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A sermon by Dave Weissbard delivered at The Unitarian Universalist Church Rockford, Illinois
09/14/03 READING from Eternal Hope by Emil Brunner What oxygen is for the lungs, such is hope for the meaning of human life. Take oxygen away and death occurs through suffocation, take hope away and humanity is constricted through lack of breath; despair supervenes, spelling the paralysis of intellectual and spiritual powers by a feeling of senselessness and purposelessness of existence. As the fate of the human organism is dependent upon the supply of oxygen, so the fate of humanity is dependent upon the supply of hope. . . . Hope means the presence of the future, or more precisely it is one of the ways in which what is merely future and potential is made vividly present and actual to us. Hope is the positive, anxiety is the negative, mode of awakening the future. Through anxiety and hope [people] relate [themselves] to the future in passive expectation. But [they] may also have an active rather than a passive attitude towards the future. [They] may make plans and projects in order to shape the future according to [their] wishes. Through such an active attitude [people] imagine [themselves] to be the architect[s] of [their] own destiny. . . . But no one can altogether conceal from him/[or her]self the fact that [we] are far from being the unqualified arbiter[s] of our future. [We} cannot remain unaware that [our] power and freedom to shape the future is limited because [we] are dependent on factors over which [we have] no control.
THE SERMON [ambivalence] Our subject today is hope. As the reading suggested, there is a sense in which hope is as critical to us as oxygen, and yet hope has a problematic dimension. We have some ambivalence towards hope in our culture. George Herbert suggested that “He who lives in hope, dances without music,” and later referred to hope as “the poor man’s bread.” In Poor Richard’s Almanac, Ben Franklin suggested that “[One] who lives on hope will die fasting.” Edgar Watson Howe wrote, Hope lies to mortals, and most believe her.” On the other hand, we have Samuel Johnson, “It is necessary to hope, though hope should always be deluded: for hope itself is happiness, and its frustrations, however frequent, are yet less dreadful than its extinction. Martin Luther, in his Tabletalk, observed that:
And then there are the words from our reading:
Hope, as we understand it, is not truly universal. Many cultures have been centered around a cyclical understanding of existence. If existence is a recurring phenomenon with no change observable from epoch to epoch, then the only hope is to somehow get off the eternal treadmill, but that has no effect on the treadmill itself. Judaism developed a sense of linear history. According to its teachings, there was a beginning and history has been continuous and directional ever since. Judaism has a sense of purpose and a sense of progress. It has a dream of a future when the messiah will come and usher in a time of peace “when the lamb and the lion will lie down together.” Christianity, the child of Judaism, arose with the claim that the Messiah had, in fact, come. The problem was that he was not recognized for who he was and so was crucified as a common criminal. But that, his followers decided, was actually a part of a divine plan, and he will return soon to usher in the millennium. For the Christian, the source of hope lies in the belief that the father-God cared so much for our human condition that he sent his only begotten son to serve as an atoning sacrifice to ransom us from the necessity of paying for the sins of our ancestors. Now that is a truly complicated concept. We are asked to believe that a father who made all the rules had a son who was fully god and fully human, who was made to suffer to pay off our debts. And then, after he suffered, the laws of nature were interrupted to raise the son from the dead. Belief in such a Byzantine theological structure demands a great deal of faith, and, as theatre-people say, quoting Coleridge, “a willing suspension of disbelief.” [humanistic optimism] It should be no surprise that as knowledge increased and people gained understanding, and thereby some measure of control of the world around them, there was an observable shift away from that traditional faith and an increasing emphasis on the ability of the human species to work toward its own perfection. As we learned more and more about the nature of nature, that is, about the laws under which the universe appears to operate, and we learned how to intervene in those processes, our species became increasingly self-confident. We looked back at where we had been, and we looked at all we had accomplished, and we knew that it was good. And we decided that we were capable of almost everything, and Humanism was born. Many years ago, rummaging in the basement of the meetinghouse First Parish in Bedford, Massachusetts, which was constructed in 1817, I found, in a dusty frame, an old illuminated poster which bore the words of an old Unitarian affirmation, which was commonly spoken in this church once upon a time: We believe in: The fatherhood of God, The Leadership of Jesus The brotherhood of Man, and The progress of mankind onward and upward forever. Unitarians were blatant about it than some, but that last phrase spoke of a broad American attitude. Ignoring the sexist dimensions of the language, there was confidence in “the progress of mankind onward and upward forever.” Now that was hope. No, it was more than hope, it was trust. It was certainty. Given just a little more education and a little more science, and the world would be shaped up. It must be acknowledged that this confidence was not necessarily evenly distributed throughout society. Those who were on the bottom rungs were less confident. Those who were doing well wanted to see the present trends continue. Those who did not see their children starving, those who had a sense of power over their own lives, those who were never dragged out of their homes by the authorities of the state and deprived of their liberty or their lives, found comfort in imaging the status quo continuing and getting even better. Those who were less fortunate tended to continue to focus on the religious hope of the coming of a Messiah who would turn things upside down. But then came the second World War, and the holocaust: the willful destruction of six million Jews, and gypsies and homosexuals – not even as pawns in a war, but as a blight to be eliminated. Then came the explosion by what we believed to be the most peace-loving nation on the planet of a weapon more terrible than any before in history. The second World War put our species in touch with itself in a new way, and even among confident Unitarians, the old affirmation was stored in basements because who in their right might could any longer affirm a belief in “the progress of mankind onward and upward forever.”
