Mary van Balen

On today's Universalis site, after a two saints listed for remembrance, Blessed John Henry Newman shows up. (I mentioned him in my May 2 blogpost The Vatican, Nuns, and John Henry Newmanas a champion of lay persons' call and ability to be bearers of truth and prophetic speakers of truth to power.)



Today, I remember his poetry and writings. One has long been a favorite:
"Dear Jesus, help me to spread your fragrance everywhere I go.
Flood my soul with your spirit and life.
Penetrate my being so that all my life
may only be a radiance of you.

Shine through me, and so be in me
that every person I come in contact with
may feel your presence in my soul.
Let them look and see no longer me,
but only Jesus.

Stay with me, and then I shall begin to shine as you shine,
so to be a light to others.The light, O Jesus, will be all from you;
none of it will be mine.
It will be you shining on others through me.

Let me thus praise you in the way you love best,
by shining on those around me."

The other speaks to my frustration today with where I am, making a living, and striving to remain faithful to the call to write and share what small light entrusted to me:
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(Originally published in the Catholic Times, July 12, 2012 © 2012 Mary van Balen)

Wednesday, July 11 was the feast of Saint Benedict of Nursia. Before his birth in 480, the Roman Empire was crumbling and various barbarian tribes had invaded Italy. Benedict studied in Rome during a peaceful interlude, but paganism and deteriorating conditions of the city were too much for the young man who left the city and lived as a hermit for a while in Subiaco. His holiness attracted others and eventually, he consented to become an abbot for a group of monks.

This first experiment did not end well; the monks tried to poison him! But later, Benedict did shepherd a number of small monastic communities, eventually founding the monastery of Monte Cassino. Benedict is most famous for his Rule that guided the lives of the monks. He called it a rule for beginners, but it has become the foundation for most monastic rules in the West.

I have had the opportunity to live near one of the largest Benedictine Abbey’s in the country and spent time joining the monks in Liturgy of the Hours as well as Mass. Benedictine hospitality wraps around visitors and draws us in. After a few days, one becomes accustomed to the slow cadence of praying the Psalms, pausing at the end of each line regardless of punctuation, allowing God to slip into the hiatus.

I took time this morning to reread the Rule. Written so long ago, parts are no longer applicable, but for anyone desiring to grow closer to God, Benedict offers wisdom and guidance. In the Prologue, Benedict uses Scripture (He does so throughout as did Francis in his Rule.) to assure us of God’s desire for us, God’s loving Presence, and the Spirit’s voice speaking to all “…that have ears to hear.” Famously, Benedict’s Rule stresses moderation and flexibility. He aims to “…set down nothing harsh, nothing burdensome…” but “…a little strictness to amend faults and safeguard love.”  Read More 

I stand on the patio behind the apartment and watch rain pour down in long lines, like strokes from a pen, shrouding everything in gray. Thunder rumbles in the background. A small chickadee, sinichka my friend from St. Petersburg called them, takes shelter in the blue spruce beside me. We are both hushed into reverential silence. I stand close to the brick house, beneath the overhang. Together, sinichka and I feel the wind and watch it play across the water, patches of light blooming and then, just as quickly, dissoloving back into dark as the wind changes its mind and churns up brightness somewhere else on the lake. Sometimes the light races across the surface, hanging on to the wind, but can't keep up and lets go, falling back into smooth green water.

We wait, sinichka and I. I'm not sure what she waits for. I suspect that once the heavy rain turns into a gentle summer shower, she will fly off in search of food, calling out "chick a dee dee dee" as she dips and darts away. I am waiting for Grace.  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 

"I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live, by loving the Lord, your God, heeding his voice, and holding fast to him. For that will mean life for you, a long life for you to live on the landthat the Lord swore he would give to your fathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob." Dt 30, 19-20



In today's first reading, Moses gives God's people what seems at first glance to be a simple choice:Choose life or death; choose blessing or curse. Who knowingly would choose death or curse? I don't remember where I heard or read this nugget of wisdom, but I have always remembered this thought: People choose good, or what appears to them at the moment to be the good for them. For example, sometimes when I am distraught, I choose to eat comfort food. Maybe a grilled cheese sandwich, or cookies and tea. I don't need it. It might not be good for my body, but at that moment it seems to be what I need to feel better. Concerns about weight and cholesterol don't enter my mind.

Did I choose wisely? Not really. After the sandwich is gone or the cookies have been savored with hot steamy tea, I am just as miserable as I was before. Maybe more so because that is when I remember weight and cholesterol.

