Saved In Hope!
ENCYCLICAL LETTER
SPE SALVI
OF THE SUPREME PONTIFF
BENEDICT XVI
TO THE BISHOPS
PRIESTS AND DEACONS
MEN AND WOMEN RELIGIOUS
AND ALL THE LAY FAITHFUL
ON CHRISTIAN HOPE
Introduction
1. “SPE SALVI facti sumus”—in hope we were saved, says Saint Paul to the
Romans, and likewise to us (Rom 8:24). According to the Christian faith,
“redemption”—salvation—is not simply a given. Redemption is offered to us in the sense
that we have been given hope, trustworthy hope, by virtue of which we can face our
present: the present, even if it is arduous, can be lived and accepted if it leads towards a
goal, if we can be sure of this goal, and if this goal is great enough to justify the effort of
the journey. Now the question immediately arises: what sort of hope could ever justify
the statement that, on the basis of that hope and simply because it exists, we are
redeemed? And what sort of certainty is involved here?
Faith is Hope
2. Before turning our attention to these timely questions, we must listen a little more
closely to the Bible's testimony on hope. “Hope”, in fact, is a key word in Biblical
faith—so much so that in several passages the words “faith” and “hope” seem
interchangeable. Thus the Letter to the Hebrews closely links the “fullness of faith”
(10:22) to “the confession of our hope without wavering” (10:23). Likewise, when the
First Letter of Peter exhorts Christians to be always ready to give an answer
concerning the logos—the meaning and the reason—of their hope (cf. 3:15), “hope” is
equivalent to “faith”. We see how decisively the self-understanding of the early
Christians was shaped by their having received the gift of a trustworthy hope, when we
compare the Christian life with life prior to faith, or with the situation of the followers of
other religions. Paul reminds the Ephesians that before their encounter with Christ
they were “without hope and without God in the world” (Eph 2:12). Of course he knew
they had had gods, he knew they had had a religion, but their gods had proved
questionable, and no hope emerged from their contradictory myths. Notwithstanding
their gods, they were “without God” and consequently found themselves in a dark
world, facing a dark future. In nihil ab nihilo quam cito recidimus (How quickly we fall
back from nothing to nothing): 1 so says an epitaph of that period. In this phrase we see
in no uncertain terms the point Paul was making. In the same vein he says to the
Thessalonians: you must not “grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Th 4:13).
Here too we see as a distinguishing mark of Christians the fact that they have a future:
it is not that they know the details of what awaits them, but they know in general terms
that their life will not end in emptiness. Only when the future is certain as a positive
reality does it become possible to live the present as well. So now we can say:
Christianity was not only “good news”—the communication of a hitherto unknown
content. In our language we would say: the Christian message was not only
“informative” but “performative”. That means: the Gospel is not merely a
communication of things that can be known—it is one that makes things happen and is
life-changing. The dark door of time, of the future, has been thrown open. The one
who has hope lives differently; the one who hopes has been granted the gift of a new
life.
3. Yet at this point a question arises: in what does this hope consist which, as hope, is
“redemption”? The essence of the answer is given in the phrase from the Letter to the
Ephesians quoted above: the Ephesians, before their encounter with Christ, were
without hope because they were “without God in the world”. To come to know
God—the true God—means to receive hope. We who have always lived with the
Christian concept of God, and have grown accustomed to it, have almost ceased to
notice that we possess the hope that ensues from a real encounter with this God. The
example of a saint of our time can to some degree help us understand what it means to
have a real encounter with this God for the first time. I am thinking of the African
Josephine Bakhita, canonized by Pope John Paul II. She was born around 1869—she
herself did not know the precise date—in Darfur in Sudan. At the age of nine, she was
kidnapped by slave-traders, beaten till she bled, and sold five times in the slave-markets
of Sudan. Eventually she found herself working as a slave for the mother and the wife
of a general, and there she was flogged every day till she bled; as a result of this she
bore 144 scars throughout her life. Finally, in 1882, she was bought by an Italian
merchant for the Italian consul Callisto Legnani, who returned to Italy as the Mahdists
advanced. Here, after the terrifying “masters” who had owned her up to that point,
Bakhita came to know a totally different kind of “master”—in Venetian dialect, which
she was now learning, she used the name “paron” for the living God, the God of Jesus
Christ. Up to that time she had known only masters who despised and maltreated her,
or at best considered her a useful slave. Now, however, she heard that there is a
“paron” above all masters, the Lord of all lords, and that this Lord is good, goodness in
person. She came to know that this Lord even knew her, that he had created her—that
he actually loved her. She too was loved, and by none other than the supreme “Paron”,
before whom all other masters are themselves no more than lowly servants. She was
known and loved and she was awaited. What is more, this master had himself accepted
the destiny of being flogged and now he was waiting for her “at the Father's right hand”.
