It is not just an impression. The world right now is like a pot that has been simmering, and the expected consequence is that at some point it will boil over. The phrase “flooding the zone” is nowadays used to describe how we are flooded with real-time events, most of which are either negative, heavy or discouraging. Such an environment erodes the natural sense of security that usually tells us that “things will be okay”.
A few weeks ago, I heard someone say that they are too blessed to be stressed. I grinned suspiciously at the phrase, deeming it as one of those naïve catchphrases that have little to no grasp of reality. Are we really blessed? And can anybody claim not to be stressed? This phrase challenged me to think things through, to look around and inside of me.
The word ‘crisis’, which nowadays carries a negative connotation, originally referred to the act of separation and judgment. Later on, it took on a temporal dimension, referring to that turning point in the medical sphere where a patient would either turn towards recovery or death.
In many ways, at the institutional, collective and personal level we are always in a time of crisis. Times like these tend to generate uncertainties, but they are also very concrete opportunities to take a step back and recalibrate, asking the right questions.
In times of crisis, we are fed simplistic and populist answers. Most of these cheap answers come in the form of emotional and intellectual shortcuts, where opposites are mutually exclusive, material prosperity is portrayed as the only reasonable target, and the hierarchy of things that matter is reduced to the superficial.
What does it mean to hope in a time of crisis? Is hope just a utopian exercise? With St Paul, we have to claim that hope is neither a mirage nor a gimmick. In his letter to the Thessalonians, Paul defines the “pagans” not so much by their wrong beliefs, but by the absence of hope in their heart (1 Thess 4,13). For hope to have substance, and not be a source of disappointment and disillusionment, it has to have a solid foundation. In the various tipping points of life, hope is tested, measured and sometimes even purified.
Hope is not the absence of difficult questions, for “who hopes for what he already sees?” (Romans 8,24). These questions are not only inevitable but necessary, because no ready-made answer can satisfy the deepest longings and expectations.
In a recent audience speaking about the theme of hope, Pope Leo made reference to Nicholas of Cusa (1401-1464) and his principle of “learned ignorance”. The wisdom behind this ignorance is that we do not have the answers to all our questions, dilemmas and conflicts.
Christian disciples also do not have all the answers. They do, however, have a personal relationship with Jesus, whom they follow as explorers in an ever-changing landscape. Like any other relationship, this one is not a magic wand. It instead provides a safe space, where seemingly opposing elements are kept in a healthy tension, and that which still cannot be grasped is allowed to germinate and grow in moments that are beyond anyone’s control.
Hope is to face these crises from the security of this relationship, not as orphans but as beloved sons and daughters.
alexanderzammit@gmail.com
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