The Gift of Hope

A Reflection on the First Reading for July 31st, 2022:
​Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Ecclesiastes
1.2; 2.21-23

Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher,
vanity of vanities! All is vanity.

Sometimes one who had toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill
must leave it all to be enjoyed by another
who did not toil for it. 
This also is a vanity and a great evil.

What does a person get from all their toil and strain,
their toil under the sun?
for their days are full of pain,
and their work a vexation;
even at night their mind does not rest.
This is all vanity.

I’ve written about hope here before: about misplaced hope, and the virtue of true hope. I admit, this now seems rather neat and tidy – as if exercising true hope is something as simple as choosing to do so.  Since the time that piece was written, I’ve come back to and clung to those words. But they were written by an earlier me whose hope was never truly challenged. 

In Ecclesiastes, the term vanity implies meaninglessness. Today I wrestled with the thought: where is the line that one crosses to reach that point? When does that hope, that ability to resist the futility that can sometimes press so unceasingly in life, disappear?

Depression is a reality that needs to be treated with care, attention and accompaniment. But it’s not always a tragic event or a mental health crisis that causes us to reach this point. Any seemingly regular person can have a moment of realization that the world’s problems are overwhelmingly unsolvable, despite their striving to make the world, themselves, or their circumstances better. Even the good we experience can leave us feeling empty – wisdom, knowledge, and skill; food and drink; enjoyment and companionship.

This realization might cause a number of reactions: panic, anxiety, anger, disengagement, disillusionment, depression, despair. We can’t deny there’s an epidemic of these conditions in society. Many of us are not far from today’s writer of Ecclesiastes, even if we don’t recognize it.

When my hope was first challenged, I panicked. What was happening to my faith? Did I even have any? Why couldn’t I just stand aright on the promises Christ gave to me? What did it mean to believe, and would I continue to believe if things didn't turn out okay?

I’ve since come to realize this questioning was not something to be afraid of. God is beginning to deconstruct my “faith” for a truer, stronger version, by peeling back layers of misplaced hope: destroying my false understandings of identity and worth, and annihilating my illusions of security, control and self-sufficiency.

Hope is one of the three theological virtues, along with faith and charity. What I missed about hope as a theological virtue is that it is infused into a person by Divine Grace. It is a gift; it can’t be forced by sheer will or human effort. Hope must be asked for, prayed for, and openly received. God is removing the barriers that impede me from receiving it. The process may be painful, but in my heart of hearts, I am grateful for it.

In 2020, Father James Mallon visited our parish to lead our yearly mission. He reminded us that while both humans and all of creation were created good, everything is subject to the effects of the original sin of Adam and Eve. We must accept that we live in a fallen world, a sort of state of “futility.” If we cannot, we will find ourselves like the writer of Ecclesiastes – in despair, the opposite of hope. 

Our hope cannot be dependent on seeing the results we want. We cannot find it by consuming or engaging with the created good in the world. It can’t rest on how we feel or what happens to us, or be guaranteed by our own efforts. I am learning to hope in Him. The more I surrender to this, the more I am at peace.

“For the creation was subjected to futility [...] in hope that creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.  [...] Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8.20-21, 24-25) 




Michelynne Gomez

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