Now she had “hope” —no longer simply the modest hope of finding masters who would
be less cruel, but the great hope: “I am definitively loved and whatever happens to me—I
am awaited by this Love. And so my life is good.” Through the knowledge of this hope
she was “redeemed”, no longer a slave, but a free child of God. She understood what
Paul meant when he reminded the Ephesians that previously they were without hope
and without God in the world—without hope because without God. Hence, when she
was about to be taken back to Sudan, Bakhita refused; she did not wish to be
separated again from her “Paron”. On 9 January 1890, she was baptized and
confirmed and received her first Holy Communion from the hands of the Patriarch of
Venice. On 8 December 1896, in Verona, she took her vows in the Congregation of
the Canossian Sisters and from that time onwards, besides her work in the sacristy and
in the porter's lodge at the convent, she made several journeys round Italy in order to
promote the missions: the liberation that she had received through her encounter with
the God of Jesus Christ, she felt she had to extend, it had to be handed on to others,
to the greatest possible number of people. The hope born in her which had “redeemed”
her she could not keep to herself; this hope had to reach many, to reach everybody.
eontinue reading
Encylical “Saved In Hope”
Saved In Hope!
Encyclical "Saved In Hope"
ENCYCLICAL LETTER
SPE SALVI
OF THE SUPREME PONTIFF
BENEDICT XVI
TO THE BISHOPS
PRIESTS AND DEACONS
MEN AND WOMEN RELIGIOUS
AND ALL THE LAY FAITHFUL
ON CHRISTIAN HOPE
Introduction
1. “SPE SALVI facti sumus”—in hope we
were saved, says Saint Paul to the Romans,
and likewise to us (Rom 8:24). According
to the Christian faith,
“redemption”—salvation—is not simply a
given. Redemption is offered to us in the
sense that we have been given hope,
trustworthy hope, by virtue of which we can
face our present: the present, even if it is
arduous, can be lived and accepted if it
leads towards a goal, if we can be sure of
this goal, and if this goal is great enough to
justify the effort of the journey. Now the
question immediately arises: what sort of
hope could ever justify the statement that,
on the basis of that hope and simply
because it exists, we are redeemed? And
what sort of certainty is involved here?
Faith is Hope
2. Before turning our attention to these
timely questions, we must listen a little more
closely to the Bible's testimony on hope.
“Hope”, in fact, is a key word in Biblical
faith—so much so that in several passages
the words “faith” and “hope” seem
interchangeable. Thus the Letter to the
Hebrews closely links the “fullness of faith”
(10:22) to “the confession of our hope
without wavering” (10:23). Likewise, when
the First Letter of Peter exhorts
Christians to be always ready to give an
answer concerning the logos—the meaning
and the reason—of their hope (cf. 3:15),
“hope” is equivalent to “faith”. We see how
decisively the self-understanding of the
early Christians was shaped by their having
received the gift of a trustworthy hope,
when we compare the Christian life with life
prior to faith, or with the situation of the
followers of other religions. Paul reminds
the Ephesians that before their encounter
with Christ they were “without hope and
without God in the world” (Eph 2:12). Of
course he knew they had had gods, he knew
they had had a religion, but their gods had
proved questionable, and no hope emerged
from their contradictory myths.
