Dr. Karla J. Bellinger

Jan 12 2025

God to the Rescue!

I had a dream on the feast of the Assumption many years ago. It was one of those dark and scary dreams in which I was running through the streets of a town, dodging evil creatures and malevolent attackers. Suddenly I found myself in an abandoned lot. No trees. No buildings to hide me. No, no, no! I was totally exposed.

Have you ever had a nightmare like that? Or lived through a horror like that? Today’s reading from Revelation starts with a similar terror. A woman wails aloud. A serpent stands ready to devour her child about to be born, a horrifying reptile whose tail can sweep away the stars!

Yet the child is caught up to God. The woman is secured in the radiance of the desert. She and her baby are safe. As we celebrate the Assumption, we read this account because of its parallels. We believe that at the moment of death, however it happened, Mary was not devoured by death, but caught up to God.

Is death like that distress? Is it followed by an abiding sense of tranquility? We do not know. We may think that we grasp God, but in reality, no. The Redeemer is here for us. The Lord is our Rescuer, the one who snatches us from terror and brings us to peace.

In my dream, as I stood so frightened in that open field, peaceable people encircled me, powerful people who loved me and were pleased with me. The horror could not come near. I was safe. I was secure. Brightness surrounded me. Now when I think of Mary and the communion of saints, I swell with courage. I feel that I have been surrounded by them.

No matter what, we are safe. We dwell secure. All will be well.

Consider/Discuss

When you were younger, was there a place where you dwelt secure or a person with whom you were thoroughly “at home”? Where do you find safety now?
What is it like to feel alone and in terror? How is that different from being surrounded by love? Think of times when the Lord has been your Rescuer.

Living and Praying with the Word

Holy Spirit, you are the divine tie who binds us with those who are in heaven. Illumine our hearts to see that we are not alone, that those who have gone before us are cheering us onward toward peace and everlasting life. Be with us in moments of earthly terror and fear. Rather than seeing things from our earthly perspective, grant us knowledge to see things from a heavenly viewpoint, that ultimately, when this is over, all will be well. Snatch us up, carry us away to you!

Jan 12 2025

“Come!”

In the Gospel, the disciples battle a headwind. The sea is rough. Their boat struggles. In the first reading, Elijah has clashed with King Ahab and Queen Jezebel and has run from their death threats. Now he experiences an earthquake and crushing rocks and violent wind. What a lot of trouble in both stories! Do you ever feel pandemonium swirling around you?

In the turbulence, Elijah hears a “silent sound.” He knows the whisper of his God and comes to meet God at the entrance of the cave. From the surface of the stormy sea, Jesus says one word to Peter: “Come.” Peter recognizes the call of his Master. He steps out of the boat.

“Come!” Often, we think about what that means to us. But what does this vibrant beckoning say about the reality of who our God is? The Almighty has the raw power to rock mountains. The Son has the authority to still violent seas. The Spirit hovers over creation. Yet at the core of that Triune sovereignty is the resounding call: “Come!”

We hear “Come!” in the call of the disciples. We hear it in “Let all who thirst, come!” We hear it in “The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come!’ ” Jesus reveals to us how deeply we are desired: “Come to me.” Augustine says that our hearts are restless until they rest in God. How much more restless is God’s heart for us?

God’s “Come!” enfolds our entire being. We are wanted. That same divine command triggered the process of our birth—we are desired on earth. A heavenly “Come!” will set the process of our death in motion: we are sought after in heaven. No matter what, the chaos will not win. We have nothing to fear. Radiant delight surrounds us at all times.

Consider/Discuss

The eternal “Come!” can be so quiet that we have to tune our spiritual senses to perceive it, for in the bedlam of life, we may miss it. What of the chaos can we “turn down” in order to hear more carefully the still small voice of our Beloved?
Peter steps out of the boat after he recognizes the call of Jesus, the Master. The rest of the disciples do not. Which of the characters in the story do you identify with? Would you stay in the boat? Would you step out onto the water? Why or why not?

Living and Praying with the Word

Jesus, you summon us in prayer, “Come to me!” You beckon us when we are heavily laden. You call to us when we are afraid. You want to give us your peace. At the same time, you know that we push back. You even know why, when we do not. Lord, strengthen our spiritual powers so that we grow more sensitive to hearing you. You are restless for us. Open our hands and help us come to you.

Jan 12 2025

Waiting in Joyful Hope

It’s a look in the eyes—simple, trusting, innocent, almost pleading. The psalmist must have known it: “The eyes of all look hopefully to you.” Do you know that look?

I recall one day when I was trimming the fat off of a ham. I opened the door to the garage with a plateful of scraps. Our dog, Heikki, sat waiting. His big brown eyes looked hopefully at me. His tail wagged. Something tasty was coming!

Another day, the smell of brownies fills the kitchen. The timer rings. Ten-year-old Samadhi dashes around the corner and her big brown eyes look hopefully at me: are they done yet? Something delicious is coming!

What about the ten thousand hungry eyes in that deserted place in the Gospel? Might they have had that same pleading, hopeful look as Jesus looked up to heaven, said the blessing and broke the loaves of bread? Something good was coming!

I remember my mom standing in the front hall at the storm door watching for family to arrive for Christmas. Her blue eyes brimmed with expectation. She waited in joyful hope. Someone beloved was arriving!

