Pope Francis is fond of calling Advent “a journey toward the horizon of hope.”
This hope, he said, does not disappoint “simply because the Lord never disappoints!” He is referencing St. Paul’s words to the Romans: “[H]ope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us” (Romans 5:5).
Advent is rightly characterized as the “season of hope,” but perhaps not for the reason one might expect. Many Christians think of Advent as a preparation to celebrate Christmas, commemorating the birth of Christ. But that’s only half correct: Advent is also a time to reflect on the ultimate purpose of His coming: our redemption, our hope of eternal happiness in heaven that Christ promised to us if only we turn away from sin, accept His gift of mercy, and remain His faithful disciples until our earthly lives come to an end.
This hope ought to transform our perspective, change how we live, and sustain us through life’s difficulties, because we know where our perseverance in faith will lead us.
“The dark door of time, of the future, has been thrown open,” Pope Benedict XVI wrote in his 2007 encyclical Spe Salvi (“Saved in Hope”). “The one who has hope lives differently; the one who hopes has been granted the gift of a new life.”
In an Advent column published in the Southern Nebraska Register, Bishop James Conley of Lincoln, NE, said that through this hope of redemption “we know that God’s love for us brings us the deepest meaning and purpose to our existence — that how we live in this world can bring us into eternal happiness with God, no matter what happens to us.
“In hope, we know that this world is fleeting,” said Bishop Conley, “and that real and lasting joy awaits in the Lord’s promise of our salvation.”
Avoiding the pitfalls
Hope, as one of the theological virtues, is closely allied with faith and love: if we have a well-formed faith and trust in God’s love, our hope of salvation should be strong. The Catechism warns of the pitfalls that exist should one have a deficit, or an excess, of hope.
If we fear we have sinned so gravely or so habitually that we cannot be forgiven or cannot repent even with the help of grace, we commit the sin of despair. In essence, despair represents a lack of trust in God’s love and mercy toward us, a failure to believe that Christ is faithful to his promises, and an attachment to earthly things.
“Letting the world frustrate us is one of the greatest signs of a weakness in the virtue of hope, and the Church commends us the practice of acts of hope to help us grow in this virtue,” said Fr. Justin Braun, director of youth formation for the St. Philip Institute of Catechesis and Evangelization in Tyler, Texas, in a commentary published in Catholic East Texas. “Despair is not the cry of the Christian, but rather the empty gasp of a man who is tethered to this world and has lost sight of his eternal home.”
The other sin, which might be characterized as a confidence that goes beyond hope, is that of presumption. This sin presumes that God is so loving and merciful that heaven is assured, and so we have no need for repentance or growth in virtue. Presumption can also be manifest as self-reliance, a belief that we can overcome sin by our own power without seeking God’s grace through prayer and the sacraments.
The failure to recognize presumption in our life is a sin against the virtue of hope, against the commandment to love God above all else, because in reality we are in love with ourselves,” said Fr. Braun.
'People of the beatitudes'
The Catechism of the Catholic Church offers further insights into the source of our hope and what it calls us to do — how, in Pope Benedict’s words, we are to “live differently.”
“Christian hope unfolds from the beginning of Jesus’ preaching and the proclamation of the Beatitudes,” the Catechism teaches. “The Beatitudes raise our hope toward heaven as the new Promised Land; they trace the path that leads through the trials that await the disciples of Jesus” (CCC 1820).
If we are to be Christians with real hope, then, “We need to be people of the beatitudes.”
The beatitudes expressed by Jesus in his Sermon on the Mount promise that those will be “blessed” who are poor in spirit, who mourn, who are meek, who hunger and thirst for righteousness, who are merciful, who are pure of heart, who are peacemakers, and who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, or who are persecuted and slandered for their faith in Christ (Matt 5:1-12). The beatitudes, in a word, are countercultural, focused on the kingdom of heaven rather than the kingdom of this world.
In his address to young people during welcoming ceremonies at the 17th World Youth Day in Toronto in 2002, Pope John Paul II said the beatitudes “are the road map that show the way” along the “uphill path” on the journey to true happiness.
The beatitudes “describe what a Christian should be,” Pope John Paul said, by presenting a portrait of a disciple of Christ, those who “have accepted the Kingdom of God and want their life to be in tune with the demands of the Gospel.”
The pope explained that Christ’s promise of being “blessed,” his promise of joy through living the beatitudes, “is the very joy of Jesus himself: a joy sought and found in obedience to the Father and in the gift of self to others.
Through the beatitudes, Jesus “calls you to be the salt and light of the world, to choose goodness, to live in justice, to become instruments of love and peace,” he said. “His call has always demanded a choice between good and evil, between light and darkness, between life and death.”
“If you are the people of the beatitudes,” the pope said, “you will be happy.”
Hope, joy... and persecution?
Maintaining that happiness and hope in the face of suffering and persecution
— something Christ said would happen to his disciples — presents a particular challenge.
“At a human level, to be blessed for being persecuted seems an empty message: How can suffering, being cursed and ill-treated, losing friends, job opportunities, and even family be a good?” said Fr. Braun in his essay.
But the words of Jesus and St. Paul in Scripture remind us to remain patient and joyful even as we experience suffering and misfortune. And that is possible only if we stay mindful that our ultimate “blessedness” is not in this life, but in the life to come.
“Patience amid tribulation is a sure source of joy and is manifestly the fruit of hope,” Fr. Braun said.
Among the great modern exponents on the virtue of hope was Cardinal Nguyen Van Thuan, who was declared venerable by Pope Francis in 2017.
In 1975, then-Bishop Van Thuan was traveling to Saigon, Vietnam, a few days after the U.S. military pullout when he was arrested and imprisoned by the communist government. He spent 13 years incarcerated, nine of these in solitary confinement. During that time, he would write brief encouraging messages on scraps of paper that were smuggled out of the prison and distributed
to bring hope to his persecuted Catholic community. These reflections later were published in a volume titled The Road of Hope: A Gospel from Prison.
Pope Benedict wrote of Bishop Van Thuan in Spe Salvi.
“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,” the pope wrote.
One of Bishop Van Thuan’s reflections capsulizes the spirit of Advent hope for the “people of the beatitudes” even amid the trials and struggles of our present life:
“In the midst of hardships, oppression, deception, and injustice, stand firm and proclaim with the whole People of God: ‘He shall come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.’”
GERALD KORSON, editorial consultant for Legatus magazine, is based in Indiana.