Dr. Karla J. Bellinger

Jan 27 2025

How Much Are You Worth?

Think about this: somebody offers you a hundred dollars to watch over a dozen sheep for one night. Then a wolf slinks by. He intends to devour you. Would you keep that hundred dollars or would you abandon the cash and run away and not get eaten? Would you chance it for two hundred dollars? How about a thousand? How much are you worth? How much are those sheep worth to you?

I cooked two lamb chops for dinner. On the label, they cost $8.51. They had a lot of fat, which I gave to the dog. Heike doesn’t exactly look like a wolf, but he’s got the focused crouch of a border collie that says “Don’t mess with me” after I put meat in his dish. How much is my right hand worth?

In the midst of sautéing and determining the monetary value of sheep and feeding the dog, I wonder about the surprising turn in today’s Gospel. Jesus first describes the hired help who abandon the sheep. Then he suddenly switches to laying down his life. Where did that thought come from? Were there Jewish folk tales about the heroic love of the lone shepherd on the hillside who died defending his sheep from a pack of hungry wolves? If so, how much were those sheep worth?

The Gospel account seems to assume that we know those background stories, for Jesus presses on to talk about voluntarily laying down his own life for us, as that brave shepherd would lay down his life for his sheep. Why? He knows us. He looks at us as more than lamb chops. He cares for our welfare. Like the hero on the hillside, he is the Good Shepherd, willing to die—for us. If that is the case, then how much are we worth?

Consider/Discuss

Sometimes we place a monetary value on people: how much return on investment do you get from gaining a dozen more paying customers; what is the corporate value of an increased retention of employees; how can we alter the message to gain more voters . . . the list goes on. This monetization is needed to gauge effectiveness in each of those respective disciplines. But how can we avoid the temptation to look at people as numbers? What worth does God put on a human life?
The bond between sheep and shepherd can feel a little distant to those unfamiliar with herding. What if we altered the story to speak of one’s small children or little nieces and nephews? How much money could someone pay you to save their lives? Would you run away when they were in danger? How much are they worth?

Living and Praying with the Word

Jesus, Good Shepherd, we think that we are worth something. We may even boast of our importance. But we have no idea of the inestimable value that you place on us. Our wildest imaginings of our own worth are only a drop of water compared to the ocean of what you see that we are worth. Can this be? Do we matter so much? Do we matter so much to you? Do we matter so much to you that you would die to defend us? All we can do, Lord, is fall to our knees in amazement. Thank you!

Jan 27 2025

The Burning Joy of Jubilation

Jesus is risen! Joy, exultation, a grand hurrah! And resounding alleluias! The disciples running back to Jerusalem are jubilant! As they run, they shout to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us when we walked on the road with him?” Jesus is alive!

Teresa of Ávila, the mystic, felt that jubilation, too. In her autobiography, she described that an angel thrust a long spear, tipped with fire, into her heart. As the point was being drawn out, she was left all on fire with a great love of God. That painful but sweet caress of love left her in bliss for many days.

Do modern day folks ever feel that inner burning? I wonder . . . On occasion I’ve had a bad cough and my lungs felt like they were burning. But that is not it.

When something is deeply unjust, the heat of righteous indignation can fire up the gut to do something to make things right. But that is not it either.

What is this burning of jubilation?

A young man once shared with me that he had experienced that burning in his heart one time, as he watched his bride come up the aisle. Happiness and gratitude and love all rushed together to create a fiery jubilation inside.

A mother described the touch of the tiny fingers of the two-day old child who so recently had been inside of her. Her heart swelled with the warmth of jubilation.

A husband has talked of how his heart burned with joy when his wife came home from the hospital, healed. Gratitude and love and relief all flooded together into the jubilation of having more days together.

This burning of the heart in jubilation is the opposite of Good Friday’s burden of the heart in sorrow. It is a foretaste of heaven. Death is not life’s final answer. Jesus is risen! We too will be raised! God be praised!

Consider/Discuss

Some scholars suggest that the second of the disciples on the road to Emmaus is unnamed in order to allow us to be that traveler on the road. When have you been that disciple, and felt your heart burning with jubilation within you?
Resurrection is more glorious than we could ever imagine. Yet sometimes we allow ourselves to be satisfied with just a bland or dulled hope. How could we grow more fervent in living new life?

Living and Praying with the Word

Jesus, we taste the sweetness of your blessed fire so rarely. Though the joys of heaven are never ending, maybe the reason that we don’t feel that more often is that we couldn’t handle more glory on a regular basis. But thank you for the moments when your joy breaks through into our lives. Thank you for love and friendship and the sharing of bread and the little touches of ways that you reveal to us the glory of heaven. Come, be with us now. Our hearts want to burn with your love.

Jan 27 2025

Mercy Breaks through Our Hardness

Imagine you are at the table that evening. Thomas has set his face like stone, “Um, yeah, and how exactly did Jesus come through the room’s rock wall last week when the door was locked? And how can you say that he just stood here among you? We all know that he died. We saw him. Not breathing. Water and blood flowed from his side where they stabbed him. Gone. Jesus is dead.” He wonders, “Whatever made me hang out with these guys anyway?”

Andrew is ecstatic. “No, he’s not dead! Alive! Yes, he stood right there, next to where you are sitting now. Jesus is alive! He breathed the Holy Spirit upon us. I feel different. I am not afraid. I am so excited.”

Thomas looks over at the sandstone wall and shakes his head. That doesn’t make any sense. Andrew, always the first to believe, the one who drags everybody else into things . . .

Peter knows what he saw. But he doesn’t know how to respond to Thomas’s disbelief. The big fisherman stands up and pounds on the rock of the wall. “He was here. I don’t know how he came through, but he was here. It was Jesus. Real. Real as you and me. He was looking for you. And he wanted to see the other one, too.” (Nobody would say aloud the name of Judas the betrayer.)