Have you seen that look? Do you have that look?

Like the people in that deserted place, we get hungry. We get thirsty. The sun is hot and the wait is long and we are not satisfied. When troubles come, sometimes we turn our eyes inward, clench our fists, and get stuck in anxiety and worry that swirls round and round inside.

In our thirst, we could instead look up, wag our tails, and dash around the corner with a look in our eyes that something more is coming. We wait in joyful hope. Someone beloved is coming!

“You open wide your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing.” We are fed, deliciously.

Consider/Discuss

At our Sunday liturgy, we open wide our hands to receive Jesus in the Eucharist. What “look” do we have in our eyes at that time?
We live in a culture inundated with self-absorbed anxiety. How do “being thirsty or hungry” for God and “being anxious” differ? What does our response to trouble reveal about where (and from whom) we expect to find answers?

Living and Praying with the Word

Lord, you are near to all who call upon you. You ask us to pay attention, to be aware, to come to you, source of living water. Open our clenched fists, for why should we hang on to the anxiety and worry that do not bring us life? Help us to lift our eyes to you and wait in joyful hope. You give us more than we could ever ask for: overflowing baskets full of abundance.

Jan 12 2025

What Really Matters?

What does it mean to you, on this day, to hear Jesus say to sell all that you have for the kingdom of heaven? Does it might mean that you empty your bank account, give your resources to the poor, and go become a missionary in a far-off place? Does it mean that you once more offer breakfast (kindly) to an unappreciative teenager when every bone in your body wants to do otherwise? Does it might mean that you put all your cans of green beans and crushed pineapple into a box and drive down to the St. Vincent DePaul Center and leave it on their doorstep before they open?

Not as a pious platitude, but in a concrete-and-practical-everyday sort-of-way, what does “sell all you have for the kingdom of heaven” actually mean? I am guessing, since you are reading this reflection on a hot day at the end of July (when you could be doing so many other things), that this is a question that matters to you.

For that’s what it boils down to, doesn’t it: What matters? Jesus calls us to be single-minded about what matters. If you find a treasure in a field, buy the field; if you find a pearl of great price, buy the pearl. Distractions swirl around us; clutter kills clarity. Focus clarifies. Single-mindedness simplifies. Figure out what matters. Solomon asked God for a listening heart so that he could discern carefully. We ask for that, too. Before we even get out of bed in the morning, we pray, “Lord, make it clear what matters today.” Then in the power of the Holy Spirit, when you discover today’s treasure, with unstinting resolve, go for it! Lay down your life, in matters great and small. Passionately. Totally. For the glory of God.

Consider/Discuss

The morning offering is a prayer in which we give God our upcoming day so that we are conformed into the image of Christ. What most richly brings about our daily transformation?
Where is the clutter? Look at time, thoughts, emotions, activities, possessions, relationships. What can you clean today?

Living and Praying with the Word

Holy Spirit, come and rule the ordinary days of our lives. Give us the grace of discernment to see what really matters. We want to follow where you guide us. Transform our clutter into focus. We don’t always see clearly, but in our heart of hearts, we want to follow you wholeheartedly. Wonderful are your ways! Show us. Lead us. Transform us to be the people you want us to be.

Jan 12 2025

Who Knows?

It was early spring. The master gardener was really busy. A kind friend offered to weed her perennial garden while the weeds were still small. She was very grateful. He was an expert on tulips. He knew what tulip leaves looked like. So he diligently weeded that garden clean. When he was done, the tulip leaves proudly stood out from the bare soil that surrounded them. As spring unfolded in the garden, though, there were no forget-me-nots. The coreopsis was gone. There were no more buttercups. The tulips grew strong and died back. The next year, that same friend offered to help. “Let me do the weeding,” the master gardener said.

We really don’t know what we don’t know. Sometimes we assume that we know ourselves and others. The research, however, reveals that we create stories in our minds based on partial pieces of information. We do not have all the evidence on anything. If you and I had the job of weeding out the good and the bad in a group of people, we may see the acts that a person does and judge accordingly. But moral theologians tell us that moral blame is based on act, circumstance, and intention. We can and must judge acts as morally wrong or right, but we do not have enough information to pass further judgment on a person. Only God knows the circumstance and intentions behind an act.

Why doesn’t God ask us to do the weeding? Little leaves that come up in early spring do not look like the flowers they will be when they are mature. We would often pluck out the wrong things if it were up to us. We don’t know what we don’t know. Jesus offers today’s parable so that we will practice mercy, not judgment.

“Let me do the weeding,” the Master Gardener says.

Consider/Discuss

The most beautiful flower in a garden may look like a dead stick in early spring. Think back to some of the ugly things you may have done in your life. How has God helped you to grow so that you mature and blossom?
We tell stories about people in our minds. Have you ever had an “aha!” moment when you’ve said, “How could I have been so wrong about that person?”

Living and Praying with the Word

Good Gardener of us all, sometimes we look just like dead sticks or tiny weeds. But you have a vision of what we can become. Affirm our strengths. Challenge our weaknesses. Never let us stop growing. And today, assist us in revising our story about someone. Reveal to us where we are impatient or unmerciful or unkind or uncharitable, for we want to see others as you do.