The world we are living in today is radically different from the one that existed when I began writing, over two months ago, some reflections on “hope” and some things that lie beyond the boundaries of hope.   If you read those earlier reflections, you will hear some “echoes” in this attempt to bring the vibrancy of hope into the parameters of this new reality. 

What I said in a postscript to one post is, I believe, still true: Certainly at no point in the eight-plus decades of my life has there ever been a time when hope has been so central in the lives of so many. In one stark sense, what we hope for in the face of this local, national, and global viral threat to health, to well-being, to life itself, lies completely outside of our ability to bring about. 

And yet, in another sense, without the efforts of countless individuals to respond wisely and cooperatively to this pandemic in whatever ways are within our capabilities and control—from offering our expertise where it is useful to simply “sheltering in place”—there is no way to combat and limit its insidious proliferation.

Which brings us to the central issue that now arises from my previous reflections on hope: What is the point of welcoming hope into our lives now as we face all the uncertainties of this pandemic?

I would reiterate, as I have asserted before,  that hope is a part of everyone’s life—it’s an inherent element of being a human being. As the late John Claypool, my friend and—although he didn’t know it—my mentor, said repeatedly in his book, The Hopeful Heart, “Hope is to the human spirit what breath is to the physical body—the very fuel that animates our being.” In the face of this pandemic, it may be stronger for some while others may struggle to retain the level of hopefulness they once had, but I am convinced that it is alive in the human spirit as long as breath animates the physical body. And it can be that “vehicle” that empowers and enables the drive toward an important goal.  If we have a vision for what we hope will happen and if it’s something we can somewhat control, hope can motivate us to take whatever steps we need to take to help bring it about.

Of course, we can and sometimes do hope for outcomes that are beyond our reach, even some that we might consider to be far-fetched. And although such hope does carry the threat of disappointment, perhaps when all is said and done, it is worth the risk, because there is always that category of things hoped for that happen not primarily because of my effort, but because of “something else.”

That said, I want to turn our attention to specific and practical ways that hope might play a role in what will be, optimistically, our coming “recovery” from the “shutdown” this pandemic has required, and what that means  

·       for our reclamation of some of the customary routines we have lost,

·       for the uncertainties about what the future might look like,

·       and for the sobering and, for some, the grief-inducing effect that the tens  of thousands of coronavirus cases and deaths have induced.

First of all, then, there are so may conventional routines or—by another name that captures their significance—“rituals” that we have lost during our weeks of being sheltered-in-place:  shaking hands, weddings, funerals, giving gifts, family dinners, birthdays, weekly lunches with a friend, book club meetings, regular gatherings with men’s/women’s groups, graduation ceremonies, and on and on. Some of these perhaps we can recover soon, others later, and some, perhaps, not at all. 

Although it’s a little past the time, it’s that last one I’ve been thinking about, no doubt because I spent my career in higher education. Thousands of graduates across the country have missed that opportunity to walk across a stage, with all eyes—including family and friends—upon them, as they shake hands with the institutional President or Provost, and receive that diploma they have earned. All kinds of substitutions have been made, from “virtual” ceremonies, to delays, to hoped-for rescheduled ceremonies, but it will never be the same. They have missed the ritual that recognizes their accomplishment and propels them into a new beginning—which is what “commencement” means!

In an Op ed piece in the Washington Post (5/17/2020), Kathleen Parker argues that “Lost graduations are ultimately trivial. But they remind us why rituals matter.” I’m not sure I agree with her about the triviality of lost graduations, but she makes a strong case in her article for the importance of rituals. In her words,

Simply put, they connect us to the past and future in a continuum of human experience that lends meaning to our existence. Rituals provide rest stops for the soul and reasons to believe that life has purpose.

She also makes a sound argument, based on the historic role of rituals in human life, that “Ritual connects us to our primordial selves.” I hope, and believe that we all hope, that life after Covid-19 will see us recovering at least some of those myriad rituals we have temporarily lost but which will be waiting for us in the parking lot of “things that matter.”

Coming a step further, having expressed that hope—and I’m sticking to it, by the way—I nevertheless turn now to the fact that no one really knows what all will “fall into place” as this pandemic lifts, or whether the threat that it may return in a “second wave” when colder weather reappears in the fall and winter will materialize.  While it seems likely that we will see incremental returns to many of the routines of our former lives—e.g. the ability to be physically present in restaurants, various business sites, gymnasiums, physicians’ offices, churches, etc.—they will begin with rules regarding masks, physical distances, timing and other procedures that were foreign to our lives “before.” And although there is pressure from “on high” to return to life as it was “before,” there is  no way for us to know when or if that will happen or, if it does, what the effects and/or repercussions might be if it happens too soon.