Notwithstanding their gods, they were
“without God” and consequently found
themselves in a dark world, facing a dark
future. In nihil ab nihilo quam cito recidimus
(How quickly we fall back from nothing to
nothing): 1 so says an epitaph of that
period. In this phrase we see in no uncertain
terms the point Paul was making. In the same
vein he says to the Thessalonians: you
must not “grieve as others do who have no
hope” (1 Th 4:13). Here too we see as a
distinguishing mark of Christians the fact
that they have a future: it is not that they
know the details of what awaits them, but
they know in general terms that their life will
not end in emptiness. Only when the future
is certain as a positive reality does it
become possible to live the present as well.
So now we can say: Christianity was not
only “good news”—the communication of a
hitherto unknown content. In our language
we would say: the Christian message was
not only “informative” but “performative”.
That means: the Gospel is not merely a
communication of things that can be
known—it is one that makes things happen
and is life-changing. The dark door of time,
of the future, has been thrown open. The
one who has hope lives differently; the one
who hopes has been granted the gift of a
new life.
3. Yet at this point a question arises: in
what does this hope consist which, as hope,
is “redemption”? The essence of the
answer is given in the phrase from the
Letter to the Ephesians quoted above: the
Ephesians, before their encounter with
Christ, were without hope because they
were “without God in the world”. To come
to know God—the true God—means to
receive hope. We who have always lived with
the Christian concept of God, and have
grown accustomed to it, have almost ceased
to notice that we possess the hope that
ensues from a real encounter with this God.
The example of a saint of our time can to
some degree help us understand what it
means to have a real encounter with this
God for the first time. I am thinking of the
African Josephine Bakhita, canonized by
Pope John Paul II. She was born around
1869—she herself did not know the precise
date—in Darfur in Sudan. At the age of
nine, she was kidnapped by slave-traders,
beaten till she bled, and sold five times in
the slave-markets of Sudan. Eventually
she found herself working as a slave for the
mother and the wife of a general, and there
she was flogged every day till she bled; as a
result of this she bore 144 scars throughout
her life. Finally, in 1882, she was bought by
an Italian merchant for the Italian consul
Callisto Legnani, who returned to Italy as
the Mahdists advanced. Here, after the
terrifying “masters” who had owned her up
to that point, Bakhita came to know a
totally different kind of “master”—in
Venetian dialect, which she was now
learning, she used the name “paron” for the
living God, the God of Jesus Christ. Up
to that time she had known only masters
who despised and maltreated her, or at best
considered her a useful slave. Now,
however, she heard that there is a “paron”
above all masters, the Lord of all lords, and
that this Lord is good, goodness in person.
She came to know that this Lord even knew
her, that he had created her—that he
actually loved her. She too was loved, and
by none other than the supreme “Paron”,
before whom all other masters are
themselves no more than lowly servants.
She was known and loved and she was
awaited. What is more, this master had
himself accepted the destiny of being
flogged and now he was waiting for her “at
the Father's right hand”. Now she had
“hope” —no longer simply the modest hope
of finding masters who would be less cruel,
but the great hope: “I am definitively loved
and whatever happens to me—I am awaited
by this Love. And so my life is good.”
Through the knowledge of this hope she
was “redeemed”, no longer a slave, but a
free child of God. She understood what
Paul meant when he reminded the
Ephesians that previously they were
without hope and without God in the
world—without hope because without God.
Hence, when she was about to be taken
back to Sudan, Bakhita refused; she did
not wish to be separated again from her
“Paron”. On 9 January 1890, she was
baptized and confirmed and received her
first Holy Communion from the hands of
the Patriarch of Venice. On 8 December
1896, in Verona, she took her vows in the
Congregation of the Canossian Sisters
and from that time onwards, besides her
work in the sacristy and in the porter's
lodge at the convent, she made several
journeys round Italy in order to promote the
missions: the liberation that she had
received through her encounter with the
God of Jesus Christ, she felt she had to
extend, it had to be handed on to others, to
the greatest possible number of people.
The hope born in her which had
“redeemed” her she could not keep to
herself; this hope had to reach many, to
reach everybody. eontinue reading
Saved In Hope!
Encyclical "Saved In Hope"
