Abstract
In a time of papal transitions, overseas wars, questions about the economy and social security? when the Church in the United States is still emerging from a disheartening three-year-old scandal, I have found that Catholics in the U.S. are clamoring for hope. Yet for the dominant culture in our country, hope remains a puzzling thing to wrap our heads around.
What we're good at is optimism. I write from California, the traditional American capital of "relentless optimism;' as the writer Richard Rodriguez put it. Here in California, Hollywood still counts on the happy ending as an American standard. But it goes beyond my home state. American folk wisdom is all about optimism. We say that "the early bird gets the worm;' that anyone can succeed given the right opportunity, that "the sun'll come out tomorrow," that there are no limits to what we can accomplish with American ingenuity, that "we have nothing to fear but fear itself." But let's face it, sometimes optimism comes down to wishful thinking.
But hope-hope is something quite different. It has more substance than optimism. As one of the three traditional theological virtues-faith, hope, and love-hope is said to be one of the things that lasts. It persists in a world sometimes compromised by shadows and illusions. It doesn't depend on the rosiness of today or tomorrow.
To the theologian Karl Rahner, hope was a grace-empowered "human hospitality for the divine guest;' a divinely enabled receptiveness to God. Practically I think of hope as that deep sense, whose source we rarely un understand_ or identify, that new things are always possible. It's to say, even in the middle of tragedy or struggle, this is not the end of the story. Hope 1s a deeply rooted openness to God's ability to act and change things. The temptation of course is to, take out the crystal ball and say which things God will change and where and when. But that turns hope into a guarantee. We effectively pose our plans and desires as God's plan-that kingdom of harmony and justice that Jesus promised.
What we're good at is optimism. I write from California, the traditional American capital of "relentless optimism;' as the writer Richard Rodriguez put it. Here in California, Hollywood still counts on the happy ending as an American standard. But it goes beyond my home state. American folk wisdom is all about optimism. We say that "the early bird gets the worm;' that anyone can succeed given the right opportunity, that "the sun'll come out tomorrow," that there are no limits to what we can accomplish with American ingenuity, that "we have nothing to fear but fear itself." But let's face it, sometimes optimism comes down to wishful thinking.
But hope-hope is something quite different. It has more substance than optimism. As one of the three traditional theological virtues-faith, hope, and love-hope is said to be one of the things that lasts. It persists in a world sometimes compromised by shadows and illusions. It doesn't depend on the rosiness of today or tomorrow.
To the theologian Karl Rahner, hope was a grace-empowered "human hospitality for the divine guest;' a divinely enabled receptiveness to God. Practically I think of hope as that deep sense, whose source we rarely un understand_ or identify, that new things are always possible. It's to say, even in the middle of tragedy or struggle, this is not the end of the story. Hope 1s a deeply rooted openness to God's ability to act and change things. The temptation of course is to, take out the crystal ball and say which things God will change and where and when. But that turns hope into a guarantee. We effectively pose our plans and desires as God's plan-that kingdom of harmony and justice that Jesus promised.
| Original language | American English |
|---|---|
| Pages (from-to) | 43-49 |
| Journal | Seattle Theology and Ministry Review |
| Volume | 5 |
| State | Published - Jan 1 2005 |
Disciplines
- Religion