Posts Tagged ‘Despair’
Hoping Against Hope – Br. Curtis Almquist
Br. Curtis Almquist
1 Kings 17:8-16
Psalm 146
Mark 12:38-44
I’ve been thinking about Russian babushkas. This past week I have been visited with the memory of the old women of Russia, the Russian babushkas, lighting candles. Especially during those nearly 70 years of Soviet atheism, those faithful old women, wrinkled, kerchiefed, sometimes stooped and hobbling as they kept candles burning in abandoned churches and in little crèches at home. They were keeping a tiny light aflame amidst the carnage from what was being extinguished by the USSR. Lighting those candles was an agency of their resistance, an affirmation of their faith, and a claim on their hope. It was a profound example of “hoping against hope,” as Saint Paul says, these amazing women holding onto hope in the absence of any justification for hope: “hoping against hope.”[i] Very simple; very profound.
In the two scriptures appointed for our liturgy, it is the widows’ day. I am hearing these two stories from scripture also as expressions of hope. Our lesson from the First Book of Kings is one of those desperate stories about a widow and her son facing imminent starvation, with only the paltry amount of flour and drops of oil for their last supper. And we hear of the widow’s hope. Amidst such destitution and emptiness, she shares this ever-so-meager portion of food with the prophet Elijah with the hope that some provision would also happen for her and her son… a miracle indeed which happens in abundance. And then from the Gospel we have Jesus’ story about the poor widow who makes an offering of the tiniest copper coins, which for her is a treasure. This also is an act of hope for what shall come forth.[ii]
Hope is not a skill. Hope is not something we muster in our own souls. Hope is implanted into our very being at our birth. Hope is of our essence. We have been created in the image of God, who is the beginning and end of all hope. Our God of hope. Saint Paul’s description of hope is that hope “abides” in us; hope makes its home in us.[iii] Hope is there for keeps. In the New Testament, the metaphor used for hope is an anchor, an anchor to the soul, something that is sure and steadfast, even amidst the roiling tempests of life.[iv] The psalms speak repeatedly of hope in this same certain way: “For you are my hope, O LORD God, my confidence since I was young.”[v]
Several weeks ago I listened very compassionately to a young man who was desolate. With tears in his eyes, he spoke of how he had lost his way in life. It’s not that he had acted out in some egregious way; it’s that his life had become meaningless. He said, “I feel hopeless.” I asked him if he could tell me about hope? “No,” he said, “I have lost my hope.” He invited my response, and I replied, “But I don’t believe you.” I said he had not lost “his hope” because hope does not belong to him. Hope belongs to God. It is God’s hope. The source of hope is the God of hope. We will never lose hope. We can lose touch with hope or misplace our experience of hope, but hope is never lost. Hope abides with us, because hope is of God.
And then I told this man, much to his surprise, that he was actually experiencing a revelation of hope. I told him what I would say to you. If you feel hopeless, you have the memory of hope in the past. The memory is a sign that hope is alive in you. You remember hope; you have hope. “Shall we hunt for hope in your life?” I asked this man. He nodded, and so we set off on a search, because hope was already a word in his vocabulary, and already an experience in his life. We looked way backward in his life moving up into the present which, as we discovered, was full of miracles. Mostly tiny events stretching back to his childhood that have made all the difference: a passing comment someone had made to him; an unplanned and unwelcomed detour he had had to make; an addiction that nearly killed him which proved to be a to be a passageway into real life; doorways that were opened for him, and doorways not opened for various things along the way; an enemy who had become a cherished friend… On and on he spoke as he recollected the miracle of his life, which enlivened his sense of hope for the future.
And you? Do that! I suggest you try that yourself. The groundswell of hope for the present is to be found in the experience of your past… how you have maybe-impossibly survived and, I trust, have thrived. The seeds of hope in your life were planted in your soul in your birth, and those seeds want to grow… which requires your attention. Reclaim, retrieve, recover the miracle – the miracles – of your life which will germinate the seed of hope planted into your soul from the very beginning..
For many people, this may be very important to do now. The results of last Tuesday’s election have been desolating for some people. Like the extinguishing of light in their souls. “How can this be?” they may ask; you may ask. What good can come from this? Very, very difficult for some. Not difficult for all. Clearly not for half our population: one half jubilant; one half desolate. And on both sides of the divide there are many professing Christians, as we know.
