Dr. Karla J. Bellinger

Jan 28 2025

All Is Not Lost

Summer in the northern hemisphere feels like a funny time of year to think about the dying. The created world overflows with vigor. Tomatoes are ripe. Corn is in full ear. Yet here in vibrant mid August, the Church asks us to ponder Mary’s assumption, to probe and ponder the end of earthly life.

I remember one August when my son first saw a dead snake on a dirt road. It was lying still. It didn’t move. His four-year-old eyes brimmed with tears as he asked, “Is it gone? Is it lost?”

We wonder, too. What happens after death? Will we be gone? Will we be lost?

What happened to Mary? Did she die and her resurrected body was taken into heaven, like the Son of God? Was she swept into a chariot without dying, like Elijah? Theologians don’t agree about what her “assumption” looked like. Yet the Theotokos didn’t become a floating spirit, just as Jesus’ resurrected body didn’t become a ghost. The woman created as Mary of Nazareth, body and soul, was taken into heaven. She is not lost. She is alive.

The Good News of this feast is that those who die are not lost. What makes you, you; what makes me, me—that will not fade away. Matter matters. Though we don’t know how it works, we will have the same completion that the Virgin Mary has: we, body and soul, will not be lost.

Our grand finale is to be with God. You and I will stand before the power of the Most High and be overshadowed with glory. Together with the angels and the saints, we will overflow with intoxicating happiness within the tenderness of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This is our confidence: ultimately, we will be home. We will not be lost. We will be found.

Consider/Discuss

Everlasting life—is this just a nice idea? Is heaven just a delusion for simple and backward people? Some would distrust anything that cannot be detected by our five senses. Many, even other Christians, scoff at today’s feast. Heaven is real; we believe that and yet we do not believe. What difference would it make to our lives if we regain a robust sense of a blessed eternity? It is beyond our imagining that all of the universe, all matter, will one day be drawn into God. St. Paul says that all creation groans while awaiting the final deliverance from death. The feast of the Assumption gives us a foretaste of that redemption. What does it mean for your human dignity and mine, that all created matter will one day be drawn to God?

Living and Praying with the Word

God of the Universe, you give us tastes of heaven on earth. Yet we have no idea of the abundance that you have in store for us. Your face shines upon us even now. One day your light will radiate upon us in everlasting brilliance. On this August day, plant deep within us an enthusiastic vision of the immensity and promise of your glory. Holy One Most High, let your exhilaration radiate from within us so strongly that we cannot hold it in. Mary, Mother of God, pray for us on this day, your day.

Jan 28 2025

Missing the “Wow!”

I thought about the chocolate bar that I had eaten for lunch. I plodded along, thinking of the mountain we’d just climbed, but even more of my sleeping bag. I stared down at the path. Suddenly the young woman in front of me stopped. I almost ran into her. The person behind me bumped my shoulder before she stopped. I looked up. There, standing six feet in front of us in this Maine wilderness, was the largest moose I have ever seen.

Today I feel as though I am staring at a well-worn path, too. There is an occupational hazard in writing many reflections and studying the same scriptures over and over again. What are the perils? I begin to skim. I think of “mining” the word of God for “the lesson.” I think about pontificating about “those (other) folks” who dwell in the futility of their minds as I dissect Paul’s thought system.

Some of the Israelites in the first reading may have analyzed the biomass of the desert. They scrutinized their path. They correctly concluded that there was not enough forage there to support them. Their whole community was going to die of starvation.

Folks scrambled off to find Jesus. Their brains were racing: “What might we do with a man who can feed five thousand people? Many are starving in Israel.” Like me, they were staring at their path, thinking about their chocolate bar and their sleeping bag.

Jesus is like that moose in our midst. He stops us in our tracks. He says to us, “Hey! Look up! I am the Bread of Life! I am here!” God sent the Israelites manna from heaven to say, “Look up! I am here!”

The moose lumbered off. We trudged back to camp. But that startled “wow!” has never left me.

