Dr. Karla J. Bellinger

Feb 11 2025

Reflection-Visions of the End

In the 1400s, artists depicted Doom. Jan Van Eyck painted grisly naked bodies, deformed and in torment, with a skull-like figure hovering over them. Hans Memling depicted the Last Judgment with bodies flung about; a demon seizes a helpless man by the ankle and smashes a foot on his neck. The people of Europe had just come through one of the most hellish centuries in memory—war, famine, and bubonic plague had decimated Europe. They had seen dead bodies. They had seen people starve. The artwork reflected that desolation. Where was God in all that tribulation? The mild Jesus of the thirteenth century’s artists was gone. The art of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries tended to portray God as harsh, judgmental, and aloof. If you needed help, go ask his mother or one of the other saints. God wasn’t likely to help you.

Where are we now? When we hear Jesus talk this week about tribulations and stars falling from the sky, is this more real than it used to be? Could we be wiped out by war, or famine, or disease? When the prophet Daniel speaks of a “time unsurpassed in distress,” does that feel more like a possibility?

I know a young woman who lost two of her grandparents in one day during the COVID-19 pandemic. The immediate response was, “God, where are you in this?” If desolation goes on for a hundred years, as it did in the fourteenth century, will our perspective of God change? Will we believe that God is likely to help us?

Jesus says that we cannot know the day or the hour of the end. But with the psalmist, we ask for the grace to hang onto a belief in a good end, believing God will not abandon us to Sheol, the land of the dead. God alone is our inheritance!

Consider/Discuss

How has your perspective about the end-times changed since five or ten years ago? Have recent tribulations altered your perception of God? If so, how? If not, why not?
Many recent movies and shows deal with apocalyptic scenarios. Have you seen one that has impacted you? How do the protagonists deal with the end-of-the-world trials that they face? Where is/isn’t faith in God present in those end-times situations? Six centuries from now, how will people look back and see how our artists are depicting the Divine in the twenty-first century?

Living and Praying with the Word

Jesus, from your words, you appear to have a long perspective. While we measure time in days and years, you see things in centuries and eons. If heaven and earth pass away, will your words not also pass away? That is hard for us to envision. Give us your eyesight this day. The end of the world is a scary prospect and we cannot handle that without your help. Strengthen us this day for whatever the future brings. In the midst of our fears, be our Peace. When trials come, be our Rock. No matter what happens, show us the path of life and allow us to glorify you forever.

Jan 29 2025

The King

It was thirty years ago. I was strong and quick. That’s why they chose me to guard Pilate. No one would harm the proconsul on my watch. Some write that the governor was alone with Jesus. Pilate was never alone with a prisoner. I stood in the back at attention. I was there. I heard. I saw.

“Are you the King of the Jews?” Pilate asked.

The rebel was strong. He carried his shoulders as one accustomed to lifting heavy burdens, to working with his hands. I watched those hands; they could do damage to Pilate’s throat if he chose. But I would kill him first.

“Your own nation has handed you over. What have you done?” Pilate was relaxed. He had spent many years judging men all over Judea. This man was not important. But the chief priests had asked that he be tried for sedition, for inciting people to rebel against Rome.

To Pilate, here was another small man pretending that he was somebody big.

“My kingdom does not belong to this world. My kingdom is not here,” the prisoner said.

Pilate was taken by surprise. “Then you are a king!” He looked past the man and glanced up at me.

The prisoner turned to look me in the eye. “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

My heart burned. I could hardly breathe. “This is the King,” I knew in that moment. “This is my King.”

Ever since that day, I have told the story of Jesus’s encounter with Pilate. So today, my Emperor Nero, I will not change my statement. Your lions can tear me apart. You can slay me with the sword. I will serve no king but the King, ruler of the kings of the earth. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last. I will serve no other.

Consider/Discuss

The “unknown soldier” in this story was willing to give his life for his King. What does it mean to you to give your life for your King?
Looking back at the events of this liturgical year since the beginning of last Advent, in what ways have you seen the King of the Universe triumph? In what ways has it seemed that darkness and falsehood have prevailed? This day, we do what has to be done in spite of what the future may hold. How can we live today faithful to the King rather than dwell in fear?

Living and Praying with the Word

God of the living, you are our future. As we launch from this holy year to the next, we do not know what those days will bring, but you will be there. You will guide us. You will uphold us. We want to honor your kingship. We want to give our lives for you.

All you unknown martyrs of the faith, pray for us. We want to bear witness to Christ—the King—as you did. In courage and strength, we too will serve no other.

Jan 29 2025

God of the Little

Last April, I was growing tomatoes from seed. Some of the Chef’s Orange seedlings were only three inches high while others were overtopping them at six inches. I said to them, “Come on, you can grow! Just because you are littler, doesn’t mean that you can’t bear fruit.” Now in November, as I pull out the eight-foot plants that are done producing for the season, I cannot tell which were the little ones. They all produced sweet and juicy orange tomatoes. They blessed my table. Now they are done for the year. I am pleased with them.

Widows were those “little ones” in Israel. They were at the bottom of the social ladder, for a woman’s value was derived from her husband. A widow had no husband and thus no worth. They were the little tomatoes in the garden.

The widow in the book of Kings is ready to die in the great drought. Yet Elijah assures her that even in her littleness, God will provide for her. Her jars of flour and oil never run out. She has food for a year! The psalmist says, “The Lord gives food to the hungry.”

Jesus is not impressed by the overtopping “bigness” of the scribes and the Pharisees. They have seats of honor. They are applauded for their spirituality. They pray long prayers to impress an audience. He’s just as unmoved by the rich, who put large sums of money—

from their excess—into the treasury. They will shrivel on the vine. It is the widow whom Jesus celebrates in her littleness. She has given all that she has. She may not make the news. She may not make the history books. When harvest time comes and all of them are done, it won’t matter how small she was. She has borne sweet and succulent fruit. God is pleased with her.

