister decided to purchase one of Joan Lederman's last two “Space Dust” mugs for me. Now, when I drink my tea in the morning, I will be cradling earth crust and stardust in my hands, contemplating the glory of the universe and my small place in it.

Visit The Soft Earth website: http://www.thesoftearth.com/

 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 

LINK A great article about Abraham Lincoln and the Leonid Shower. A MUST READ from November 1999 issue of Sky and Telescope "Astronomy Magazine article on this years Leonid Meteor Shower" "How Stuff Works" explains meteors and the Leonids>

Picture that accompanies "Sky and Telescope" article on Abraham Lincoln and the Leonids, November 1999.

This year's Leonid meteor shower might be spectacular. The moon will be new so not much interference there. The Leonids peak in predawn sky Nov. 16 into 17. I will call my friend and hope we can sit atop her grassy roof once again to enjoy the show! Click on the link about Abraham Lincoln and the Leonid Shower. It is a wonderful story, and as a sideline, shows what treasures have been preserved because people wrote letters.  Read More 

LINKS Sky and Telescope: The magazine's sky observation news Spaceweather: Information on all types of "sky events"


Photo: Pierre Martin, Ottawa, Canada


After having a birthday dinner with my sister and brother-in-law, I drove out of town to spend the night with a friend who lives in the country. She has an unusual home built of concrete and partially covered by a grassy mound of earth that forms part of the roof. That is where we would spend the night: meteor watching.

The Orionid meteor shower is the result of the earth moving through the tail of Halley’s Comet. This year the show coincided with a cloudless autumn night and Melanie and I were going to enjoy it.

She made some popcorn and I opened a bottle of wine to share. We talked until 12:30am came around, and when it did, we walked upstairs and out the double doors that led onto the roof. The sky was magnificent. Even without meteors, the sight was breathtaking. The absence of light from a big city enabled us to enjoy tiny bits of light that covered the sky like luminous dust, a backdrop for familiar constellations. We sat in silence, our necks bent back against the cold aluminum frames of the lawn chairs, waiting.

“I think we might be a little early,” I said after a half-hour had passed. Some clouds were beginning to move in.

“Why don’t we go to bed for a few hours and get up around 4:30?” Melanie suggested.

We did, and when the alarm rang I slowly pulled myself out of bed, put on a jacket and hat Melanie had laid out for me and walked back out on the roof. She was already there, and her dog, Maddie, resting at her feet, looked up at me with eyes that seemed to say, “What are you two doing on the roof at 5am?”

I settled into the chair and Melanie handed me a blanket.

“I love these big old wool blankets.”

So do I. Unlike newer synthetic ones, their weight as well as their warmth is a comfort. I looked at the sky. Orion had moved and was standing straight, looking as if he were guarding the house. I smiled. Orion was my friend, the one I looked for when I went to bed late or got up on a sleepless night. No matter where I was, he was there, a nighttime companion.

Only a few minutes passed before we saw our first meteor, streaking across the sky from Orion’s direction. They came every few minutes. I thought about the grassy roof under my feet and the small planet that held us. We were a speck, hurtling through space and pushing our way through the dust and debris of a comet’s tail. I pulled the blanket tighter.

“It’s colder out here,” Melanie said.

I looked up. Not a cloud in sight. We marveled at the difference clouds make, holding heat closer to our planet.

Eventually more time passed between meteor sightings. We were colder. Unwrapping our blankets and folding up the chairs we made our way back into the house. Melanie brewed hot tea and served toast slathered with jam she had made from berries that grew wild on her property. We shared a pear picked from a tree in her yard.

Earth. Sky. Friendship. Bountiful Presence. It was more grace than I could hold.  Read More