Choices between blessing and curse are not as easy as Moses makes them sound. Read More 

My day off. No alarm set. Still, I rose early, before much light filtered through the blinds. I slipped into some comfortable clothes, feeling for their familiar fabric rather than turning on lights that would shatter the calm of darkness. Jeans, I knew, hung over the back of the chair by my bed. A cotton T. A sueded jacket to ward off chill.

In the kitchen, I lifted the electric kettle to feel the weight of water it held. Enough for a mug of tea. I moved a beeswax candle from my office to the dining room table and lit it. The flame jumped erratically throwing out strobe-like flashes of light. Alternating bright and dark were distracting. I blew out the candle and had a look at the wick. It needed trimmed, and once relit, burned with the steady warm glow of beeswax.

I chose a favorite, round mug made by a potter in Woods Hole on the Cape, drawing sea, salt, and friends into my morning. Just enough dawn to allow me to pour boiling water over the tea bag and stop before it overflowed.

"Honey," I thought. Usually, I drink tea black, but honey was right. Gifts of wax and sweetness from the work of thousands of industrious insects graced time to sit quietly in the Presence of the One who made them. Read More 

Sunday morning when my cell phone alarm began to ring, I fumbled with it until I found the "snooze" button. I had driven all night to return home from a family wedding reception and had set the alarm to wake me for early Mass. My legs did not want to move and neither did the rest of me, but I forced myself out of bed and made it to church a little late. I was glad I did.

"Someone once said that you need three things to have hope," our pastor said as he began his homily. "Someone to love, something to do, and something to hope in."

As I listened to his words, I thought of my life. I had been feeling discouraged. My path had not turned out as I thought it might and its direction was lost in the mist of uncertainty. Still, I had someone to love. No husband, but children, family, and friends. Yes, I am blessed with three daughters, with friends from across the country and around the world: GED students, authors, care givers, professors, and poets.

I have something to do. Read More 

Along the bank of the river I saw very many trees on both sides. Wherever the river flows,every sort of living creature that can multiply shall live,and there shall be abundant fish, for wherever this water comes the sea shall be made fresh. Along both banks of the river, fruit trees of every kind shall grow...
Ez 47,7;9

Therefore we fear not, though the earth be shaken
and mountains plunge into the depths of the sea.
R. The Lord of hosts is with us; our stronghold is the God of Jacob.
Ps 46,3



The water that feeds the river in the first reading comes from the sanctuary and restores arid land to fertility. What lives in the water and what grows on its banks will never fail. God is its source.

The responsorial psalm speaks of disasters. While the images used are meant to represent all types of calamities, verse three brought the recent earthquake and tsunami to mind.

One reading presents an idyllic picture of fecundity and peace. The other, destruction beyond imagining. What do they have in common? The Presence of God. Read More 

For thus says the Lord, the Holy One of Israel: ‘Your salvation lies in conversion and tranquility, your strength will come from complete trust.’ The Lord is waiting to be gracious to you, to rise and take pity on you, for the Lord is a just God. Happy are all who hope in him.
Noon reading (Sext) Isaiah 30:15,18

You will seek the Lord your God, and if you seek him with all your heart and with all your soul, you shall find him. In your distress, all that I have said will overtake you, but at the end of days you will return to the Lord your God and listen to his voice. For the Lord your God is a merciful God and will not desert or destroy you or forget the covenant he made on oath with your fathers.
Afternoon reading (None) Deuteronomy 4:29-31



I have written many times about struggling to grow into "complete trust," as mentioned in the readings from today's Liturgy of the Hours. As I ponder these words tonight, images of Japanese people huddled around fires and searching for food and water cycle over television news programs.

How does one find trust and tranquility in the midst of trials, whether those presented by daily life or those resulting from natural disasters? How does one maintain trust in a faithful God, always present, eager to be gracious? Read More 

In the morning let me know your love, O Lord.
Lord, listen to my prayer:
in your faithfulness turn your ear to my pleading;
in your justice, hear me...
The enemy has hounded my spirit...
So my spirit trembles within me,
my heart turns to stone.
I remind myself of the days of old,
I reflect on all your works,
I meditate once more on the work of your hands...

Show me your mercy at daybreak,
because of my trust in you.
In the morning let me know your love...
Psalm 142 (143) from Morning Prayer

I am not a morning person. Ask anyone who has lived with me or even spent a few days in my house. I meet the morning with glazed eyes and when possible, a long time laying in bed working up to engaging in the day.

One of the problems I encounter in the early morning hours is battling worries and thoughts that come whooshing in, unbidden, filling an empty mind like air rushing into an open vacuum.
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