Dr. Karla J. Bellinger

Jan 24 2025

A No Can Open Up to a Yes from God

In today’s Gospel, the Baptizer shakes his head and says no to his questioners: No, I am not the light; I am not the Christ; I am not Elijah; I am not the Prophet. No, no, and no.

We often hear about Mary’s yes and how we should imitate her. What about John the Baptist’s no? Should we imitate his no too? What if the man crying out in the desert had answered yes? What if he had taken the praises he received as his due, puffed out his camel hair–covered chest and said, “Yes, I am Elijah. I am good. I am the Prophet. Look at me!” He could have. But he would have lost his way.

I was pondering that no a few days ago as I walked to my office. I was treading one of the numerous sidewalks on the Notre Dame campus, the one that leads from my car to the theology building. Directly in front of me was one clear line where the concrete sections came together. I put my left foot on that crack and tried to walk straight and stay straight. I imagined, “Hmmm . . . so this one is my line, my path.” If I turn aside from that line, through envy or the distraction of wishing that I were on someone else’s route, I could lose my way and miss what I was created to do.

John the Baptist stuck to his path. He was as at home with who he was not. His clear no opened the space for the grander yes of his particular mission: he readied the world for Jesus.

We can imitate that no to what we are not. You and I are unique children of God, each with a unique mission. We too can ready the world for Jesus.

Consider/Discuss

Who are you? Who are you not? To what identity does God ask you to say no? How can you and I lose our way, wishing we were someone else?
Where are the small ways we say no in our lives? Saying no to that slice of double-chocolate cake may open the space for a slimmer figure. Telling ourselves no to that extra fifteen minutes of sleep after the alarm rings opens space for a healthier breakfast and a more relaxed preparation for work. How can no open the space for God’s vision for us of a bigger and grander yes?

Living and Praying with the Word

Savior of the World, here we are. As we are. You have anointed us to bring glad tidings to this world. Give us the courage to imitate John the Baptist’s no. Strengthen us, so that we are people of honesty, clarity, and valor, willing to say no to anything that does not further your glory. For you are coming soon. We rejoice heartily that you want to use our unique gifts and talents to help to prepare this world for your coming. Come, Lord Jesus, our Emmanuel!

Jan 23 2025

Small Beginnings

My garden experiment is to grow all of the vegetables that we eat in a year. But to harvest lettuce for the whole year is tricky; it takes planning, for I have to replant even before I harvest. So for my January crop, today I gently lay tiny seeds in the soil to germinate under the grow lights in my basement. The mature crop that I seek is contained right here in this small beginning.

As I plant and pray, distressing flashes from the news play in my head: images of children in refugee camps, leaders who lie and betray. What is the matter with the human race, I wonder?

Why does it sometimes feel that you, God, allow evil to win? Come on! Do something!

In the saga of Adam and Eve, you planted the seed of free will and gave those first parents a choice. They blew it. They went their own way. Free will seems to be at the core of human wrongdoing. Why, Lord, when we could choose goodness, do we not?

Yet even then, you wrapped the human race in love and forgiveness. You, Creator-Most-Excellent, are a painstaking planner. You planted the seed of salvation into the womb of the world, preserving Mary as immaculate so that she could be a pure vessel for the One who would come to rescue us. The end that you planned was contained right there in that tiny beginning.

So that seed of free will, though a difficulty, is not a mistake? The final end that you are looking for is our graced but freely given yes: our yes to you each day; our yes at the end of life; our yes at the conclusion of time? You must be planting for an abundant harvest!

Consider/Discuss

Do you also ever felt impatient with God’s patience? I see the distress of the world and call out, “Come on, God! Won’t you just do something? Why do you keep trying to work through us human beings when you know that we are fatally flawed? Come on, God!” How can we grow to trust in God’s broader and bigger plan for human history without descending into glib or superficial answers?
There is much good fruit in this world that does not make the news. Where have you witnessed someone’s yes that is bearing an abundant harvest? What if all the people of good will in this world said a more robust yes to goodness and justice and honesty? How would that change history?

Living and Praying with the Word

Lord God of all creation, we are not alone in asking you: what is the matter with the human race? What about all of the troubles of the world? All through history, people have pleaded with you to intervene more clearly. Yet you are at work. Thank you for all of the little acts of love and selflessness that go on in homes and hospitals, churches and schools, homeless shelters and businesses. Thank you for free will, for being so willing to work through us as friends and co-workers.

Jan 23 2025

The Status Un-quo

It was a football weekend at the University of Notre Dame. Sacred Heart basilica was packed. People from all over streamed forward in a straight line, holding open their hands—tender hands with well-formed nails, broad hands accustomed to strength. A few opened their mouths. All had straight white teeth. And I kept saying it: “Body of Christ.” And they replied: “Amen.” “Body of Christ.” “Amen.” “Body of Christ.” “Amen.” The multitudes streamed toward the Lord.

Then I saw him in line. He didn’t fit among the well-dressed crowd. Scraggly long hair. Shorts (in November?). Hiking boots. Gray wool socks with red stripes. He might have walked in straight from the Appalachian Trail. What was he doing here? He stopped in front of me and opened his hands to receive the One who was mightier than he. Eager for the One he so obviously loved, his eyes gleamed with joy.

