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What do you think of when you hear the word “hope”? We use the word so casually: I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow. I hope the test results come back clear. I hope the Vikings win. I hope I win the lottery.
I had the privilege last week of traveling to Boston to lead a retreat for East Coast lay and ordained leaders of the Ecumenical Catholic Communion on the theme of hope. When I was invited a few months ago, my first thought was, Oh, beloved colleagues, you have the wrong person! I admit that many circumstances in our world have made me feel anything but hopeful.
But after some prayer and reflection, I came to see their invitation as a gift. I’d like to share what I learned with you. While my focus was “Christian hope,” you may see some parallels in the spiritual tradition in which you are grounded.
In Christian tradition, hope is one of three great theological virtues named by the Apostle Paul, along with faith and love (1 Corinthians 13:13). Christian hope is something deeper than just wishful thinking or blind optimism. It is not about denying the difficulties of life or burying our heads in the sand. It’s not the same as optimism, although the believer may feel optimistic. Optimism assumes that things will work out well, often based on probability, circumstances, or human effort. Christian hope, on the other hand, persists despite the evidence. It doesn’t rely on statistical likelihoods but is grounded trust rooted in the promises of God.
In a world marked by uncertainty, conflict, and personal struggle, hope is the steady heartbeat that keeps the Christian community animated and moving forward. It allows us to see beyond present suffering toward the horizon of God’s kingdom. The Letter to the Hebrews says it plainly: “We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul.” It’s a good image for Minnesotans. When the waves crash and the boat is tossed about, an anchor holds fast. In the same way, hope holds us fast in God’s promises, even when everything else seems to be slipping away.
Perhaps the pitfall I was in this summer was confusing hope with optimism. Optimism may falter in the face of hardship or tragedy. But hope says, “No matter how things unfold, God is still faithful.” Optimism depends on circumstances; hope trusts that no matter what the circumstances look like, God is with us.
For me, being in community is critical to remaining hopeful. Hope is a communal gift. St. Paul tells the Thessalonians, “Encourage one another and build one another up.” When one of us falters, another carries the light. We hope as a body.
That’s not to say it is always easy. Most of us who have lived for a while know what despair feels like. We’ve stood by hospital beds. We’ve lost jobs. We’ve said final goodbyes to people we love. We’ve felt the ache of broken relationships. We’ve watched the news and wondered if peace would ever come to war-ravaged places around the world.
Yet Christian hope dares to speak even here: “God will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more. Mourning and crying and pain will be no more,” says the author of the Book of Revelation. Holding each other, holding onto our faith, we keep our eyes fixed on a brighter future grounded in God’s promise.
Finally, Christians are called to remember that hope, as a virtue, is not passive. It doesn’t lie back and say, “Well, I don’t have to do anything. God will fix it.” Pope Francis puts it beautifully: hope calls us into courageous action, and he asked Christians to become “builders of hope.” Hope propels us into mission. It sends us to feed the hungry, visit the sick, welcome the stranger, and work for peace.
As Archbishop Desmond Tutu noted, “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” This week, I’m looking for the light.
Editor’s note: This column was written by the Rev. Trish Sullivan Vanni, Ph.D., pastoral director and priest of the Charis Ecumenical Catholic Community in Eden Prairie.
Interested in contributing a faith-based column to EPLN? Email editor@eplocalnews.org.