Humanity urgently needs hope, writes Fr Timothy Radcliffe OP
I am constantly astonished by the courage with which people face terrible challenges: unemployment, terminal illness, the breakdown of relationships. We hope for our children, many of whom face long term unemployment, some of whom have lost their faith. We also pray for the millions of young people in Europe who are struggling to imagine a future. May they find hope.
And our war weary world needs hope. The Ukraine is boiling. There is a band of violence stretching east from Nigeria, the Sudan, Somalia, Libya, Syria, Iraq, the Holy Land, Afghanistan and Pakistan. Millions of people are fleeing their homes. A hundred thousand Christians are killed every year for their faith. And so today, humanity urgently needs hope.
We look to Mary for hope. Often we think of her having a lovely domestic life with Joseph and playing with cuddly baby Jesus. But imagine being pregnant with a child not by her husband, all the malignant gossip, the nasty innuendos. And that child took a path that must have pained her deeply.
Arrested
He never married and gave her grandchildren. He hung out with disreputable people, even prostitutes. He was known for partying, eating and drinking.
And then he is publicly arrested, and sent off to a shameful death as a criminal.
The apparition of Knock shows Mary gazing at the lamb on the altar, the lamb that was to pour out its blood and suffer a painful death. So Mary is close to all parents who struggle to hope for their children.
Sometimes we may feel that our own lives are dead wood. Maybe we have mucked up our lives, destroyed beautiful loves, missed changes to do something with ourselves. We may feel that we are stuck, at a dead end. But God’s grace opens an astonishing future.
Three weeks ago, when I was in the United States I went to visit my favourite community of Lay Dominicans. They are all in a prison in Massachusetts. Most of them are there for murder. Here in prison they have found Christ and become members of our Dominican family.
I missed one of them, Rocco, who died recently. He had been a mafia hit man, a professional murderer. He once told me that he had become like a Dominican nun. He had the enclosure and he said the breviary. But they all have the mission to bring hope to the other people in prison. They are living witnesses to the fact that whatever you do, your life can begin again.
Mary expresses her hope first of all by going to be with Elizabeth. We have no idea what she did for her cousin. Maybe she just sat with her and they nattered most of the day. When someone is going through a tough time, people often avoid them. We are afraid that we have nothing to say or do. We may even fear to catch a bit of their despair. But the most important thing is to be with them and break their solitude.
My publisher is called Robin. He had a dreadful accident 25 years ago in which he lost both his beloved wife and their son. For ages he lay in bed boiling with anger. He was angry with God; he was angry with the Church; he shouted at every priest who came to see him. The turning point was when a young Dominican came to see him and said: “Robin, I have no idea what to say”. And that was the right thing to say. Just being with Robin was the important thing. And if there is anything to say, God will give it.
Jesus says: “Do not be anxious before what you are to say, but say what is given to you in that hour, for it is not you who speak but the Holy Spirit.” (Mark 13.11)
Secondly, she greets Elizabeth. She calls her by name.
Gregory Boyle is a Jesuit priest who works with violent gangs in Los Angeles. His first task when he befriends these desperate young people is to remember their names.
I must confess that I am very bad at remembering people’s names. But one of the ways that we transmit our hope is by treasuring people’s names, defending their good names. We live in a society which is filled with accusation. In the media people are treated as rubbish, denigrated, ridiculed. Even in the Church, people sometimes attack other people’s good name and bandy around accusations.
Pope Francis says: “Appearances notwithstanding, every person is immensely holy and deserves our love.” If we really open our eyes to people, and see them as God sees them, we can see their goodness.
Mob with rocks
I had a dramatic day in Algeria in January. I was being driven to the Sahara by a bishop – a Dominican – when we got caught up in some fighting. Eventually, our car was being surrounded by a mob with rocks. I shall never forget the face of a young man who stood in front of us with a stone the size of a football. His face was angry, but beneath the anger one could see waves of fear, and beneath the fear, I could see a face of a gentle person. So instead of looking at people with accusation, we must learn to see their goodness, even if it is concealed. If they see our loving look, then they may begin to hope again.
The Eucharist is the great sacrament of our hope. We remember the darkest moment in Christian history, Maundy Thursday. There seemed to be no future. The community of disciples was breaking up. Judas had sold Jesus. Peter was about to deny him. Jesus was about to die.
At this most dreadful moment of despair, Jesus made a gesture filled with hope. He took that bread and wine and said to the disciples: “This is my body and blood for you.” He made that terrible time a moment of gift.
It is strange that every Sunday we gather to remember the darkest moment, when there seemed to be no future at all. Nothing that we live shall ever be as bad as that. But it was then that Jesus made the greatest sign of hope.
That is what keeps us going. That is the hope that Mary knew and shares with us.