Meditation on Hope

I begin this series of reflections with a Christmas letter from 2004.

These are dark days. As the Winter Solstice approaches, the sun appears later and disappears earlier. The news is full of wars, genocide, conflict, and environmental ruin. Things fall apart, as William Butler Yeats put it—and it is hard now to believe he was wrong.

Yet December, the darkest time of the year, is when many of us celebrate light and hope. Christians remember the birth of Jesus and the hope of peace and redemption. Jews celebrate the persistence of light against all odds. And there are traditions, going back beyond memory, that celebrate the Solstice itself, the end of growing darkness and the return, however slowly, of the light.

What these traditions have in common is hope. Not certainty, for hope is not about an assured future. Not optimism, for hope is not about cheerfulness or self-assurance. It is the condition that makes the future possible and undergirds authentic confidence. If we lose hope, we lose all. If we keep it, we can create the future, even without guarantees.

So it is well that we celebrate hope, even in dark times like these. At the Solstice, the sun will rise late and set early. The next day will be longer, even if only by a minute; and the day after that longer still. Greater light will come. And hope, wherever we find it, will still be with us.