Consider/Discuss

Sometimes we trudge along the well-worn path of religious practice, staring at the ground. We may figure that we’ve pretty much “got this.” When we are plodding along, thinking about the “how” and the “what,” how might we miss the Who, the “wow!” of the One who is our faith?
The passage just before today’s reading from John is the story of Jesus walking on the water. Are we trudging down the weary path of life absorbed in our own thoughts? How can we allow the Holy Spirit to help us “look up!” to walk on water?

Living and Praying with the Word

In love’s deepest longings, we don’t just want to know about someone, we want to know them. Remind us that St. Paul encourages us to “Be renewed in the spirit of your minds.” So, Lord of heaven, this day, we want to see you. Step onto the mundane path that we trudge and surprise us! Step into our way and say, “Hey, here I am!” Open our eyes to see you.

Jan 27 2025

Seeing with Eyes of Amazement

Grass? That word jumped out at me when I first read today’s passage from John. Grass? In Israel?

When I look out of my window, I see green. I see grass, rich green grass. I see the dark green of spruce, the rich green of maple, the forest of green in the woods of oak and walnut and cherry. The region in which I live is in the rain shadow of Lake Michigan, and bursts with the color green on the first day of August. Water is abundant. All is vibrantly green.

I don’t recall that depth of green when I visited Israel, especially not in unirrigated places. So it startled me to read “there was a great deal of grass in that place” (John 6:10). I asked a Palestinian friend about that. She said, “That would be very unusual. Maybe a few places in early spring?”

The author of John writes in multiple layers of meaning, often frolicking with witticisms that we don’t comprehend in translation. So why the “grass?”

I looked up the Greek word used for “grass” . . . and surprise! Grass wasn’t something that you mowed to play soccer. This Greek word means “fodder” or “hay”—something that you feed to animals.

Clever, isn’t it, that Jesus would tell them to recline on the “fodder” when he is about to feed them?

Our God is surprising. Philip did the math—a hundred days’ wages wouldn’t be enough. How can we feed these folks? (Elisha’s servant asks the same thing: “How can we do this?”)

Using Eucharistic language, the Lord’s abundance was unexpected. He worked through an unlikely person: an unnamed little boy. Jesus’s unwillingness to be king was unexpected, too.

When you look at grass, think how astonishing God is: “The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs” . . . in totally unexpected ways.

Consider/Discuss

As we head into a month of Bread of Life discourses, we will see Jesus continually doing the unexpected—feeding five thousand people, walking on water, ducking away from those who would make him king, calling himself the Bread of Life, making his supposed followers grumble at his audacity as they walk away. God’s ways are not our ways. Even more, God’s ways seem to be radically different from our expectations. How could we cultivate an “eyesight of amazement” this month, allowing the Holy Spirit to surprise us in ways that we might not expect?
In what unpredicted ways has God met your needs or answered your prayers? Who has helped you to “pick up and get going,” even someone whose help you did not expect?

Living and Praying with the Word

Lord, what an adventure it is to follow you! You take us places we never imagined we might go. You have worked through people whom we never would have expected. Thank you for keeping us alert and attentive to your ways, always hoping, always wondering how you will feed us today. Give us this day our daily bread, with baskets left over! What are you going to do today, God?

Jan 27 2025

Exhausted—Just as Jesus Was

Exhaustion. Jesus understands it. When he heals, power pours out of him. When he sits down to rest, someone shows up to talk. After he preaches all day, crowds clamor after him until night. At night, he stays up to pray. Jesus knows how draining ministry can be. The exhaustion of helping others is very real.

In the work I do with clergy, I also see exhaustion. One pastor manages eight properties (including two schools) in Manhattan, in addition to meeting the everyday needs of several thousand people. Another pastor walks the streets of his inner-city parish where the blood of shootings is regularly splattered on his church door. A staff chaplain serves four thousand employees on a college campus. Servant leadership is exhausting. Deep fatigue permeates daily life.

For parents of young children, social workers, nurses and doctors, police, ministers and teachers, burnout is an occupational hazard. Researchers have found that burnout can creep up on any of us, no matter the occupation. We work harder but produce less; we become cynical toward the people we used to enjoy helping; we awake with a feeling of dread, already emotionally drained.

