In Barbara Kingsolver’s novel Animal Dreams, Hallie offers this advice to her struggling sister Cadie:
“The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof. What I want is so simple I almost can’t say it: elementary kindness. Enough to eat, enough to go around. The possibility that kids might one day grow up to be neither the destroyers nor the destroyed. That’s about it. Right now, I’m living in that hope, running down its hallway and touching the walls on both sides.”
As Christians we believe and live in the hope that death is not the last word. Such is the powerful message of this Easter season. It is that hope which enables us to move beyond our failures and sins. The hope that helps us to move beyond grief and despair.
The Apostle Paul in today’s reading confesses such hope in his trial before the Sanhedrin, hope in the resurrection of the dead.
The kindness that we offer others, the reconciliation we offer others, the care and support that we offer others; all are signs of hope, of Christ’s presence.
A famous composer was once asked this question: “If you knew you had to spend the rest of your days on a desert island, which of your four hundred compositions would you take with you?” “I’d take some blank paper,” he replied. “My favorite composition is always the one I will write tomorrow.” That’s the “look ahead” spirit of the Gospels: the challenge to live each day hopefully and creatively, whatever the circumstance of life.
So, what do you hope for? What hope do you live for? What do you dare imagining changing for the better?