Consider/Discuss

Littleness and abundance—what makes it so hard to be willing to be small? What impresses us? What drives us to want to look important?
The widow’s mite—what is that in our lives? What do we have to give that seems little, but is everything?

Living and Praying with the Word

Jesus, when we are done with life, we would like for you to be pleased with us. As we move toward the end of the church year, you focus our minds on the harvest time. You ask us to look at the fruitfulness of our lives. We know that the end is coming. Forgive us those little things that we have ignored, or we let go of, or we did not feel were important. Today, this day, fill our jars with the grace of your presence so that even our small generosities never run out.

Jan 29 2025

Distant Alleluias

Jesus breathed his last. He made no sound. Mary and the beloved disciple listened for his voice. No sound came. He was no more. The silence beneath the cross must have been unbearable.

At the death of a loved one, a hole opens up. Someone who had traveled with us is no more. We call out. No one answers. The silence can be unbearable.

On these days of All Saints and All Souls, how can we celebrate the dead? Death is not to be dismissed lightly. Death is emptiness. Death is heartache. Death is real.

And yet . . .

I remember once thinking that I was hearing angelic voices. I was sitting in the teachers’ lounge. I turned, for it sounded as though it was coming from outside the window. On that spring day, the choir director had the high school girls practicing for Mass, singing alleluias by the pond. The window was closed. The music was far away. But it was sweet. It was pure. It was a taste of celestial joy.

Listen! Can you hear it? The far-off sound of singing rings in our ears.

In the Gospel, Mary and John had to wait three days before they heard Jesus’ voice again. You and I, we’ll wait longer than three days to hear the voices of those we love. But while we wait, we listen. Can you hear it?

We may not yet hear the roaring hallelujahs of heaven. But alleluias from a distance trickle into our silence. Tiny notes of gladness sprinkle into our grief. Joyous memories, warm stories, favorite songs, the granddaughter who looks so like her grandmother—we have tastes of eternity, even while here on earth. Those we love are not dead. They are alive.

Today, we celebrate! The blessed have come through victorious. Listen! Can you hear the singing? Maybe they’re even . . . dancing?

Consider/Discuss

What distant alleluias have you heard that have given you hope? What glimmers of eternity have you seen?
One of my favorite things about All Saints Day is the people who come to Mass. The 4:30 p.m. Saturday Mass saints seem to gather with the 7:30 a.m. Sunday saints and the 10:30 a.m. saints—all of the holy people of a parish come together in one space. This is a taste of heaven on earth, a joy to be together. It might even be a good day for a party. Who do you most hope to see when you get to the celebration of heaven?

Living and Praying with the Word

Alleluia, alleluia! Let the holy anthem rise! Jesus, you showed us that death is not the final answer. Let the choirs of heaven chant it in the temple of the skies! As you rose, we also want to rise. We want to run and greet those we love. Saints among the saints, we live in joyful hope of that day. Thank you for this day to celebrate our hope. Most of all, we want to celebrate you! Thank you for making it all possible.

Jan 29 2025

Someone Is Listening

The young man was an atheist, born of Russian parents. He had never prayed before. He had only walked into a church once, on a visit to Europe. A sincere young man, he was open to participating in prayer class, at least to try it. He had a Catholic girlfriend and he wanted to understand. As a tennis player, he had learned mindfulness to stay focused. After five weeks, he had an “Aha!” moment: “In prayer, there is Someone to call on,” he said. In mindfulness, all he had was himself.

A woman in the same class was teaching mindfulness to men in prison. She said that they didn’t like it at all. When she suggested that they turn inward and draw upon their inner strength, one man objected, “There is nothing inside of me that I want to bring up!” His life was not what he wanted it to be. He wanted to pray. He wanted Someone to turn to who could help him.

After the Second Vatican Council, there was a deliberate abandonment of the word “Lord.” (The Council itself did not speak about this matter.) And yet at the heart of our faith and the Jewish faith is the Shema. Notice that Jesus did not set it aside: “The Lord our God is Lord alone.”

Once when teaching twelve-year-olds in religious education, I asked them what the word “Lord” meant. They got blank looks on their faces. Then one said, “I heard it in a video game once somewhere.”

An earlier generation may have gotten an over-abundance of God as detached authority and thus deliberately set “Lordship” aside. As a result, a younger generation floats on shifting ground, rudderless and prone to anxiety, for there is no one in charge; everything is up for grabs. What one generation knows as a solid groundwork from childhood, another generation has never known. All they have is themselves. And that seems not to suffice.

Consider/Discuss

What emotions are evoked within you when you hear “The Lord our God is Lord alone”? Is the Lordship of God an oppressive feeling of an authority who weighs you down? Do you want to delete the word “Lord” from this reflection and Christian usage? Or are you looking for a benevolent Someone to turn to in a shifting world, Someone who holds you up in times of trouble? The generational divide in the Church rests on this theological difference. Why can we not talk about it? How might you explore the experience (and thus the perspective) of someone on the other side of the issue?
Do we have Someone to turn to? Can we assume that others have that same inner assurance? What would life be like if there were no foundation of faith? Imagine yourself in someone else’s shoes.

Living and Praying with the Word

Lord our God, I offer to you my whole heart and soul and mind and strength. I turn to you. I cannot do this on my own. Be my center. Be my source. Be my goal. Let me not take you for granted. You have asked me to have no other gods before you. Give me the grace to love you with all my heart, all my understanding, and all my strength. And in that strength and by your grace, help me to love my neighbor as myself. Let the assurance of your care and your protection wash over me always.