Momentarily we will be invited to pray the Lord’s Prayer, the prayer Jesus taught to his very fractious, partisan disciples. Jesus’ opening pronoun is all inclusive: “Our father,” he prays. And then Jesus presumes there will be breakdowns amongst us when he prays, “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who have sinned against us.” Very sobering words; confronting; inviting. If you elect to join in this prayer this morning, call to mind not just yourself, but also the offending other people whom you imprison in your heart. “Forgive us,” Jesus teaches. “Forgive us our sins.” Forgiveness opens the prison door of resentment, and will enliven hope in your heart.
Going back to the opening pronoun of Jesus’ prayer, “Our” – “Our father” – you might need the help of others to be able to reclaim hope. I am finding it inspiring, humbling, helpful, hopeful to be reading the experience of African Americans, going back to accounts written when slavery was legalized, during the Jim Crow era, and up to the present. There was and is so much appalling suffering and injustice, and, in the midst of it, so much of the inspiration of hope in testimonials, in biographies, and in hymnody and spirituals. You also may find a help and a claim to hope in listening to others, others who are “other” than you are, and who are living in hope. They are in the media and online. They are also our neighbors. Pursue opportunities to listen to others in real time. Ask them a simple, inviting question such as, “Where do find hope?” and then listen.
You might find this very challenging time in which we are living – and by “we” I mean many here in the States but all around the world – to re-open your theology. Jesus lived in a culture and at a time which was shot with injustice and discrimination. Look again at Jesus’ work and words through the lens of egregious political and religious injustice and persecution. And the same for Saint Paul, who was repeatedly tried and jailed unjustly, and who died by capital punishment. It was Saint Paul who wrote as he faced his own death: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”[vi] Re-theologize!
And lastly, to return to the witness of the Russian babushkas, what might be that for you? What practice could you incorporate into the rhythm of your day which is a reminder, both to yourself and a witness to others, about hope. Is it lighting candles? Is it helping in some way to lift someone up? Is it praying your heart out for those who suffer, especially those who capture your heart’s attention? Is it practicing unbridled kindness? The words kindness and kinship come from the same etymological root. We belong to one another. We are kin. Kindness goes a long way in bridging and healing the gap that divides.
Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.” Reclaim the gift of hope God has given you.
[i] Romans 4:18.
[ii] Mark 12:38-44.
[iii] 1 Corinthians 13:13.
[iv] Hebrews 6:19.
[v] Psalm 71:5.
[vi] Romans 15:13.
Where do they get their strength from – Br. Geoffrey Tristram
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Br. Geoffrey Tristram
I was talking with a friend recently about the situation in the Middle East, and he said he felt so much darkness right now that he found it hard to know how to deal with it. I knew exactly what he meant. You may feel it too, overwhelmed by the images of violence, death and destruction. How do you pray, what words of prayer do you use, how do you focus your love amidst such images? How do you remain faithful and hopeful? For me, I have tried to focus on individual families who I have read about, and prayed for them by name. I have read about individuals who have shown extraordinary bravery, resilience and self-sacrificial love; mothers with their children who have lost everything but hope. Where do they get this hope, this strength? God bless them.
Munther Isaac is a Palestinian theologian and he’s the pastor of the Lutheran Christmas Church in Bethlehem. He gave an interview last week which greatly moved me. He said, ‘When I talk to my friends in Gaza I have no idea how they are surviving. It is really hell on earth there. What kind of strength do these people have, and where do they get it?’ The same question may be asked of those Israelis, whose loved ones are still being held as hostages. What an excruciating time of waiting and hoping. Where do they get their strength? Or of those Lebanese whose homes have been destroyed, and loved ones bombed. ‘What kind of strength do these people have and where do they get it?’
Munther Isaac goes on to say, ‘I am convinced that people undergoing harsh realities experience God in a more real way than we can imagine. We hear it from those pulled from the rubble, who still say, “We thank you God. We rest our case before God”. The faith they exhibit in God is so strong’, he says. ‘We pray for deliverance, but the Bible doesn’t promise deliverance. It promises that God will be with us.’ Read More
The Good News of Hope – Br. James Koester
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I know that I have told this story before, but I’ll tell it again, partly for those who have not heard it, but mostly because tonight there is a significant point to it.
Years ago, as a young priest, and new to the practice of preaching on a regular basis, two members of my congregation approached me one Sunday after church. They were puzzled by something and wanted to ask me a question. Both Robin and Ann came from the Baptist tradition, and they had a concern about the lectionary. What would happen, they asked, if I felt it important to preach from a different passage of Scripture, than the one assigned by the lectionary. Would I be free, they wondered, to change the reading, or preach from a different text?
