Though the Church’s new year begins on Advent Sunday, January is still the time when most of us begin to think about the next twelve months and what they may hold for us. It may be a time for making resolutions but it is also a time for thinking more generally about our hopes and dreams, for compiling what my nephews tell me is called ‘a bucket list’ (things to do before kicking the bucket!)
And so it may also be a time for thinking in detail about what we hope for and what we mean by hope. Hope is the second of the ‘theological’ virtues referred to at the end of chapter 13 of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians as ‘faith, hope and love.’ The New Testament is full of hope for the not long to be delayed coming of God’s kingdom – the establishment of God’s will in the world. That hope, however, is not a vision of progress – quite the opposite – the time before the coming of the kingdom will be a time of wars and disasters (Mark 13). In the meantime the faithful are to be both patient and expectant, watchful and enduring. For the early Christians there was a strong contrast between their present experience and their future vision. This led to their thinking of themselves as ‘resident aliens’ in the world, and citizens of another kingdom. They were to live now as far as they could by the values of that other kingdom inspired by the Holy Spirit who is the pledge of the good things to come. Thus their hope led them to be both patient and impatient; patiently enduring what falls short of their vision of the way things should be, but doing their utmost to challenge and change what can be changed.
What hope means for us depends on our context. Hope may look different in Hampstead and Bethlehem. Hope is also both personal and communal; do we have hopes for our church as well as our families? How hopeful we are also depends on the way in which we have been individually nurtured. It is all too easy to be generally optimistic because life has been good to us and we have learnt to look on the bright side of life. It is also all too possible (if not exactly easy) not to have any real hopes or dreams to avoid being disappointed. At the same time one can live with anxiety as a way of preparing oneself for the worse. Worry can be an expression of love but if you are loved in that way it can become oppressive. Genuine hope can therefore have a lot to overcome in us. Genuine hope requires us to be ‘imaginatively realistic’ in looking at the world, aware that disasters may happen, but also trusting in the power of human skill and expertise to prevent them, most of the time. Imaginative realism involves being equally aware of limitations and possibilities. The former involves self knowledge and an openness to just criticism, the latter is alert to hidden skills in ourselves and others and a willingness to hunt out the unexpected resource. To be truly hopeful is to be grateful for success but not to dwell on it and to be alert to those sins and failings which so often prevent the realisation of our hopes. So often hope also has to involve forgiveness and finding new ways to move forward.
The cultivation of hope therefore involves learning from failure as well as success in the light of the Gospel. It involves learning how to disagree creatively, having the courage to try new things but also recognising when it is right to consolidate and rest in the good things that have been achieved.
So my challenge to you at the start of a new year is to think about your hopes for this church – with imaginative realism. And my challenge to our PCC working parties is to identify one thing which they can achieve during the year which would make a real difference to the life of this church.
And as for ourselves individually I hope we can all find in ourselves what the poet Henry Vaughan called ‘holy hope and high humility’ – a confidence in God whatever we have to face and a determination to discover and to realise his purposes for us.
These thoughts were derived from a lecture given by Professor Mike Higton at a clergy conference in Durham in the Autumn of this year.
The Vicar writes
Stephen Tucker