Hope
15/10/15 04:51
I’m not very good at politics and I don’t often venture into political debates in my daily life or in this blog. So don’t worry, I’m not about to tell you how to vote.
Anthony Zurcher is a North American reporter for BBC News who frequently writes stories about US politics aimed at a United Kingdom audience. I know that writers produce articles and others select the headlines, but there is a page on the BBC News website with an article by Lurcher with the headline, “Did the debate dash Biden’s presidential hopes?” The link from the main page has a slightly different line: “Are Biden’s 2016 hopes over?” The link got my attention enough to get me to read the article, which was a little analysis of the recent Democratic presidential debate.
There was nothing in the article to indicate that Vice President Biden is hopeless.
In fact, it occurs to me that after more than three decades as a US senator and eight years as Vice President the 72-year-old might be hoping for a little peace and quiet and retirement when his current term is completed at the end of 2016. Deciding not to run for President could, it seems to me, be a relief for him.
There probably have been days in his life when hope was hard to find. During his first term in the U.S. Senate, his wife Neilla died suddenly and traumatically in an automobile accident, leaving Joe alone to raise their three children, Hunter, Beau and Naomi. A person doesn’t recover from that kind of grief quickly. In the dark days of sorrow there can be a sense of hopelessness that causes a person to wonder if one can survive.
Last year, Vice President Biden, lost his son Beau, who was also his namesake: Joseph Robinette Biden III. Beau was an attorney, an officer in the Army Judge Advocate General’s Corps and a politician. There were many who hoped that he would follow in his father’s footsteps. But an aggressive brain cancer took his life. It is never easy for a parent to lose a child. It affects your entire sense of the future. Hopelessness is part of the process.
Joe Biden knows from the experiences of his life what the loss and recovery of hope feels like. He has considerable experience with hope. I doubt if deciding not to run for the office of President constitutes a loss of hope for him.
The word hope is too often abused by contemporary speakers, as if hope were a sunny-day good feeling in anticipation of positive personal outcomes. The word gets used as a substitute for wish way too often. People say “I hope,” when they mean “I want.” Hope is substantially deeper and more powerful than a simple statement of desired outcomes.
I work with people who have suffered deep loss. I walk the journey of grief with the survivors of the deaths of spouses and children, of parents and others. I have officiated at a dozen funerals a year for nearly four decades. I have responded to hundreds of cries for help from hospital emergency rooms. I have been appointed to bring death notification to next of kin on many occasions. I have been present in many moments where hope is dim and hard to find. I don’t mean for this to sound glib, but I have been grateful when someone literally collapses sobbing on the floor because the floor is safe. The person won’t fall farther. I can get down on my knees and begin to offer comfort to someone who is at one of the lowest points of their life.
From that point, they often are not yet able to see any hope, but within a few minutes, I begin to see signs of hope. Another family member will begin to share a memory. A neighbor will drop by offering food or assistance. An officer will have an accurate answer to a question. Someone will remember a favorite song. Little by little, signs of community, compassion and caring creep into the darkness of grief. Grief is a slow process and it takes time to occur. And somewhere in that process of grief, hope is rediscovered. Sometimes it is first recognized as the simple awareness that this loss can be survived. Surviving is enough at times. It comes before one recognizes the possibility that one might someday experience joy again.
We don’t hope because of. We hope in spite of.
The realization of hope that is born in the depths of grief and loss is something entirely different from the kind of magical granting of wishes that is too often presented in the media.
I’m not much of a television viewer, but I a few years ago there was a television series called “Touched by an Angel.” People in my congregations would watch episodes and be moved by them. They would ask me if I have seen the show and often tell me that I should watch it. I think that part of the premise of the show is that Angels not only communicate messages from God, they themselves are in a process of learning and growing closer to God.
I can’t comment on the theology of the show. I have only watched one or two episodes. What I can say is that there is more to real life experience than the show could possibly illustrate. Each episode of the show took a half hour less the amount of time devoted to commercial messages.
I’ve spent too much time with people who wait years for a message from God to expect that the real problems and challenges of life can be resolved in 20 minutes.
I know how hard hope can be to find in real world situations. But I also know how resilient hope is. Instead of being what I want at the moment, hope is the assurance that I belong to something much bigger than myself.
The apostle Paul wrote, “Now faith, hope, and love abide, these three.”