In today’s Gospel, the Twelve come back both exhilarated and exhausted. These are their early days, so they are not yet burned out. But Jesus knows that they are tired. He takes them away to a deserted place to recover.

But nobody rests for long. The crowds find them. Jesus’ heart is moved with pity. Can you feel Jesus’ urgency? So many people need help. That urgency keeps us going, too. The twinned graces of duty and compassion propel us to help, even long after we’d like to stop. The mission goes on. But Jesus knows that we also need to be refreshed.

Consider/Discuss

How refreshing it is when someone offers to help lighten our load! That accompaniment gives courage to life. Love comes from the graces of compassion and duty that show up in tiny ways—a guest helps with the dishes, a grandparent takes the kids for the day, a parishioner brings a meal, a businessman volunteers to do the books. How can the Holy Spirit– inspired impulses of duty and compassion move us to help someone carry his or her load today? How can duty and compassion toward ourselves spur us to ask for help today?
Jesus knows our weariness. Some surveys suggest that fatigue is a hidden but perhaps deadly epidemic in modern life. One out of five fatal car accidents is attributed to a drowsy driver. Work productivity is impaired by a lack of sleep. We are tired. (You might even be nodding off while you read this!) The graces of duty and compassion keep us going. Yet how can we allow the Holy Spirit to inspire us to take steps toward restorative rest?

Living and Praying with the Word

Lord, you said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest.” Thank you for knowing what I am going through. Thank you for recognizing my need. Thank you for your compassion. This moment as I pray, I am falling asleep. Hold me now, tender Lord. Soothe my soul, blessed Savior. Let me rest in your calm for a moment. Then I’ll get up and get to work. Or maybe not. Good night, sweet Jesus.

Jan 27 2025

Making a Difference

A preschooler reaches up and beams, “I love you, Mommy.” A young father stops the homilist and says, “Your preaching has helped me to trust God more.” A cashier looks at the hospital chaplain with tears in her eyes and murmurs, “Thank you for your kind words on the day that my husband died.”

There are few things so rewarding as making a difference in someone’s life. To touch people’s lives warms the giver’s heart. The elation of helping others is very real.

Today, Jesus sends the apostles out two by two. Imagine the excitement to be given the authority to do the “mighty deeds” of the Teacher! The delight at seeing demons fall, the euphoria of healing the sick, and the conversion of the broken-hearted—can you picture it? That had to be exhilarating.

The prophet Amos was sent from taking care of his sheep to prophesy to the people of Israel. To be on a mission is motivating. Fire burns within and propels us forward: “Come on! Let’s go!”

Those moments of elation keep us giving. The satisfaction of helping others keeps us going. Yet Jesus provided the Twelve with nothing for the journey. They were not permitted to be self-sufficient. They had to work in solidarity with one another. Why? Perhaps Jesus knew the temptations to grow proud and to get puffed up, to feel heroic. The human emotion of being on a mission is just part of the story. God is the Hero of heroes. St. Paul says that we are chosen for a purpose, God’s purpose. We serve for the praise of God’s glory.

It is the living God who wants to be at work through us. That is the supreme cause for rejoicing. Imagine that joy!

Consider/Discuss

Over and over again, we are free to choose whether to serve others or serve ourselves, whether to give glory to God or to ourselves, whether to follow God’s purpose or our own. Within one lifetime, those daily choices form who we are and what we become. What would you like to do today?
Tell stories of grace. How has someone warmed your life? Whose mission has gladdened the way you see the world? How has God been at work through others to hearten and heal and encourage you?

Living and Praying with the Word

Holy Spirit, you have poured love into our hearts. You are the strength and the power beneath our acts of kindness and compassion. We do nothing without your grace. Jesus, you look upon our bravery; you look upon our meager efforts to serve you; you look upon our “mighty deeds,” and you smile a thousand smiles. For you love us. You know that it is serving others that makes life worth living. Heavenly Father, you have created us that way, and so you give us those opportunities to make a difference for each other. Thank you, Holy Trinity, for your grace. Thank you for your mercy. Thank you for your kindness.