Monday, March 10, 2014

First Sunday of Lent





March 9, 2014


Abraham hoped to be a great nation;
Peter hoped to stay on that happy hill forever.
The word Ahope@ has a nice sound: like the optimistic pop of a champagne cork.
But hope is a much headier brew than optimism.
Optimism is a frothy feeling that everything will be OK; hope is the firm conviction that this specific thing will happen.
Optimism is an over‑the‑counter placebo to make us think things will be fine;
hope is the prescription drug for some particular intention.
And what is that one thing hope calls us to?
In a word: God.

We humans alone are empowered to believe in God, hope in God, love God.
So, our deepest hope, our highest aspiration, is union with God.
Even if it takes some time to work itself into our conscious decisions.
As children, we know we should love God above all C but right now we prefer ice cream.
As youths, we know we should love God first C but right now we prefer Sam or Sally.
As adults, we know we should place God in the forefront of our desires Cbut right now we are more concerned with careers.
As parents, we know that God should be our final hope C but right now, our hope is invested in our children.
Our ultimate hope keeps getting put off in favor of more immediate desires.
All good things, but not the best thing.
As the Buddha says: AWe miss the glory because we are caught up in personal emotions.@

Hope is often portrayed as a passive position:
We just sit there and hope for something good to happen.
That is not hope C that is resignation.
Hope is a much more active stance toward life.
Augustine said that hope has two beautiful daughters:
anger at things that are wrong and courage to make them right.

So, although hope ultimately relies on God for its fulfillment, it depends on our own honest efforts for its immediate implementation.
It is important to note that Paul says we are Acalled@ to hope.
Hope does not push us; it pulls us.
Hope is not prodding, but attractive:
It draws us forward by its=s allure.

Amateur riders are told, that when they and their horse approach a frightening fence, they should just throw their heart over, then go after it.
Theologian Karl Rahner wrote: AHope is letting yourself go into God's uncontrollable future.@

A little risky, we might feel.
Especially after Yogi Berra cautions us that it is hard to make predictions, especially about the future.
Yet that is where our hope lies: ahead of us, just out of sight and almost out of reach.
We simply must throw our self in the air and hope someone catches us, like the circus aerialist who trusts that his catcher will be there.
If the flier tries to control things, reaches out or grabs too soon, the catcher will miss, and the flyer's hopes are dashed to the ground.
The catcher has to be in control C something like God C or the corporate venture fails.

As Browning wrote, AUnless our grasp is beyond our reach, then what's a heaven for?@
If all our hopes are within our own power to fulfill, then we never get outside of ourselves.
If we just have hope in ourselves, in our own abilities to get things done, then we are setting ourselves up for failure.
Hope just in ourselves can leave us lying alone, defeated, despairing.

Unlike hope in Christ, who draws all things to himself when he is lifted up.
And when we are lifted up in death, then hope has its way.
Our deathbed friends will have their hopes set on recovery.
But we are like migratory birds that are restless for the journey when they sense the time is near.
Our friends try to fend off the enemy of death by repeating a chant: AWhere there's life, there's hope.@
But death becomes our friend when we discover:
AWhere there's hope, there's life.@


No comments:

Post a Comment

Add