Overcoming the deficit of hope
There are two things which sadden me a lot. One is the propagation – particularly during Lenten talks – of a myopic vision of Christianity as mainly concerned with the salvation of individual souls. The other thing is the ever-increasing number of people who are losing all hope in their future and in that of our country.
Regular readers of my commentaries know that I steer away from the view of Christianity as simply a sop for the soul or the formulation of an evacuation strategy from an evil world. I look for and try to live a Christian faith that incarnates us in reality, warts and all, by proposing a regeneration plan for ourselves and the rest of humanity.
I believe in and hope for the spreading of Christianity as it really is, that is the belief that the God who loves us is a victorious God and that our response to His love is to embed it in the political, economic and socio-cultural structures that envelop us.
The loss of hope, sometimes bordering on desperation, is more disturbing. Pope Francis addressed this deficit of hope in his Lenten message 2024. He described the hopelessness felt by many people as the wandering through life like a desert lacking a promised land as their destination.
However, this deficit of hope is not present only among the Maltese. In December 2021, the internationally renowned environmentalist, Jane Goodall, said: “I meet so many young people who seem to have lost hope. They are angry, depressed or just apathetic. If young people lose hope, that’s the end of our human species.”
Just Google “are people losing hope?” and you will be inundated by similar positions.
All this shows there is, unfortunately, in the world today a generalised deficit of hope and a dearth of trust. COVID-19, Ukraine, Gaza, high inflation, rising populism: all these are among the reasons contributing to this deficit of hope internationally. Corruption, impunity, the degradation of the quality of life and institutions headed by lackeys are some of the factors justifiably entrenching in many Maltese their feeling of loss of hope.
There is a fundamental difference between hope (particularly the Christian hope we struggle to revive in ourselves during
Lent as a preparation for Easter) and alienation. Christian hope is not the inane attempt to feed one’s imagination on a pie in the sky or on feigning the denial of the woes and grave wounds inflicted on the body politic. That’s cheap alienation, bravado or wishful thinking and certainly not hope.
Hope looks reality straight in its eyes. It recognises all that’s wrong, unjust and despicable around us and, truth be told, inside us. Hope then propels us forward.
Academic and senior scientist at Gallup, Shane Lopez defines hope as “the belief that the future will be better than the present, coupled with the belief that you have the power to make it so”. This definition combines optimism and personal agency.
Christian hope goes beyond optimism and personal agency by adding the agency of a providential and loving God. In the words of Francis’s Lenten message, hope, based on this realisation, gives us “the courage to see our world, not as being in its death throes but in a process of giving birth, not at the end but at the beginning of a great new chapter of history. We need courage to think like this”.
Lent is, thus, the period when Christians reflect on whether hope is the guiding light underpinning their personal conversion and, more importantly, their share in a collective strategy to regenerate the world.
Lent goes beyond denying oneself of a sweet here and a drink there. Lent is made of sterner stuff.
Lent is more political than pietistic, communitarian more than individualistic. It has to do with the struggle to build this ‘world’ based on Matthew’s rendering of the Sermon on the Mount, which is a reveille call for the adoption of a radical strategy for societal changes.
As a result, during Lent, Christians should support initiatives for good governance; denounce corruption; help the anti-poverty forum; become active politically; give a voice to the unborn; fight against the degradation of our environment; write posts on Facebook supporting refugees; and work for the just distribution of wealth in our country.
Those bereft of hope believe that all this is not achievable. Lent, on the contrary, helps us to discover that a more just world is achievable. In March 2016, Francis addressed the fainthearted who lost all hope. He emphasised that we can all conquer the evil that is in us and in the world with Christ who takes upon Himself the sin of the world, including our own sin, and cleanses it with His blood, the mercy, and the love of God.
However, Lent also shows us that all this cannot be achieved without paying a price: the Cross. This is a price worth paying as Lent teaches us that the Cross is just a stop on the road to the Resurrection.
Archbishop St Oscar Romero, a few days before he was martyred on the altar just after the consecration, explained all this in the most limpid way:
“Easter is a shout of victory! No one can extinguish that life that Christ resurrected. Not even death and hatred against Him and against His Church will be able to overcome it. He is the victor! Just as He will flourish in an Easter of unending resurrection, so it is necessary to also accompany Him in Lent, in a Holy Week that is cross, sacrifice, martyrdom… Happy are those who do not become offended by their cross!”
This is the basis of the Christian strategy to overcome the deficit of hope.
“Lent goes beyond denying oneself of a sweet here and a drink there. Lent is made of sterner stuff