Mary van Balen

IMAGE FROM Rhodes Jewish Museum



Blessed is the one who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners,
nor sits in the seat of scoffers.
but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,
and who meditates on God's law day and night
Psalm 1, 1-2




What comes to mind when you hear the word "law?" Traffic regulations? Tomes of legal statutes? Rules that you cannot break without suffering consequences? Laws, unless changed by legislation or edict, are static and guide individual and societal behavior.

Such definitions come quickly to a modern, western mind, but not to an ancient Hebrew one. To them, law (or Torah) was given by God not only to regulate their behavior, but also to help them become a wise people. (see Dictionary of Biblical Theology by Xavier Leon Dufour)

The Law was not static, but developed as Hebrew history unfolded. By the time the Israelites had returned from Exile and the Psalms were written, "law" was equated with "Wisdom," and to love the Law was to love God. Read More 

PHOTOS: MARY VAN BALEN
After the third snowstorm in as many weeks, I am receiving emails from friends who say, "Enough is enough!" One, who knows how much I love snowy winters, suggested I go around town, gather up the white stuff and haul it to Minnesota where I happily spent last year.

When Vancouver is getting rain while children in the usually slushy midwest are building their third or fourth snow man, I am sure climate change is at work. But for those who would will winter away, I have but one thing to say: Savor the gifts of the season.  Read More 

PHOTO: MARY VAN BALEN
My world is more chaotic than usual. I am still looking for a job, throwing my net wide. The move from one home to another is not complete, and early this week, my father was taken to the hospital. Along with my brothers and sisters, I have been spending time there, talking with doctors, holding dad's hand, and keeping other family informed. This morning I woke at 5am, overwhelmed with thoughts of preparations to bring dad home and writing tasks left undone. My agitated spirit reminded me that I had not spent time with Lectio for the past few days either.

I dressed and settled at the dining room table. The empty house was quiet and as I began to sing "Come Holy Ghost," tension began to ebb away. I opened my small black Bible and began reading slowly to find my "Word."

The Spirit hovered over the chaos.
© 2010 Mary van Balen 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 

I love teaching, even a late class after a night of no sleep. I drag myself out of bed in the morning and wonder how I will ever teach a three and a half hour evening class, but teaching energizes me, and teaching the first of eight classes on "Sacraments" to thirty-some students was exhilarating. I have written a column for over twenty years sharing my experiences in the hope of encouraging others to experience the Sacred in the midst of and through life's quotidian activities. Tonight's class allowed me to share my wonder at the reality of God's Loving Presence constantly poured out on all that is and my conviction of the importance of taking time to be mindful of it.

In many of my classes, I use videos by Fr. Michael Himes, theology professor at Boston College, to add variety to a long evening and to give my students the opportunity to hear the material from another point of view. I am never disappointed and tonight was no different.

After we explored the idea of sacrament in its broadest sense and discussed the fact that everything can be a sacrament, an opportunity of encountering God, I popped in the video on "Grace." Students listened, took notes, and nodded as something Fr. Himes said connected with something in their lives.

When the lights were back on students offered their comments. One felt affirmed in her conviction that quiet times by herself could be times of encountering the Sacred. Someone else was struck by Fr. Himes' statement that Catholic Tradition "could be called a training in becoming sacramental beholders."

"What was the Principle of Sacramentality that he talked about?" a student asked.

"That which is always and everywhere true must be noticed, accepted and celebrated somewhere, sometime," Father Himes had said. "If God is everywhere, somewhere we have to stop and notice...If God is with us at all times...we set aside sometime to notice."

"We don't meet God in the past," I said. "We don't meet God in the future. We encounter God in the present, but being present to the moment can be difficult."

"Yes," said another student. She mentioned Fr. Himes' reference to Gerard Manley Hopkins who had been walking home one evening in Wales, worried about the coming winter and grieving the end of summer. He was so preoccupied with the past and future that he was unable to appreciate the wonder of the moment. The experience gave rise to one of his most quoted lines of poetry from "Hurrahing in Harvest": "These things, these things were here and but the beholder/Wanting;"

We are called to be "beholders," to slow down and recognize Divine Presence that is everywhere and always; to "take off our shoes" because "...Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God..." as another poet, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, wrote in her poem, "Aurora Leigh."

Thorton Wilder got it right in his play, "Our Town" when the character Emily, returned from the dead to relive one day of her life, could no longer bear the exquisite beauty of every moment. She was distraught by the living who seemed to have no appreciation of the glory of life:

"Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it--every,every minute?
Stage Manager: No. (pause) The saints and poets, maybe they do some."

I read that line for the first time when I was a sophomore in high school, and resolved at that moment to become either a saint or a poet so I would not pass through life unaware of the Grace that enveloped us all.

Well, I have not become either, yet...But I try. and tonight, filled to overflowing with God's gift of self in the students, the conversation, the warmth and wisdom of Fr. Himes, the poets and people who had become part of the evening, I decided to celebrate: I stopped by the pizza shop at the end of my street, bought the best pizza in town, and shared it with my brother when I got home. It was the Sacramental Principle, after all. 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 

October has traded her blue skies and sunshine for grey clouds and rain. Driving down the highway I noticed tree limbs soaked black holding up their orange, yellow, and salmon crowns as if challenging the elements to quench the flaming foliage. It hung on with surprising strength, surrendering few leaves to the cold wind.

Colors have a depth and saturation on wet, grey days that they lack at other times. I enjoyed seeing bleached grasses and weeds running along the top of a grassy green strip and against the wire fence threaded through with remains of trumpet vine and poison ivy.

Beyond the fence in a low-lying field, a splattering of white Queen Anne’s lace blooms mingled with purple New England asters. Further in the distance red and orange sugar maples dotted nappy hills that remained predominately green.

I passed the small white shed of a roadside stand. Its eves were hung with bunches of Indian corn and bittersweet. Between the shed and farmhouse, orange pumpkins of every size lined up, shiny and wet.

Even in the rain, I love October days. Read More 

Words from "October Days" by M. van Balen
Photos: by M. van Balen The Collegeville Institute



"...FLAMING TO THE SKY..."

After a night of magnificent thunderstorms, the few dark rainclouds that remained this morning moved off to the east, and breezes blew all afternoon through sunny skies.

“Unless into darkness, where shines the light…” A line from an Easter poem I wrote years ago speaks of balance and complementarity. The beauty of yesterday’s storms made today’s cool brilliance more delicious. After a morning at church and an afternoon meandering around shops and a farmers’ market, I ended up sitting on the front porch feasting on a dinner made of my purchases: soft goat cheese slathered on a slice of fresh rosemary-garlic bread and a huge, organic tomato sprinkle with salt.

Filled to the brim…I give thanks. Read More