The true shape of Christian hope
…continued
30. Let us summarize what has emerged so far in the course of our reflections. Day by
day, man experiences many greater or lesser hopes, different in kind according to the
different periods of his life. Sometimes one of these hopes may appear to be totally
satisfying without any need for other hopes. Young people can have the hope of a great
and fully satisfying love; the hope of a certain position in their profession, or of some
success that will prove decisive for the rest of their lives. When these hopes are fulfilled,
however, it becomes clear that they were not, in reality, the whole. It becomes evident that
man has need of a hope that goes further. It becomes clear that only something infinite
will suffice for him, something that will always be more than he can ever attain. In this
regard our contemporary age has developed the hope of creating a perfect world that,
thanks to scientific knowledge and to scientifically based politics, seemed to be
achievable. Thus Biblical hope in the Kingdom of God has been displaced by hope in
the kingdom of man, the hope of a better world which would be the real “Kingdom of
God”. This seemed at last to be the great and realistic hope that man needs. It was
capable of galvanizing—for a time—all man's energies. The great objective seemed worthy
of full commitment. In the course of time, however, it has become clear that this hope is
constantly receding. Above all it has become apparent that this may be a hope for a
future generation, but not for me.
And however much “for all” may be part of the great hope—since I cannot be happy
without others or in opposition to them—it remains true that a hope that does not
concern me personally is not a real hope. It has also become clear that this hope is
opposed to freedom, since human affairs depend in each generation on the free
decisions of those concerned. If this freedom were to be taken away, as a result of
certain conditions or structures, then ultimately this world would not be good, since a
world without freedom can by no means be a good world. Hence, while we must always be
committed to the improvement of the world, tomorrow's better world cannot be the
proper and sufficient content of our hope. And in this regard the question always arises:
when is the world “better”? What makes it good? By what standard are we to judge its
goodness? What are the paths that lead to this “goodness”?
31. Let us say once again: we need the greater and lesser hopes that keep us going day
by day. But these are not enough without the great hope, which must surpass everything
else. This great hope can only be God, who encompasses the whole of reality and who
can bestow upon us what we, by ourselves, cannot attain. The fact that it comes to us as
a gift is actually part of hope. God is the foundation of hope: not any god, but the God
who has a human face and who has loved us to the end, each one of us and humanity in its
entirety. His Kingdom is not an imaginary hereafter, situated in a future that will never
arrive; his Kingdom is present wherever he is loved and wherever his love reaches us. His
love alone gives us the possibility of soberly persevering day by day, without ceasing to
be spurred on by hope, in a world which by its very nature is imperfect. His love is at the
same time our guarantee of the existence of what we only vaguely sense and which
nevertheless, in our deepest self, we await: a life that is “truly” life. Let us now, in the final
section, develop this idea in more detail as we focus our attention on some of the
“settings” in which we can learn in practice about hope and its exercise.
“Settings” for learning and practising hope
I. Prayer as a school of hope
32. A first essential setting for learning hope is prayer. When no one listens to me any
more, God still listens to me. When I can no longer talk to anyone or call upon anyone, I
can always talk to God. When there is no longer anyone to help me deal with a need or
expectation that goes beyond the human capacity for hope, he can help me[25]. When I
have been plunged into complete solitude ...; if I pray I am never totally alone. The late
Cardinal Nguyen Van Thuan, a prisoner for thirteen years, nine of them spent in
solitary confinement, has left us a precious little book: Prayers of Hope. During thirteen
years in jail, in a situation of seemingly utter hopelessness, the fact that he could listen
and speak to God became for him an increasing power of hope, which enabled him, after
his release, to become for people all over the world a witness to hope—to that great hope
which does not wane even in the nights of solitude.
33. Saint Augustine, in a homily on the First Letter of John, describes very beautifully
the intimate relationship between prayer and hope. He defines prayer as an exercise of
desire. Man was created for greatness—for God himself; he was created to be filled by
God. But his heart is too small for the greatness to which it is destined. It must be
stretched. “By delaying [his gift], God strengthens our desire; through desire he
enlarges our soul and by expanding it he increases its capacity [for receiving him]”.
Augustine refers to Saint Paul, who speaks of himself as straining forward to the things
that are to come (cf. Phil 3:13). He then uses a very beautiful image to describe this
process of enlargement and preparation of the human heart. “Suppose that God wishes
to fill you with honey [a symbol of God's tenderness and goodness]; but if you are full of
vinegar, where will you put the honey?” The vessel, that is your heart, must first be
enlarged and then cleansed, freed from the vinegar and its taste. This requires hard work
and is painful, but in this way alone do we become suited to that for which we are
destined[26]. Even if Augustine speaks directly only of our capacity for God, it is
nevertheless clear that through this effort by which we are freed from vinegar and the
taste of vinegar, not only are we made free for God, but we also become open to others.
It is only by becoming children of God, that we can be with our common Father. To pray
is not to step outside history and withdraw to our own private corner of happiness. When
we pray properly we undergo a process of inner purification which opens us up to God
and thus to our fellow human beings as well. In prayer we must learn what we can truly ask
of God—what is worthy of God. We must learn that we cannot pray against others. We
must learn that we cannot ask for the superficial and comfortable things that we desire at
this moment—that meagre, misplaced hope that leads us away from God. We must learn
to purify our desires and our hopes. We must free ourselves from the hidden lies with
which we deceive ourselves. God sees through them, and when we come before God, we
too are forced to recognize them.
Continue reading
Encylical “Saved In Hope”
Saved In Hope!