In a word, we do face uncertainties.  What role, then does hope play in such a world?  The first thing I would suggest is that we must decide what to hope for. Hope allows us to approach problems with a mindset and strategy-set that increases the chances that we will actually accomplish our goals but we must know what they are.  Let me suggest a thoughtful starting point with this quote from an article by Rebeca Solnit:

When this storm clears, we may . . . see where we were and where we should go in a new light. . . . We may have a profoundly different sense of ourselves, our communities, our systems of production and our future. . . .Hope offers us clarity . . . .And one of the things most dangerous to this hope is the lapse into believing that everything was fine before disaster struck, and that all we need to do is return to things as they were. Ordinary life before the pandemic was already a catastrophe of desperation and exclusion for too many human beings, an environmental and climate catastrophe, an obscenity of inequality. It is too soon to know what will emerge [from this pandemic], but not too soon to start looking for chances to help decide it. (“’The impossible has already happened’: what coronavirus can teach us about hope,” The Guardian, 4-7-2020.)

She offers a sobering glimpse into our life “before” and, while we know there was much that was good about it, we also know in our heart of hearts that she is  correct about some key things that were not. We only need look around us at the demonstrations, the protests, the riots that have erupted, even since I started writing this, over the murderous death of yet another black person at the hands—in this case, the knee—of the police to see the confirmation of her accurate and prescient “call outs” of desperation, exclusion, and inequality. While there is little any one of us can do on our own to resolve the pervasiveness of those problems, we can embrace a fervent hope for a radical change in our culture of structural racism, allow it to inform our own individual sensitivity to our interactions with people of color and other disenfranchised persons, and  propel us to join hands in concert with others who are prepared to turn hope into action.

Due to its total dominance in every news media, it is inevitable that this issue rises to the top of our consciousness, but that doesn’t mean that our hope for a better world than the one COVID-19 caused us to leave behind can’t be centered on other problems—the “environmental and climate catastrophe” that Solnit mentions, of course, but a host of other concerns in the realms of fair employment, health care, politics, religion, homelessness, hunger, and on and on—that cry out for action propelled by deeply felt hopes for solutions. In the words, again, of Rebecca Solnit,

“Hope calls for action; action is impossible without hope. . . . [It] is an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed. Hope is not a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. It is an axe you break down doors with in an emergency. Hope should shove you out the door, because .  . .To hope is to give yourself to the future – and that commitment to the future is what makes the present inhabitable” (Hope in the Dark)

Finally, at this writing, on June 1, 2020, the number of confirmed coronavirus cases in the U.S. alone stands at 1,852,839 with 106,651 deaths. In this environment, all of us tend to be more conscious of our mortality. 

• For some of us, “of a certain age,” that can mean hoping, just in case, to take some of the “end of our life” burdens off of loved ones—planning funerals, writing obituaries, checking wills, being more carefully in touch with family and close friends, etc.

• While this virus has been more deadly to older persons with health issues, it has also attacked persons of all ages. For some of the healthy, younger folks, the fervent hope to escape contracting this disease has led to careful observance of the recommended restrictions and practices—e.g. social distancing, wearing face masks, gloves, avoiding large crowds, etc.   Others in this population have chosen to throw caution to the wind and return to life as it was before the pandemic in the hope—or, in my opinion, the foolish confidence—that this “toss of the dice” will turn up in their favor, with no thought that others may be endangered by their gamble.

No matter where they may be in that spectrum, for everyone whose behavior and whose hopes have been affected by this consciousness of mortality, thoughts inevitably turn to what, if anything, lies beyond this life. It is unquestionable that the hope for “life after death,” in its many iterations, is one of the most tenacious of human longings.  

• Some of us who are confident of its reality would place achievement of this hope within human grasp based upon a faith commitment or upon a variously defined righteous life,

• while others would see this hope as a “gift” lying completely outside our reach. 

• and then there are others of us who acknowledge the prevalence of this hope—and may share it—but either cannot say that we “know” it will happen or are confident that death is truly final.

It is certainly fair to say thata belief in that “something beyond” can make the prospect of one’s own death and the loss of loved ones more bearable, and, for those who can embrace it, can make life with all of its ups and downs more positive, more hopeful.

In conclusion, finally, I yearn for hope to remain alive and well, and having now smothered you with my own words, the words of others, and with memorable poetic quotations, I want to leave you with three truly hopeful gifts of music. I hope you will listen to them, as you have time.  Each selection, specifically “tuned” to the pandemic in which we are living, genuinely offers hope in words, in images, in rich music, in haunting melodies.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uL52AuF4QzY  “Corona Nessun Dorma.” Parody, incredible voice(s)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gpoJNv5dlQ    “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” 300 Virtual Musicians

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5eYuUAV4YE4   “Alone Together.” Hauser, Worth every minute

Happy listening.  Grace and Peace to all.