BEND — “All serious and upright human conduct is hope in action” (“Spe Salvi,” 35).
This is a phrase which has been rattling around in my mind and heart for the past several weeks. There are many other passages in Pope Benedict’s encyclical which have produced a similar effect, but this one I find most enticing. I find in this passage a possible context for an examination of how one lives. Living in such a way that every element of our conduct is truly serious and upright is most definitely a challenge.
It is very easy to default to a mode of acting which is small, petty, self absorbed, borderline unethical, angry, conceited, deceitful and uncaring. None of these modes of acting could be described as “hope in action” but rather only as despair in practice. This, too, the Holy Father describes very well when he writes in the same paragraph indicated above: “Yet our daily efforts in pursuing our own lives and in working for the world’s future either tire us out or turn into fanaticism, unless we are enlightened by the radiance of the great hope that cannot be destroyed even by small-scale failures or by a breakdown in matters of historical importance.” Thus, the options seem to be frustration, fanaticism or hope in action. While all of us would like to believe that just about everything we engage ourselves in is, in fact, a kind of hope in action, such a glib conclusion should not be drawn too readily.
With the onset of Lent just one weekend away, which is nothing less than a season of hope looking forward to Easter, we could all perhaps benefit from a very simple and honest examen: In what way is this thought, word or deed of mine an expression of joyful, definitive hope in action?
I have found in my own life that there are things which I see both in society and even in some corners of the Church which I would like to see changed. We are in a hotly contested political year, and clashing values and ideologies give rise to hope but they also give rise to anger, frustration, backbiting and mean spiritedness. It can happen, in such a climate, that a variety of pressure groups spring into existence.
Unfortunately, unless they are somehow rooted in a “great hope that cannot be destroyed,” the anger out of which they were born may permanently pervade their efforts. This is not to say that these groups are all “bad” or “evil” or even misguided. In some ways the frustration and anger which is often expressed is a symptom of a hope defect. In very simple terms the syllogism would look something like this: I perceive that I need a certain thing, law, rule, product or concession in order for my life to be happy and meaningful. You are, in fact, blocking my access to that thing, law, rule, product or concession which I need. Therefore, in order for my life to be happy and meaningful I must get you to unblock my access to the thing I need.
There are, of course, a number of fallacies here. First of all, happiness is an inside job. It is not the product of external forces. Second, so often the things we think we “need” are really only things we “want” because of an essential emptiness which inhabits our lives. Third, even when access to the things we think we need is granted, we are still essentially unhappy and unfulfilled and doomed to search for yet another “essential product” still blocked from us by external forces. It is only when the “radiance of the great hope that cannot be destroyed” is inserted into this scene that it changes dramatically. Then “we become capable of the great hope, and thus we become ministers of hope for others,” not ministers of a limited and fleeting hope but ministers of authentic, truly Christian hope.
The weekend brought me to Madras and Warm Springs for confirmation and some of the weekend Masses. It is always good to be with the parishioners of the diocese. According to plan, the parishes closer to Bend have their confirmation dates set in February and March because of the increased possibility of inclement weather. That possibility became a reality this weekend with the blessing of five to six inches of gentle, yet moisture-laden snow. Fortunately, the snow was still quite fresh when I traveled home, and so I experienced no difficulties whatever.
Arriving home while it was still snowing gave me the opportunity to don the infrequently used snowshoes and take a bit of a stroll through Juniper Ridge immediately adjacent to my diocesan home. I would not go so far as to say that the snow transformed the gnarled junipers into “majestic” junipers, but it certainly created a marvelous scene through which to hike. The concrete realities of snow removal often preclude a genuine prayerful appreciation of the beauty of snow, but Juniper Ridge provided an opportunity for an anxiety free appreciation.
My Confirmation theme for the year rests very much on the encyclical of Christian hope about which I have been writing. The “glasses of hope” are not “rose colored glasses,” but they do put a slightly distinctive hue to the world and to the Gospels. For instance, this week the Gospel was the call and response of Peter and Andrew and James and John. Imagine the hope which must have arisen in their hearts as they heard the Lord call them, “Come, follow Me!”
That hope gave them courage to abandon their boats and their nets and set out on an adventure with Jesus of eternal proportions. They certainly did not know the whole journey at the outset, and they could not have accurately predicted where the journey would take them. What they sensed, however, and what they responded to, was the enlivening in their hearts of the “radiance of the great hope that cannot be destroyed.” Without that one great hope they could only have chosen to stay with their very limited hope, the hope to which they had been clinging from the days of their earliest memory, a hope in their nets, and in their boats, and in their fishing skills. Such hope was certainly adequate for their living, but it was insufficient for full life.
The variety of things upon which we set our hopes are likewise adequate for our living but woefully inadequate for full life.