[despair]
Not only did naive hope move from center stage, it seemed to be replaced by despair. In literature, in film, in the common culture, despair replaced hope, and the more it did, the more reality seemed to justify it. People began to question whether any real progress had been achieved. Have we really moved that far from the caves? Is our killer instinct really a thing of the past, or does it merely sleep from time to time? As the secular hope faded, there was a resurgence of sacred hope. People returned to the theology of the past in droves. Liberal denominations have suffered while those which offer the security of an ever present, all powerful, all knowing father who will ultimately protect his obedient children, have grown by leaps and bounds. Look at the tv shows that feature angels intervening in life. Angels are very in – even among some Unitarian Universalists. Practical solutions of the myriad problems we face seem so distant, that the unbelievable has now become believable for those who were suffocating without hope. There are people who are sustained by their confidence in the existence of a divine plan and magical interveners. I guess you do what you can to keep going. The Camelot days of the sixties restored hope for some, but then came the morass of Vietnam and the movement of the hands of the doomsday clock toward midnight as mutually assured destruction saw two world leaders with their fingers on the buttons that could end it all. While we have focused our attention on the role of the Clintonian theme “It’s the economy, stupid,” an important element of the campaign which took Bill Clinton into the White House was that he was the “man from Hope, Arkansas.” Some people really bought into the “hope” theme, but those hopes were soon dashed by the reality of politics.
[theology of hope]
The Clinton theme tapped into the rise within mainline Christian churches following World War II of what has been called a “Theology of Hope.” While traditional in its language and in many of its concepts, the theology of hope took the radical stance that we have the responsibility for changing the world, and from the Theology of Hope there emerged the various liberation theologies among Hispanic, and African, and feminist cultures. The African American theologian James Cone says: No [theological] perspective is sufficient which does not challenge the present order. If contemplation about the future distorts the present reality of injustice and reconciles the oppressed to unjust treatment committed against them, then it is unchristian and thus has nothing whatever to do with him who came to liberate us. It is this that renders white talk about heaven and life after death fruitless for black people. We know all about pearly gates, golden streets, and long white robes. We have sung songs about heaven until we were hoarse, but it did not change the present state or ease the pain. To be sure, we may “walk in Jerusalem jus’ like John” and there may be “a great camp meeting in the promised land,” but we want to walk in this land – “the land of the free and the home of the brave.” We want to know why cannot Harlem become Jerusalem and Chicago the Promised Land? What good are golden crowns, slippers, white robes or even eternal life, if it means we have to turn our backs on the pain and suffering of our own children? Unless the future can become present, thereby forcing us to make changes in this world, what significance could [theology] have for black people who believe that their self-determination must become a reality NOW! White missionaries have always encouraged blacks to forget about present injustice and look forward to heavenly justice. But Black theology says, “No!” insisting that we either put meaning into Christian hope by relating it to our liberation, or drop it altogether.
That kind of theology has been invigorating the churches of Latin America and many African American churches in the United States. It is a theology of hope – but not of hope in another world – hope in this world. It is a theology which acknowledges the existence of evil and that demands the kind of changes which will transform society. It has not become a major force in our society. Sad to say, the kind of hope and progress in which we believed has been pale by comparison. Too often, ours was hope for larger homes and happier children and peaceful retirements. As raving individualists, we have tended to celebrate individual hopes “and, oh yes, can we have more of the same for our friends, if there is enough left.”
