Mary van Balen

Yesterday was the feast of Saint Rose of Lima. The first thing listed in the Catholic encyclopedia article about Rose is "Virgin." Of course. No surprise from a church that covers up sex abuse and struggles to deal with sex and sexuality in a healthy way. I am put off right away. "What about women who are mothers?" I think. Still, second class, I guess. Countless saints, there, I am sure. Someday might "Mother" be first on the list of saintly qualifications? I move on.

Then comes the hagiography: Her infant face was seen transformed by a mystical rose...whatever that means. The list continues with constant prayer, adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, secluding herself in her room, committing to virginity, to a meatless diet (the connection to cooking vegan with my sister and sister-in-law) and eventually to eating almost nothing. All this as she struggled against the opposition of family and friends.

As many lives of saints who lived in this period, Rose is said to have practiced severe acts of mortification especially after becoming a member of the Third Order of Dominicans (Her parents refused to let her become a nun.), and worn a metal circlet studded with spikes like thorns everyday, a metal chain around her waist, and coarse clothes. She also fashioned a bed of broken glass, pot shards, and thorns. Will the holiness never end?

On the bright side, she was an artist with a needle and made lace and needlework to help support her family when they fell into hard times. And she preformed works of charity. That gets limited notice in this article.  Read More 

The homily at Mass yesterday included a reference to the pelican and the stained glass window depicting a pelican feeding her young. I first encountered this image in an old university building housing the school of theology. Intrigued by the old ceramic tile with the image of a pelican and her young, I made a rubbing of it in my journal and later asked about it.

According to legend predating Christianity, when food was scarce and starvation threatened, the mother pelican would peck at her breast and feed her chicks on her blood, saving them though perhaps dying herself. Christians used the symbol to represent Jesus Christ, who sacrificed his life for all of us.

Often the case with legends, its origin is unknown, though it may have come from the pelican's habit of pressing its bill to its breast to more completely empty its food pouch. No matter. The image is powerful and an appropriate one to use on Mother's Day, focusing as it does on the feminine face of God. This day provided me with much to ponder from divine motherhood, the joy of my daughters, and national and international issues that face women and girls around the globe.

Blessed with three daughters who each helped me celebrate the day in their unique ways, I am often reminded that God is our Mother as well as our Father.

After a wonderful, long conversation with my middle daughter, I woke on Mother's Day to find an e-card from her in my inbox, an unusual event. She had honored me with a donation in my name to the Girl Effect, an organization that addresses issues that prevent young girls from developing in a healthy way into young women who can contribute their gifts to the world. I encourage you to look at the website and view their short video.  Read More 

"Show me where it hurts, God said, and every cell in my body burst into tears before His tender eyes."
Rabia - Eighth-century Islamic saint and poet*

When I read these words I thought of two women: Precious, from the movie of the same name and a former student whose funeral I had attended earlier that day. One was black, one was white. One still lived, one was dead at twenty-nine. Both were sexually abused and led lives overwhelmed with challenges and battles that for one, proved insurmountable.

I watched the movie with a friend I had met while working with young women, all victims of abuse of one type or another. For many of them, abuse began with sexual molestation as young children. As we walked out of the screening room, I became aware of the color not only of those of us leaving, but also of the line of people waiting for the next showing.

"Where are the WHITE people?" I asked. I have been seeing movies at this art theater for years and had never seen such lack of diversity. Does the general public think "Precious" is a movie for a "black" audience? I hope not. "Must be a fluke," I thought to myself.

“Maybe not,” I thought after I spoke to a young friend a week later. She had seen the movie at a large, multi-screen complex in the middle of an upscale shopping center. After talking for a while about the importance of the film and how moving it was, I ventured to ask the same question: "I don't want to sound racist, but I am wondering about the people in the theater. Was it a diverse crowd?"

"No, not at all. First, it was smaller than I thought. And almost everyone there was African American."

Another fluke? I hope so. The themes dealt with in "Precious" transcend race, economic status, and nationality. Being poor and Black complicates things in our society, but the reality of abuse knows no boundaries, and sadly, no one culture seems any better at dealing with it than another.

"In Black culture people sweep things like this under the rug," my young friend said. "Everybody wants to keep it a secret, and more and more people get hurt."

"All cultures sweep abuse under the rug," I replied. "Look at the Catholic Church; it did just that for years. Why? To protect the institution, the status quo? And the Church isn't alone. In some sick way, no one wants to look at and admit the scope of abuse or deal with its consequences."

That thought was reinforced when I read a newspaper article the following day about the lack of funding for women's shelters. Many abused women and their children are turned away, forced to return to lives increasingly scarred by domestic violence. In the coming year, more shelters will close, endangering hundreds of others.

We have to ask hard questions: Why is there insufficient funding to protect the most vulnerable among us? Why do we assign this problem to a particular race, faith, or nationality (usually not our own) when it exists everywhere? Why are we willing to avert our eyes rather than confront the truth?

"Precious" forces us to see a broken society and inadequacies of services for those in desperate need. The movie reveals the importance of good teachers in seemingly impossible situations. It makes us squirm when stereotypical reactions to obesity are challenged. It teaches us to look beyond surface realities to causes. It allows us to know a real human being that most of us would be happy to pass on the street and never see again. “Precious” reveals our common humanity and the dignity of those we are tempted to "write off" as a “drain on society.”

Every person has truths to teach, especially people from whom we expect little or nothing. Through all the pain, injustice, and suffering, “Precious” shows us courage, tenacity, and amazingly, hope, whose name is Love.
© 2009 Mary van Balen

* From “Love Poems from God: Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West.” trans. Daniel Ladinsky. New York: Penguin, 2002. p 2. Read More