Our imagery is never the same once we have hope. The way we view the world and ourselves becomes an opportunity to see “all things new.” The way we view ourselves is transformed in that even in failure — maybe especially in failure — we seek to learn about the Christ within us. This does not take away the pain of loss and defeat but it removes us from being tied to our accomplishments, the reactions of others, and the images we project.
Once again, Steindl-Rast clearly makes this differentiation for us. “A person of hope will have a whole array of lively hopes. But those hopes do not tell us much. The showdown comes when all of the hopes get shattered. Then, a person of hopes will get shattered with them. A person of hope, however, will be growing a new crop of hopes as soon as the storm is over.”
The image we have of others also becomes something quite surprising when we have Christian hope. No longer do we have unrealistic expectations. Instead, we have low expectations and high hopes. By that I mean that our outlook toward, and actions with, others are no longer dependent upon their response. As a matter of fact, we act sometimes almost in spite of what people say and do. And we see possibilities where there seemingly are none.
The following story by Mother Theresa of Calcutta illustrates this clearly. It is worth praying over and remembering when we are reaching out to others in need and not feeling the initial positive response we desire:
“We have a place in Australia. (As you know many of the aborigines live there in very bad conditions!)
“When we went around in that place, we found an old man in a most terrible condition.
“I went in there and tried to talk to him and then I said to him, 'Kindly allow me to clean your place and clean your bed and so on.' He answered, 'I'm all right!'
“I said to him, 'You will be more all right if I clean your place.'
“In the end he allowed me to do it and when I was in his room (I call it a room, but it was not really a room!) I noticed that he had a lamp, a very beautiful lamp but covered with dirt and dust. I said to him, 'Do you not light the lamp?' And he said, 'For whom? Nobody ever comes here. I never see anybody. Nobody comes to me. I don't need to light the lamp.'
“Then I asked him, 'If the sisters come to you will you light the lamp for them?' He answered, 'Yes, I'll do it!'
“So the sisters started going to him in the evening and he used to light the lamp.
“Afterwards (he lived for more than two years), he sent word to me through the sisters and said, 'Tell my friend Mother Teresa, the light she lit in my life is still burning!'”
(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)
