Mary van Balen

(Originally published in the Catholic Times, April 5, 2012 © 2012 Mary van Balen)



“Are you going to make some this year?” my sister asked as she looked at hot cross buns sitting off to the right in the restaurant’s generous display of pastries and muffins. She was referring to my annual baking of dozens of the Easter treats and giving them away to family, friends, and neighbors. I didn’t bake any last year. We were beginning to clean out our parents’ home, readying it for sale. I didn’t have the heart.

“I hope so,” I replied, not able to make the commitment. Dad died in September. A contract on the house is pending and I am keeping my first Lent in a new flat. I do hope so. Baking and sharing hot cross buns is as good for my spirit as I hope receiving them is for others. Besides, the world is hungry for more than bread, and the small raisin-filled rolls sealed with a white icing cross dripping over their shiny domes carry more than sweetness and calories. They are packed with promise and the baker’s humble efforts to participate in the Easter Mystery. To be bread.

In her book, “Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis,” Lauren Winner tells of a similar experience. After coming home from church on Sunday afternoons, she baked muffins and loaves of bread, and wanting to feed others as she had been fed at Mass, she left them on doorsteps around town.

It is a priest’s heart. It is God’s heart. It is the heart of Jesus living in each one of us that sees hunger and wants to feed it. That sees need and wants to meet it. That sees suffering and wants to stop it.  Read More 

So, during supper,
fully aware that the Father had put everything into his power
and that he had come from God and was returning to God,
he rose from supper and took off his outer garments.
He took a towel and tied it around his waist.
Then he poured water into a basin
and began to wash the disciples’ feet
and dry them with the towel around his waist.

I have given you a model to follow,
so that as I have done for you, you should also do.”
Jn 13, 2-5;15

Holy Thursday was a beautiful day here, sunny and cool. I spent part of it with a friend at her home in the country. We took a walk and drank in birdsong, blooms, and buds ready to unfurl. Then we shared a simple meal, breaking bread and remembering the meal Jesus shared with his followers before his death.

As we ate, the sun shimmered on a pond not far from our table. What glorious Love surrounds us in creation. That the maker of all this beauty shares Divine life and glory with us is unimaginable. That God is willing to serve, to "wash our feet," is even more so. Yet, that is what Jesus did, setting the example for all who follow him.

I watched the news this evening and reflect on the time spent with my friend, with the peace and joy that nourished my spirit as we ate together and spoke of God's loving Presence. That quiet day was a gift to me, but on the television screen, I saw a world in turmoil. People are dying in their attempts to end repressive regimes; people are suffer from too much rain and from too little. War, hatred, anger, fear are the daily fare of many.

Why do I have a day of renewal, friendship, and peace while others suffer? A mystery. A gift. But not for me alone. Those of us who have plenty are called to give much. I don't know how this looks exactly. How sufferings "even out" or if they do. Why some people are born in places of constant strife and violence and why others are not. I don't know why some have heavy burdens to carry and others seem to glide though life in a charmed way.

I don't know how my small efforts during a day make a difference to anyone, or how an act of kindness could chip away at suffering anywhere else. I cannot make sense of the big picture. Jesus knew it, as the gospel reading says. He knew who he was and what he was about, even if he didn't know all the details.

I choose to trust him, the God who washes dirty feet. I choose to believe that however I can help another, however I can serve will make some difference. I leave our Servant=God to take care of the details.

 Read More 

Photo: Gabbra Wooden Cup - Sueno Studio

He said to her, “What do you wish?” She answered him, “Command that these two sons of mine sit, one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.” Jesus said to her in reply, “You do not know what your are asking. Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” They said to him, “We can.”


When I was nine or ten, I knew I wanted to be especially close to God. That was my desire, and in my innocence and naiveté, I thought that closeness would make me special to God. I remembered that as I read today’s gospel. Unlike James and John, I wasn’t hoping for power, but like them, I didn’t understand what being close to God and doing Jesus work would mean in my life. Read More