I wondered, if John the Baptist were here among us, is this what he would look like? Would he choose to deliberately unsettle the status quo? Would he intend to show us how transitory this life is? Would he want us to be cognizant that all earthly things will pass away? That this glorious building, with these good-looking people celebrating this famed football team—would John the Baptist rail at us not to forget that all is nothing compared to the grandeur of the One who comes to us at Christmas? In spite of our self-assurance that we control the present, would he remind us that we are simple Advent people—never secure in the now, always on a tenuous trek to something more? Maybe he would. Maybe he should.

I focused back on my task for those who flowed forward, offering food for the journey: “Body of Christ.” “Amen.” “Body of Christ . . .”

Consider/Discuss

Unexpected events unsettle our surety. What has sharpened our focus, made us realize that this earthly life is not sufficient, not all there is? Where has God been in those moments?
In this tenuous Advent of our lives, paths are not always straight, mountains can seem high, valleys can feel abysmally low. How can we be like John the Baptist for each other, helping to prepare the way for the Lord?

Living and Praying with the Word

Lord, with you, one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years are like one day. Yet we can become so focused on what we are doing right here and now that we lose sight of your bigger picture. Sharpen our eyes to see your broader vision. You alone are enough. Ready us to receive your forgiveness as we prepare for your coming, eager to be found without spot or blemish. Come, Emmanuel, come and be born in our hearts!

Jan 23 2025

Advent Is Calling!

She stokes the fire and stirs the logs so that they get more air. From upstairs, she hears the breathing machine, whirring in and out, bringing oxygen to the one she loves. She cannot see the air around the logs. She cannot see the oxygen in the machine. But she is continually attentive to its movement. It is always there. It is always moving. Something could happen. She needs to be ready.

He is chopping onions, humming a tune. A pan lid clangs. A grunt sounds as a diaper plops to the floor. From the corner of his eye, he sees movement and then feels a tug on his pant leg. He reaches down to lift his beloved onto his hip. He slides vegetables into the skillet. The toddler is always there. He is always moving. His dad is continually attentive to his noises, alert to his motion. Something could happen. He needs to be ready.

For Israel, the Lord is always present, always active, always moving. The prophet Isaiah is alert to that invisible motion. He pleads to the Redeemer who has been faithful in the past, for his people are at risk: “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down!” Today’s psalmist begs, “Come, come to save us!” The divine “you” is constantly in Israel’s awareness as their enduring reality: always present, continually moving, forever acting.

It may not be the noise of the breathing machine in Mary Oliver’s poem “Oxygen.” It may not be the crawling boy in my son’s kitchen. But you and I, we too may have seasons of hyper-alertness at the edge of consciousness. In situations that carry some risk, we are ready.

Jesus alerts us today: The One we love is here. Something is happening. Be attentive. Watch!

Consider/Discuss

Consider the times in your own life when you have had that attentiveness at the edge of consciousness. What was the situation? Who was the beloved? What was the risk?
Like the oxygen that continually flows within us, the Spirit of God breathes in our lives right now. Like the toddler crashing pan lids around us, the Spirit is active and moving in this world. As we begin anew this Advent, how can we allow the grace of God to cultivate within us a livelier attentiveness to this divine movement?

Living and Praying with the Word

Savior of the world, you are the Prince of Peace. We are not at peace. We feel some risk. You have always been faithful to us. We are not always faithful to you. As we move into Advent, bring us to deeper conversion. You ask us to be more aware of your presence. You are here. You are active. You are always moving in our lives. Thank you for rescuing us in our past. We trust you to take care of our future. O come, Emmanuel. Come and save us!

Jan 21 2025

Mary Watches Over Jesus as the Lord Watches Over Us

I have an elderly friend who took a hard fall. Now, nurses and family hover over her continually, watching for a brain bleed and signs of confusion. What will her future hold?

I have a grandson who was recently born. His mother and father look at him continually, beholding his tiny hands and feet and admiring his shock of hair. What will this child be?

In our reading, there is a lot of clamor surrounding the shepherds. “They went with speed” and “they told everyone” and “all who heard it were astonished”—it sounds like a lot of noise, doesn’t it? Like the steady stream of visitors to the hospital, they ask, “What does the future hold?”

In the middle of the shepherds’ commotion are these few words about Mary: “She [treasured] all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” She is the quiet anchor in the center of the tumult. She feeds the baby. She rocks him. He is near to her. In the midst of the chaos, she gives a maternal gaze of blessing upon that infant child. Like the Virgin of Guadalupe, she wraps her mantle around him. And all of these experiences remain in her memory.

This same gaze of blessing is found in the blessing of Aaron in the book of Numbers. Watch over, keep, hover, safeguard—these are all images of protectiveness and care. We too are watched over. It is a blessed hovering, a nearness that we should not fear: The Lord bless you and keep you, watch over you; The Lord let his face to shine upon you. Life can sometimes worry us. But no matter what the future holds, a gaze of love enfolds us. We know Who holds our future.

Consider/Discuss

Put yourself into the Gospel story as a townsperson or a friend of one of the shepherds. How would you respond when he tells you this remarkable story of angels and a baby in the manger?
When a pregnant woman sits down with a group of older mothers, they suddenly and naturally start swapping birth stories. To whom do you think that Mary might have later told Jesus’ birth stories? What stories did your mother tell about your birth?

Living and Praying with the Word

Hover over us, Spirit of God. We want to be independent. We want to believe that we can succeed in life all by ourselves. Yet when we were children, we needed a mother’s care. Today, we need your care, too. We cry out from our hearts, “Abba, Father!” You are the source of our elation. Stir us to taste more deeply the sweetness of your love.