Finding Hope In Unexpected Places
I had an interesting experience recently attending an Advent prayer service at the Mennonite Church where I live (the Mennonite Church is known for its focus on peace, nonviolence and social justice). We read the same text four times, each time looking for a word or phrase that resonated.
The passage that evening was one of my favorites, and one of the most beautiful and poetic in Scripture, from Isaiah 61:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor …
When it was my turn to offer what resonated with me, my response surprised me. I said I felt an ache in my chest because Isaiah’s words are so far removed from the foul spirit that seems to be infecting our country and the world.
What good news can we proclaim to the people of Gaza, Ukraine, Lebanon, Yemen, and so many other countries plagued by war? Likewise, the people who came to the U.S. seeking asylum or a better life and now face the threat of becoming prisoners?
How are we binding up the broken-hearted when we make folk heroes out of Luigi Mangione, who killed someone in cold blood, or Daniel Perry, who held a mentally disturbed man in a chokehold on a NY subway after he had been subdued, triggering the man’s death?
How are we proclaiming the Lord’s favor when the soon-to-be top leader of our country says people who disagree with him “should be jailed?” Or when he is awarded $15 million because a journalist called him out for being what he is, a sexual predator?
Then, something unexpected happened at the prayer service. A woman in our group spoke up and said the passage made her thankful for all the people who get out of bed everyday and try to be of service to others. She said all of those people give her hope.
The words caused me to pause. I thought about the physical therapist I had seen earlier in the week who is helping me overcome a pulled muscle in my leg. I thought of the other PTs I saw that day in the clinic, helping stroke victims to walk again, and young athletes with sprained ankles to play football again.
I thought of the people of Syria this past week breaking open the doors of the notorious Saydnaya detention center outside of Demascus, setting its political prisoners free.
I thought of my friend Linda, who for more than four years has led the Tuesday morning Lectio Divina prayer group I attend, insuring that each week we have a meaningful passage to share and reflect on. Just the previous day, Linda had sent everyone in the group this message written by spirituality author Becky Eldredge for IgnatianSpirituality.com:
“If someone asks me why I can hope today, my number-one reason is I know I am not alone. I carry Christ in my heart. Christ resides in me within my inner chapel. This means that no matter what I endure or go through, I do not face it alone.”
They were just the words I needed to hear. It was a reminder that no matter how lonely we might feel at this troubling time, as followers of Christ, we are called to be bearers of an inner joy.
This past weekend I had the privilege of giving an online talk for Father John Dear’s Beatitudes Center for the Nonviolent Jesus. Father John is a longtime advocate for nonviolent conflict resolution and was a friend of Thomas Merton, Daniel Berrigan and Thich Nhat Hanh. My talk was on “Thomas Merton’s Contemplative Wisdom for a Time of Crisis.”
Something Father John said during the discussion part of the program has stayed with me. As the country faces what promises to be a turbulent few years ahead, Father John said, “We must be contemplatives who listen to God as never before.”
The rest of the Isaiah passage offers us a roadmap for how to do that.
… To comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion —
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair …
They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities …
If we can do all that Isaiah urges, what a gift we could give to others this Christmas season.
As we head toward Christmas Day, can we meditate on Isaiah’s vision and work toward putting his words into action? Despite all the obstacles, may we work to make 2025 “a year of the Lord’s favor,” to use Isaiah’s words. And may his prophesy about a budding springtime of compassion, renewal and rebuilding come to pass:
For as the soil makes the sprout come up
and a garden causes seeds to grow,
so the Sovereign Lord will make righteousness
and praise spring up before all nations.