Nathaniel quietly lowers his cup from his lips and says, “But still . . . not the same, Peter; not the same; not the same as you and me. . . ” He thought back to the reviving of Martha’s brother Lazarus, and the smell. “It is different. Lazarus came back with the same body he had before. Jesus was entirely and totally changed, as though his body were a new material. It is hard to describe. Thomas, you just had to be here.”

And then suddenly, there he was.

Consider/Discuss

The hardness of the stone wall did not stop Jesus. The hardness in Thomas’ heart did not stop Jesus. Our own hardness does not stop Jesus. His divine mercy is greater than any hardness. His divine presence is greater than our disbelief. How do we too call out, “My Lord and my God!” when we have been shown mercy?
The apostles lived closely with each other when they walked with Jesus. He was the glue for their camaraderie. When he was no longer there—he who had held them together—it was gone. What happened to their unity? What happens to the unity of the people of God today, if/when Jesus is no longer the center of our connectedness?

Living and Praying with the Word

Lord, you hear our wrangling about “what I believe” and “what I think” and “what group I belong to.” There is the blaring noise of those who yell at us to believe. There is the mocking noise of those who do not believe. So much hardness surrounds Christianity. And then . . . you come through the wall. You tenderly tap us on the shoulder and say, “I am here.” You show up in our lives when we least expect. Help us to refocus on you, for you come through walls in every age.

Jan 27 2025

Glimpses of Resurrection

My grandpa had a hard childhood. My aunt, with whom he lived in his last decade, said that he never said, “Thank you.” He was a good man, but not one who smiled often.

The day before my brother’s wedding in Los Angeles, our extended family went to Disneyland. My three-year-old daughter and my grandpa and I went to the merry-go-round. Grandpa said that he would stand next to my daughter, Maria. I got on the horse in front of them. An announcement came over the PA: no standing allowed. The music began to play. The horses started to move. I turned around to see how they were doing. My grandpa sat on the dappled gray, going up and down, his arm around that little girl. His face beamed with childlike joy.

A few days after my grandpa died, I was driving our van down a hill. For a brief flash, I sensed him jumping up and down, beaming with that same innocent joy and shouting, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, God!” It was totally unlike the somber grandpa I had known. Was that a glimpse of how heaven had healed him of his earthly sorrows and invigorated him with new life? I don’t know. But if so, how radiantly glorious is the Resurrection!

Mary of Magdala and Peter and John also told of what they had seen and heard. Did they understand exactly what had happened? No. But they saw and believed.

We can gaze at a newborn baby at Christmas. We can stare at the cross on Good Friday. But can we gaze on the Resurrection? It is too bright, like staring at the sun immediately after coming outside from a darkened room. But God gives us glimpses, flashes of resurrection in everyday life.

Consider/Discuss

One glimpse of the Resurrection is a greater jubilation than any earthly thing. Have you ever had glints or sparkles of the brightness of the Resurrection?
It takes a lifetime to learn to say, “I too will rise.” And though we do not fully understand it, each day we get closer. Throw your whole self into celebrating Easter today and let God work miracles in you. Hear the deafening alleluias of heaven! Jesus is risen!

Living and Praying with the Word

Jesus, you lay in the darkness of the tomb. Sometimes it feels as though we live in a drab basement with only a nightlight by which to see. The darkness of death threatens to engulf us. But this day, you have taken upon yourself all the wounds of earth. You have risen from the dead! Like the apostles, we don’t really understand that. But today, you are alive! You give us hints of your glory, of the alleluias of heaven. The brilliance of your everlasting day surrounds us. Give us eyes to see! Give us voices to sing your praise!

Jan 24 2025

The Presentation in the Temple

Look at me. The skin on my hands is so thin that I can see my veins and my bones. My feet shuffle so slowly that everyone rushes past me in the street. The ache in my back never stops. Isn’t it enough already, you who have been our hope for ages past? Long ago, you said that you would not take me to you until I had seen your Messiah. I felt then that it was a wonderful promise. But extreme old age is a burden heavy to bear. All that I love is gone. I have waited so long.

What’s that? This is the day? Go to the temple?

Look at her. Her cheeks are fresh, gleaming with joy, as she holds that boy. She is young. Yet a sword will pierce her heart. The babe is light in her arms. She doesn’t know how heavy it will be to hold a lifeless child. The man stands behind her, a holy family. She doesn’t know the hole left in your heart when your spouse dies. O Lord, I have seen too much. The heaviness of earth weighs me down.

What’s that, you say? This is the One? The child?

Look at him. His tiny head nestles in the crook of my arm. His eyes briefly open. His eyelids flicker as he looks into my eyes. This, this is the one who will set your people free? Joy rises within me. We your people have waited so long. This baby so small will be our hope for years to come? My ribcage swells in jubilation. My aches are gone. I feel like dancing!

Now, Master, please, set me free. Let me come to you in peace. You have fulfilled your promise! Bless you, bless you, my God!

Consider/Discuss

God works miracles through the very old. Abraham and Sarah, Simeon and Anna—they were faithful for so many years. The Lord’s promises to them were fulfilled. How have you seen the beauty of God through eyes of those who have lived long?
God works miracles through the very young. The Holy Family is a sign of promise for years to come. How have you seen the beauty of God through the lives of those who are very young?

Living and Praying with the Word

God of the heavens, you asked Abram to count the stars, to trust you for descendants. You asked Simeon to trust that the Savior of the world would come. You ask us to trust that you do fulfill your promises. You came to us within a human family. So this day, we entrust our families and all those we love to you to hold and keep safe. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, pray for us!