Nearly 40 years later, I can’t remember what I said in reply. I do remember the question. It has stuck with me all these years, and keeps cropping up every so often. Today, if one of you were to ask me the same question, I know exactly how I would answer.
The question, for me at least, is not what I would do if I felt it important to preach from a different passage, than the one assigned by the lectionary. The question for me is, what do I do when the lectionary points me in a direction I might not choose to go in, or would prefer to avoid? Because that’s the case tonight. If it were up to me, the gift and promise of hope is not something I’d gravitate to at this particular time. Yet tonight, of all nights we hear, in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.[1] Read More
Palm Sunday, a melodrama ignored… or not? – Br. Curtis Almquist
Br. Curtis Almquist
What’s in the news? What political calamity is happening? On the cusp of Palm Sunday, what garners the attention of the general public is not Jesus, but rather the reports from various sources about all the political machinations – who is in and who is not – and the endless conflicts between various camps. Meanwhile the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. Truth be told, Palm Sunday hardly gets noticed by most people, including the Roman and Jewish authorities.
I’m talking here about the original Palm Sunday, two thousand years ago. What garners the attention of the general public is not Jesus, but rather the reports from various sources about all the political machinations – who is in and who is not – and the endless conflicts between various camps. Meanwhile the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. Truth be told, Palm Sunday hardly gets noticed by most people, including the Roman and Jewish authorities. Read More
When God Destroys – Br. Lucas Hall
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Luke 19:41-44
Eight years ago this month is when my conversion started. Sort of. “Conversion” begins at each person’s beginning, and ends somewhere between here and eternity. But eight years ago, I was 19, and not terribly interested in someone dressed as I am right now sagely dismissing my crisis.
I had reached a breaking point. I was out in the middle of the night, wandering the college campus, anxious and confused. I’d had a basically hostile attitude toward religion for several years, but my own sense of being, of purpose, the great “why?” echoing along the canyon walls of human hearts…my old answers just weren’t working anymore. I could no longer justify my existence through my own happiness, because why should I care about my own happiness? Everything was empty, and death was not far from my thoughts.
Out of desperation, I prayed. To no one, or anyone, I prayed. I tearfully offered my uncertainty, my instability, my weakness, hoping for something to alleviate it. Some assurance from heaven, whoever’s version of it existed. And what I got was…nothing. No warmth, no light, no angelsong. Cold, dark, silent nothing. But this Nothing was greater, more powerful, than anything I’d experienced up until that point. I felt broken. I felt destroyed. I felt like a demolished city, burnt to the ground. And it was horrifying. And it was good. Because the abject admission of weakness and vulnerability I encountered in this experience was the great clearing of the brush, the great pouring out of old and perishing things. I was shattered, and I was made new.
Read MoreFinding Hope in Despair – Br. David Vryhof
Isaiah 11:1-10
In the minds of many, we in America are living in an era of increased hopelessness. Many of us are experiencing a level of despair beyond anything we have ever felt before. The reasons for this sense of despair are many:
The gap between the wealthy and powerful and the needy and poor seems to widen year by year, in our country and in the world at large. Many of our citizens lack job security, health care, and a live-able wage. They face an uncertain future, while others have the power to indulge themselves in luxury and waste.
Racial, cultural and gender inequality still plague our society, despite long and hard-fought battles for civil rights, equality and justice.
Climate change threatens the earth and puts countless people at risk, and yet ours is the only country in the world to exempt itself from the planet-preserving recommendations of the Paris Climate Agreement.
Our political system seems to be dominated more and more by people of extraordinary wealth and privilege. Our leaders are hampered by rigid partisanship and cannot seem to agree on the common good. Those in power seem consumed with maintaining their power at all costs. As columnist Jeff Kirkpatrick notes, “Power supersedes morality, ethics, national security, logic, reason and sanity” in America right now.[i] Read More
Hannah’s Prayer – Br. David Vryhof
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I Samuel 1:1-20
We brothers are sometimes given the privilege of being in the company of people who are willing to share with us their pain. No doubt many of you have been given this privilege as well. I say this is a privilege because it is an occasion to be with someone in a moment of great vulnerability. They are revealing themselves to us with great transparency, admitting their poverty, allowing us to see and touch their deepest wounds, inviting us to share with them the painful losses, disappointments or unfulfilled longings that have broken and shattered their hearts. We sit in awe before them, feeling a sense of wonder at their courage, their perseverance, and their desire to find God in this place of pain.
We are being given that privilege tonight, as we hear and ponder the story of Hannah. We should approach her story with awe, cherishing the privilege of witnessing her vulnerability and her courage. Read More