[many kinds]
It should by now be clear that there are several kinds of hope. One is the passive kind of hope which believes that there is a power that will protect us and requires little from us. The story is making the rounds again about the faithful believer who was not fazed by the forecasts of floods because of a hurricane that was moving in, because he knew that God would protect him. As the waters began to rise, a national guard jeep appeared at his door and he was urged to evacuate. “I have hope in the Lord, he told the guardsmen, he will protect me.” As the water rose to the second floor and he was hanging out the window, a boat came by and he was urged to get in. “No need, he said, I have hope in the Lord and he will protect me.” As the waters continued to rise, the man was driven to the roof, and a helicopter came along and a ladder was dropped to him, but he declined to avail himself of it, telling the rescuers, “I have hope in the Lord and he will save me.” And the waters continued to rise and he drowned. As he passed through the pearly gates, he demanded to see God. “How could you let me die,” he asked. “I had hope in you, I trusted you, and you did nothing.” And God said, “What more could I do? I sent you a jeep, a boat and a helicopter!” There are people who go through life passively expecting that they will be taken care of. It is remarkable how often they survive. And then there is the kind of faith I spoke of earlier which believed that progress would be “onward and upward forever” and that we would make the world perfect if only we had a little more education and a little more science. That was an earnest kind of hope, but it was not very deep – it was not well suited to dealing with adversity. One of its problems was that it was too limited – it did not factor in those among our brothers and sisters who were less fortunate than we - it focused too narrowly and therefore did not have deep roots.
[active hope]
The kind of hope which the theologians and the psychologists and the political scientists speak of as essential is what Dr. Arnold Hutschnecker has referred to as “active hope.” That is the kind of hope which looks realistically at the world and sees challenges to be addressed, and sets about addressing them. He says: One group of the population is passive, the other group is progressive; one is holding back and living on false hopes, the other is moving forward spirited by active hope. A large segment of the passive group is suspicious of change, as suspicious as the peasants who fought the first vaccinations against smallpox. Many feel too powerless and helpless to fight City Hall. They frequently display a doomsday philosophy and the belief that everything is up to the government anyway. They pay their taxes and go to war because Big Daddy says so. The second group responds to new events with keen interest and renewed hope in the betterment of the lot of mankind. It has been people of this group that have tirelessly struggled for progress and, indeed, have advanced civilization to a point where they succeeded in pressuring their governments to build such monumental institutions as the United Nations and adopting universal policies of human rights. Frail as these first steps may appear, in the history of mankind they are giant steps. When we consider the relative shortness of time since the rise of civilization, these milestones are a far cry from the time of burning witches or a world with no law, rule unopposed by brute force.
Dr. Hutschnecker wrote 20 years ago. I cannot help but wonder how he would see things today with an unelected US administration committed to scuttling back the very giant steps to which he pointed as progress. I believe that part of our despair today is the result of our failure to understand that every dying epoch goes through a spasm in which it flails about, trying to cling to life. I mentioned on Fusion this morning the Chinese ideogram for crisis which is also the ideogram for opportunity. If we were to allow our defeats to so discourage us that we give up the struggle, if we were to choose the path of least resistance, they we would probably deserve the defeat we would experience. At the Unitarian Universalist General Assembly in June, I happened upon a display table at which they were handing out copies of the magazine called “Hope.” Although it is in its seventh year of publication, I had never heard of it before. Hope Magazine is dedicated to “Inspiring People, Encouraging Change.” It points out that:
Of all my sermons last year, the piece that I consider most significant was in my sermon on Paul Rogat Loeb’s book, the Soul of a Citizen, in which he quoted a young woman from Atlanta who pointed out that the people she knew who had given up because the challenges were too great could make a good case for their position, but when she considered who she would rather be with, it was the people who were willing to fight on for what they believed to be right even in the face of defeats. We Unitarian Universalists tend to get labeled and dismissed as “bleeding heart liberals” because of our commitment to a more just and loving world. The realists out there know that what really counts is standing up for number one, doing unto others before they can do unto you. But when you consider the company we get to keep, in contrast to the crowd those so-called “realists” travel with, I’m happy to accept the label. I was intrigued to read this week that General Wesley Clark expressed his delight with the label “liberal.” Right on!
Martin Green, in his book, Prophets of a New Age, says:
He acknowledges:
In the ancient myth, Pandora was sent by the gods to Prometheus and his brother – one version says she was sent to curse them; another says to bless them. Regardless, the story says she opened her box to peek and all of the contents save one, escaped from the chest. The one blessing remaining was Hope. When I speak, most Sundays of “the Hope that never dies,” I am not suggesting that our hope is not challenged and sometimes battered. It is my core belief, however, that it is possible for each of us to make a difference in the world. I do not believe that the world in which we live is rational, that it can be depended upon to operate on the basis of laws that we can ever fully understand. But I do believe that somehow, it is possible for each of us to do something during the course of our lives that will make some difference. It is that hope which gives shape and meaning to my life. Do you have a hope chest? How healthy is your hope? What is its shape? What are you going to do because of it? |