Hope can be a hard virtue to cultivate. It’s also a virtue we tend to ignore in the good times, only for hope to be drowned by life’s sorrows. The virtue of hope, as the Catholic Catechism says, “Responds to the aspiration to happiness which God has placed in the heart of every man; it takes up the hopes that inspire men’s activities and purifies them so as to order them to the Kingdom of heaven; it keeps man from discouragement; it sustains him during times of abandonment; it opens up his heart in expectation of eternal beatitude. Buoyed up by hope, he is preserved from selfishness and led to the happiness that flows from charity.” (CCC 1818)
So how do we ‘buoy ourselves up’ with hope? How do we add flavour to life like salt? Hope is a tough man’s virtue; it requires a lot of grit to keep from being submerged by life’s waves. We tend to sink into our despair, cynicism, sadness, and anger, thinking that such a descent makes us insightful, when really it just makes us predictable. These emotions are easy to wallow in; they feel more satisfying in the short term, but they are very dangerous over time.
It’s easy to allow negative emotions to turn us away from cultivating hope. An example that comes to mind is the lovable but jaded and disillusioned Rick from the 1942 classic movie Casablanca. He’s easy to like, but he’s been crushed and hurt too many times by life and people, so turns his back on both. He’s sassy, sarcastic, and self-pitying, the trifecta of the good old man of mystery, brooding and insightful, or so we’ve been told. He is a good man, but not a great man. He idolized his love, Lisel, and expected her to give his life meaning, purpose, and fulfillment, placing his happiness on her shoulders instead of his own. In this, he’s easy to relate to, for most of us have been similarly disappointed, even crushed one way or another for days, months, or sometimes years. When the love of his life leaves him, Rick has a choice: rise above it, and strive for holiness, or descend into cynicism.
The cynic may think they are deep and insightful, but that’s not true. It’s the joyful person, the selfless person, who’s been beaten by the world, betrayed by humanity, and instead of closing himself off, says I will try again. This person has cultivated hope. They have made a habit of hope, and so when deep sorrow comes upon them, they will be buoyed up and rise above the waves. They have a habit of being ready to open once more to the chance of being hurt and betrayed again because they’ve survived it before. Because they believe that suffering has meaning and believe in the good of serving others, even if such suffering never seems to benefit them. They believe that their sorrow can connect them to God and others in a deep and meaningful way. Those are the people who, relying upon the same God, have an infinite spring in their souls; they are not dependent on others to fulfil their dreams or needs; rather, their policy is service and love, which has been cultivated by hope.
Victor Laszlo in Casablanca is this person; he has seen the worst of humanity, fighting the Nazis and spending time in a concentration camp. However, he refuses to give up. Rick is relatable, and we are all Rick from time to time, but Victor is the man that we want to become. Rick becomes like Victor at the end of the film; he “rejoins humanity.” He finds hope again and sacrifices his desires in order to seek the higher good, and fight the greater evil. Let’s not mistake cynicism for holiness. Depth comes from suffering endured and transformed into joy; and this is done by having the virtue of hope. Hope ensures that suffering and death does not have the final say.
Another good example of cultivating hope can be seen in some of the characters from the novel Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell. One character, Squire Hamley, has just lost his beloved wife, he tells his friend the doctor Mr. Gibson, “I do try to say, God’s will be done, sir,” said the Squire, looking up at Mr. Gibson for the first time, and speaking with more life in his voice; “but it’s harder to be resigned than happy people think.”
It’s easy to be hopeful when life is fair sailing, when we have nothing to hope for, for we already have the good we desire. But to be hopeful when we have faced profound sorrow, and the good seems unattainable, that’s a lot harder. That’s where hope is seen. Hope is a warrior virtue, not for the faint of heart. The paradox of hope is that it’s a virtue forged in the depths of darkness. You can always tell a person who has cultivated the virtue of hope; they are not inconvenienced by small things, and they don’t lose their temper over minor inconveniences. They’ve fought hard to shed the victim mentality, the anger and despair in their adversity, grief, and disappointments. They are rewarded with wisdom, joy, steely determination, and abiding peace. Hope seems only to be truly held by those who have consistently been sorely disappointed, tried, or grieving some great loss in life. But isn’t that all of us to some extent? We might not have the losses of Rick or Squaire Hamley, or maybe we do, but any disappointment, delay, or waiting season can be used to cultivate hope.
There are all kinds of disappointments in this life, such as not getting into the college we wanted, or the job, or the house we desired, to say nothing of the suffering of infertility, marital problems, loneliness, losing a spouse, child, friend, or other family member. If we cultivate hope over the small grievances, we will be ready when we inevitably face heavier losses. We will have cultivated the habit of hope to buoy us above water. Hope doesn’t waste suffering; it allows the sufferer to be refined by it.
The main heroine in Wives and Daughters, Molly Gibson, sums up well the hard battle of cultivating hope when she says, “I daresay it seems foolish; perhaps all our earthly trials will appear foolish to us after a while; perhaps they seem so now to angels. But we are ourselves, you know, and this is now, not some time to come, a long, long way off. And we are not angels, to be comforted by seeing the ends for which everything is sent.” We don’t know all the reasons why, but we do know that we have a good and beautiful God who loves us; we know Him. The story or some chapters might be rough, but we can dare to have hope that the end will be glorious.
