A Seasonal Reflection on Hope
"I hope I get the job I applied for." "I hope my mother's surgery goes well." "I hope I don't catch the flu this year." "I hope I can be reconciled with my friend with whom I've had a painful breakup." "I hope my sister wins her court case." In our day to day lives, we usually express hope in regard to something that appears to have a reasonable chance or at least a real possibility of fulfillment, based on previous experience or observation.
During the Christmas season, however, we express hope for things that go far beyond our own personal needs and desires—things of such magnitude that, in fact, we never have observed or experienced them as being fulfilled. We hope for world peace, for justice for all peoples; for an end to poverty, homelessness and hunger both at home and abroad; for an end to violence, abuse and oppression. Does it really make any sense to hope for such things in light of what we see and experience in our world everyday? Are we just indulging in pious, romantic daydreams? What is the basis for such hopes, and why do they come to the forefront especially during the Christmas season? Indeed, why do we speak of Advent and Christmas as the "season of hope"?
Christmas commemorates and celebrates the coming of God among us as one of us in the person of Jesus Christ. We name this God who walked the earth in our flesh, Emmanuel, God-with-us. What is truly amazing is that God did not come among us in power and glory, but came into this world as we do—fragile, vulnerable, helpless and needy. So why is this a basis for hope? Because, by entering into our world, and assuming our humanity fully and completely, God has infused humanity and the whole of creation with divine life, love, goodness and power. In the incarnation, the distinction between sacred and secular, between what is holy and what is of the earth, is abolished. All creation exists in God, and God's life permeates all that exists.
But here's the catch: God is love—nothing else—not "power over," not manipulation, control, intimidation, force or violence—just love. And freedom both in giving and receiving is intrinsic to love, by its very nature and definition. Love is the greatest power that exists, able to accomplish things that no amount of force or violence could ever bring about. But love is also powerless in that it must wait on the free consent of those in whom it abides, those to whom it beckons. This is the paradox symbolized by the manger—the power and powerlessness of our God, Emmanuel and the fusing of human and divine hope.Christmas is a season of hope for both ourselves and God. Our hope is rooted in the boundless love of God—a love that is powerful beyond our wildest imagining. And God's hope, rooted in the divine love that constitutes the true essence of every human being, is that we will respond to and participate in that divine love.
And we have all experienced the wonder and power of human and divine hope becoming one and finding fulfillment through love in both large and small events of daily life: in the outpouring of relief to countries devastated by natural disasters, in the phone call of a friend just when I needed it, in peace accords reached in countries torn by decades of civil war, in a project turning out well despite numerous problems and setbacks. Christmas thus challenges us: To what extent have we said 'yes' to God's hope for us? What are we willing to risk and to sacrifice in order to truly incarnate God's love in and for our world? How do we embody divine and human hope in our daily lives—the hope we renew and celebrate each Christmas season.