Cheers to Hope!
/“Always be prepared to give a reason for your hope.”
This line from Sunday’s Second Reading gave me pause. What is the reason for my hope? And, if I get really honest, do I always feel hopeful?
I do generally have hope, but it’s often buried under optimism, which is not the same thing, or pessimism, which works against hope. When I have a bad day and give in to despair, it’s hard to feel hopeful. On a good day, I might feel optimistic, but it’s not grounded in anything. As soon something difficult happens, my positive feelings crash and burn. I always recover, but it seems to me that optimism and hope are different things. Optimism is an attitude and a feeling, which is fleeting. Hope is more than a thought or a feeling, but what is it?
We’re not in Sunday School, but I’m going to throw in a little catechism anyway, just to remind myself what our faith teaches about hope. Hope, along with faith and charity, are theological virtues that are “infused by God into the souls of the faithful.” They are the “pledge of the presence and action of the Holy Spirit” (CCC 1813).* Hope, along with faith and charity, come from God. They orient us toward God and assure us that the Holy Spirit is present and acting within us. Hope in particular helps us to “trust in Christ’s promises,” not by relying on our own strength, but by “the grace of the Holy Spirit” (1817).
This makes me think of making a cocktail, which might seem weird, but just go with me for a second. Years ago, on a radio show called Amy’s Table, I heard an interview with a local mixologist.** She described how to make a simple syrup out of lavender and how to add it to a cocktail to infuse it with that flavor. The infusion didn’t take over the taste of the drink, but it added just a subtle note to every sip of it.
I’m not much into cocktails, but I think it’s an apt metaphor for the virtue of hope. I might think I’m drinking life straight up, but like a fancy cocktail, there’s a subtle infusion of hope that I taste with every sip I take. It might be indistinct at times, but it underlies every part of me. And God, the skillful mixologist, is the one who infuses hope into my soul. I find this deeply reassuring. If hope is a gift and not a feeling, something that comes from God and not from my own strength, I can trust that hope is somewhere in me even if I don’t feel it. I might cover it with other flavors, like discouragement, fear, worry, or self-reliance, but it doesn’t matter. Hope is still there, permeated all through me.
The Catechism goes on to say that “the virtue of hope responds to the aspiration to happiness which God has placed in the heart of every [person].” Hope keeps us from discouragement and sustains us during times of abandonment (1818). Sometimes things happen that make me unhappy, or I do things that make me unhappy, but that’s not God’s intention. God has placed within the human heart the longing to be happy. I’m guessing that longing is the same one that moves us toward God, who ultimately fulfills and sustains us. The gift of hope helps us to move in the direction of happiness. It pulls us toward the virtue of charity, too, because, like being close to God, being good to other people makes us happy (1818). This dynamic is at work in us right now. Even though we, along with most of the world, are suffering through the pandemic, God wants us to be happy. God made it so that we want to be happy. God has instilled within us the gift of hope, which moves us toward God, happiness, and care for each other.
Hope, like all the virtues, is a gift from God, so God is the reason for my hope. It’s not something we can manufacture within ourselves, and we don’t need to. God just gives it to us. I might not always taste it, but maybe I just need to refine my palate so I can identify the flavor of hope. Also, there are things I can do to stir up the hope that’s already within me. I can be kind to myself and others. I can reach out to someone else when I feel bad, or when they do. I can reach out to God who is always reaching out to me. I can do the small things that bring me joy. I can recognize that despair and anxiety don’t come from God and that when I drink those in, I’m not able to taste hope. It’s there, though. Underneath whatever I dump into my glass, hope is still there.
So, cheers to hope. May we open ourselves to it, drink it in, savor it, and enjoy this gift. Sláinte! Santé! Prost! To your health and to your hope!
What is the flavor of hope like for you?
What helps you notice the gift of hope? What makes you happy?
What covers up your hope or pulls you away from it? When hope feels far away, how do you stir it back up again?
* Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2nd ed., 1824-1818, accessed May 14, 2020, https://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/archive/catechism/p3s1c1a7.htm
** Amy's Table. Cincinnati, OH: WKRQ-FM, n.d. http://www.usccb.org/bible/1peter/3:15
By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP
Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She also serves on the Coordinating Council of Spiritual Directors International. She enjoys music, dancing, meaningful conversations, and lavender (maybe more in the garden than a drink).