May we have the courage and vision to look beyond the headlines for true signs of genuine hope in our world.
Anthony Zurcher is a North American reporter for BBC News who frequently writes stories about US politics aimed at a United Kingdom audience. I know that writers produce articles and others select the headlines, but there is a page on the BBC News website with an article by Lurcher with the headline, “Did the debate dash Biden’s presidential hopes?” The link from the main page has a slightly different line: “Are Biden’s 2016 hopes over?” The link got my attention enough to get me to read the article, which was a little analysis of the recent Democratic presidential debate.
There was nothing in the article to indicate that Vice President Biden is hopeless.
In fact, it occurs to me that after more than three decades as a US senator and eight years as Vice President the 72-year-old might be hoping for a little peace and quiet and retirement when his current term is completed at the end of 2016. Deciding not to run for President could, it seems to me, be a relief for him.
There probably have been days in his life when hope was hard to find. During his first term in the U.S. Senate, his wife Neilla died suddenly and traumatically in an automobile accident, leaving Joe alone to raise their three children, Hunter, Beau and Naomi. A person doesn’t recover from that kind of grief quickly. In the dark days of sorrow there can be a sense of hopelessness that causes a person to wonder if one can survive.
Last year, Vice President Biden, lost his son Beau, who was also his namesake: Joseph Robinette Biden III. Beau was an attorney, an officer in the Army Judge Advocate General’s Corps and a politician. There were many who hoped that he would follow in his father’s footsteps. But an aggressive brain cancer took his life. It is never easy for a parent to lose a child. It affects your entire sense of the future. Hopelessness is part of the process.
Joe Biden knows from the experiences of his life what the loss and recovery of hope feels like. He has considerable experience with hope. I doubt if deciding not to run for the office of President constitutes a loss of hope for him.
The word hope is too often abused by contemporary speakers, as if hope were a sunny-day good feeling in anticipation of positive personal outcomes. The word gets used as a substitute for wish way too often. People say “I hope,” when they mean “I want.” Hope is substantially deeper and more powerful than a simple statement of desired outcomes.
I work with people who have suffered deep loss. I walk the journey of grief with the survivors of the deaths of spouses and children, of parents and others. I have officiated at a dozen funerals a year for nearly four decades. I have responded to hundreds of cries for help from hospital emergency rooms. I have been appointed to bring death notification to next of kin on many occasions. I have been present in many moments where hope is dim and hard to find. I don’t mean for this to sound glib, but I have been grateful when someone literally collapses sobbing on the floor because the floor is safe. The person won’t fall farther. I can get down on my knees and begin to offer comfort to someone who is at one of the lowest points of their life.
From that point, they often are not yet able to see any hope, but within a few minutes, I begin to see signs of hope. Another family member will begin to share a memory. A neighbor will drop by offering food or assistance. An officer will have an accurate answer to a question. Someone will remember a favorite song. Little by little, signs of community, compassion and caring creep into the darkness of grief. Grief is a slow process and it takes time to occur. And somewhere in that process of grief, hope is rediscovered. Sometimes it is first recognized as the simple awareness that this loss can be survived. Surviving is enough at times. It comes before one recognizes the possibility that one might someday experience joy again.
We don’t hope because of. We hope in spite of.
The realization of hope that is born in the depths of grief and loss is something entirely different from the kind of magical granting of wishes that is too often presented in the media.
I’m not much of a television viewer, but I a few years ago there was a television series called “Touched by an Angel.” People in my congregations would watch episodes and be moved by them. They would ask me if I have seen the show and often tell me that I should watch it. I think that part of the premise of the show is that Angels not only communicate messages from God, they themselves are in a process of learning and growing closer to God.
I can’t comment on the theology of the show. I have only watched one or two episodes. What I can say is that there is more to real life experience than the show could possibly illustrate. Each episode of the show took a half hour less the amount of time devoted to commercial messages.
I’ve spent too much time with people who wait years for a message from God to expect that the real problems and challenges of life can be resolved in 20 minutes.
I know how hard hope can be to find in real world situations. But I also know how resilient hope is. Instead of being what I want at the moment, hope is the assurance that I belong to something much bigger than myself.
The apostle Paul wrote, “Now faith, hope, and love abide, these three.”
May we have the courage and vision to look beyond the headlines for true signs of genuine hope in our world.