ECCLESIOLOGICAL ETCHINGS
May 28, 2022
I have borrowed a line from Desmond Tutu more times than I can count. He said, “I am a prisoner of hope.” So often, it appears as if the snare of despondency has a pretty tight grip, yet there is something that keeps me believing even when I cannot see the destination. Today, when it appears as if we are going to hear the same rhetoric that only sets us up for another tragic event, I am still hopeful for a shift in the conversation, a revision to what has been a reoccurring story of pain, pontificating and pointlessness. One of the places where my hope-filled conviction finds its roots is in the beginning. In Genesis 1, the poet, in a rhythmic pattern, presents creation and its goodness. Toward the end, we read: “God created humanity in God’s own image, in the divine image God created them, male and female God created them… God saw everything he had made: it was supremely good. There was evening and there was morning: the sixth day.” As a species, we have yet to truly appreciate the divine spark in every human being, but I continue to encounter glimpses of hope in the lives of so many amazing people who press forward when most voices are saying, “There is no way forward.” They give me hope.
May the shadows of futility, Holy One, never eclipse the possibilities envisioned in the hearts of the hopeful. Amen.