The true shape of Christian
hope
…continued
30. Let us summarize what has emerged so
far in the course of our reflections. Day by
day, man experiences many greater or lesser
hopes, different in kind according to the
different periods of his life. Sometimes one
of these hopes may appear to be totally
satisfying without any need for other hopes.
Young people can have the hope of a great
and fully satisfying love; the hope of a
certain position in their profession, or of
some success that will prove decisive for the
rest of their lives. When these hopes are
fulfilled, however, it becomes clear that they
were not, in reality, the whole. It becomes
evident that man has need of a hope that
goes further. It becomes clear that only
something infinite will suffice for him,
something that will always be more than he
can ever attain. In this regard our
contemporary age has developed the hope
of creating a perfect world that, thanks to
scientific knowledge and to scientifically
based politics, seemed to be achievable.
Thus Biblical hope in the Kingdom of God
has been displaced by hope in the kingdom
of man, the hope of a better world which
would be the real “Kingdom of God”. This
seemed at last to be the great and realistic
hope that man needs. It was capable of
galvanizing—for a time—all man's energies.
The great objective seemed worthy of full
commitment. In the course of time, however,
it has become clear that this hope is
constantly receding. Above all it has
become apparent that this may be a hope
for a future generation, but not for me.
And however much “for all” may be part of
the great hope—since I cannot be happy
without others or in opposition to them—it
remains true that a hope that does not
concern me personally is not a real hope. It
has also become clear that this hope is
opposed to freedom, since human affairs
depend in each generation on the free
decisions of those concerned. If this
freedom were to be taken away, as a result
of certain conditions or structures, then
ultimately this world would not be good,
since a world without freedom can by no
means be a good world. Hence, while we
must always be committed to the
improvement of the world, tomorrow's better
world cannot be the proper and sufficient
content of our hope. And in this regard the
question always arises: when is the world
“better”? What makes it good? By what
standard are we to judge its goodness?
What are the paths that lead to this
“goodness”?
31. Let us say once again: we need the
greater and lesser hopes that keep us going
day by day. But these are not enough
without the great hope, which must surpass
everything else. This great hope can only
be God, who encompasses the whole of
reality and who can bestow upon us what
we, by ourselves, cannot attain. The fact
that it comes to us as a gift is actually part
of hope. God is the foundation of hope:
not any god, but the God who has a human
face and who has loved us to the end, each
one of us and humanity in its entirety. His
Kingdom is not an imaginary hereafter,
situated in a future that will never arrive; his
Kingdom is present wherever he is loved
and wherever his love reaches us. His love
alone gives us the possibility of soberly
persevering day by day, without ceasing to
be spurred on by hope, in a world which by
its very nature is imperfect. His love is at the
same time our guarantee of the existence of
what we only vaguely sense and which
nevertheless, in our deepest self, we await: a
life that is “truly” life. Let us now, in the final
section, develop this idea in more detail as
we focus our attention on some of the
“settings” in which we can learn in practice
about hope and its exercise.
“Settings” for learning and practising hope
I. Prayer as a school of hope
32. A first essential setting for learning
hope is prayer. When no one listens to me
any more, God still listens to me. When I
can no longer talk to anyone or call upon
anyone, I can always talk to God. When
there is no longer anyone to help me deal
with a need or expectation that goes
beyond the human capacity for hope, he
can help me[25]. When I have been plunged
into complete solitude ...; if I pray I am never
totally alone. The late Cardinal Nguyen
Van Thuan, a prisoner for thirteen years,
nine of them spent in solitary confinement,
has left us a precious little book: Prayers of
Hope. During thirteen years in jail, in a
situation of seemingly utter hopelessness,
the fact that he could listen and speak to
God became for him an increasing power of
hope, which enabled him, after his release,
to become for people all over the world a
witness to hope—to that great hope which
does not wane even in the nights of solitude.
33. Saint Augustine, in a homily on the
First Letter of John, describes very
beautifully the intimate relationship
between prayer and hope. He defines
prayer as an exercise of desire. Man was
created for greatness—for God himself; he
was created to be filled by God. But his
heart is too small for the greatness to which
it is destined. It must be stretched. “By
delaying [his gift], God strengthens our
desire; through desire he enlarges our soul
and by expanding it he increases its
capacity [for receiving him]”. Augustine
refers to Saint Paul, who speaks of himself
as straining forward to the things that are to
come (cf. Phil 3:13). He then uses a very
beautiful image to describe this process of
enlargement and preparation of the human
heart. “Suppose that God wishes to fill
you with honey [a symbol of God's
tenderness and goodness]; but if you are
full of vinegar, where will you put the
honey?” The vessel, that is your heart, must
first be enlarged and then cleansed, freed
from the vinegar and its taste. This requires
hard work and is painful, but in this way
alone do we become suited to that for which
we are destined[26]. Even if Augustine
speaks directly only of our capacity for
God, it is nevertheless clear that through
this effort by which we are freed from
vinegar and the taste of vinegar, not only
are we made free for God, but we also
become open to others. It is only by
becoming children of God, that we can be
with our common Father. To pray is not to
step outside history and withdraw to our
own private corner of happiness. When we
pray properly we undergo a process of
inner purification which opens us up to God
and thus to our fellow human beings as well.
In prayer we must learn what we can truly
ask of God—what is worthy of God. We
must learn that we cannot pray against
others. We must learn that we cannot ask
for the superficial and comfortable things
that we desire at this moment—that meagre,
misplaced hope that leads us away from
God. We must learn to purify our desires
and our hopes. We must free ourselves from
the hidden lies with which we deceive
ourselves. God sees through them, and
when we come before God, we too are
forced to recognize them.
Continue reading
Encyclical "Saved In Hope"
Saved In Hope!
