This Semester's Theme: Hoping Together
by Lau Guzmán, Communications Director ‘20-’21
“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
- Hebrews 11:1, ESV
Brothers and sisters, I have a confession to make: I’m exhausted. It’s October already, and I can’t seem to find a balance between coursework, my other responsibilities, and the heaviness that comes from living on the news cycle.
And I’m certain I’m not the only one. The easy response to times like these is to give up and give into despair, or to turn to Netflix or TikTok for endless, mind-numbing pleasure. In a way, it makes sense; three hours into a Netflix binge, the rational part of my brain knows I have to write an essay, but the irrational part of my brain, the one in charge, remains convinced that if I do not think about my responsibilities, they must not exist, and will eventually go away. This works, but very rarely. While some problems do just go away if neglected, most of them don’t, unfortunately.
To my dismay, nobody has yet invented a platform effective enough to get me to completely ignore the new reality ushered in by the pandemic. Unfortunately, we cannot go back to the pre-pandemic world, and it looks like this --whatever “this” is-- will be going on for a while, if not indefinitely. Therefore, escapism simply cannot be healthy in the long term. Instead, we must come up with a way to process our shock, anger, indignation, fear, disgust that is better than denial.
That is why I think that this year’s theme for CIFC, “hoping together” is so radical. Despite the uncertainties of living through the present moment, hope requires a thorough understanding of the current situation as well as the a decision to believe that something better will come. The questions then become:
For what do we hope? And more importantly,
How long? Will we really wait for infinity?
I don’t have an easy answer to these questions, but as a start, I offer a short list of things I’m hoping for, in no particular order:
That I’ll be able to graduate from NYU without crushing amounts of student debt.
That someone will find and distribute a COVID vaccine ASAP.
That my beloved friend struggling with anxiety will be ok.
·That I will get an A on my Political Theory quiz on Wednesday.
That Colombia will find a way towards peace and justice.
That I’ll be able to turn my weird Gallatin-esque concentration into a career.
That the upcoming election won’t be a total debacle
That the world will wake up to the effects of climate change and make systemic changes to both our private and public systems that cause climate change.
That I will end up spending my life with someone I love.
That racial justice will finally come to America.
For most of these, there is little I can do to execute my hope on a certain timeline: I cannot eliminate all racism or reverse climate change. I cannot erase centuries of oppression, violence, or carbon emissions. While I can study, be present, reduce my carbon footprint, check in on my friend, network, protest, enroll in a payment plan, vote, and date, ultimately, my hopes are tied to outcomes generated by people/places/things I cannot control.
And, to be fair, I have never controlled all that much. The pandemic has inverted my way of life and exposed a lot of brokenness and underlying systemic issues that plague the circles I inhabit, showing me that what I used to think was control over my life was more like willful self-delusion.
Despite all the factors outside of my control, the one thing I can decide is whether I choose to hope in the promises of God. Since the premise of hope is faith, and the premise of faith is trust, in order to hope in the promises of God, I must trust that they will come true. In short, I must trust that God is really at work in human affairs. I must trust in the promise that someday, all wrongs will be put right that redemption will come, and there will be no pain or sadness or injustice or oppression, no matter how tempted I am to despair and just give up or try and escape.
Perhaps this hope I have of eschatological justice is but another escape, a fool’s hope, a cop-out, a comforting fairy tale, an alternative to action. Perhaps it is. We’re living during a time where fake news is eroding the credibility of established media, and it is difficult to discern for what, or in whom, hope is justified.
That is why the clarifying adverb “together” in “Hoping Together” serves as such great comfort. It tells me I’m not alone, the only rogue person hoping for these things, alone in my digital echo chamber. It is reassuring to think that I have a diverse community alongside me, hoping with me, patiently waiting for the resurrection.
This year, we at CIFC pray and hope that God may teach us to expand the definition of “we who hope” to include everyone who hopes in the promise of the resurrected Messiah, notwithstanding denomination, fellowship, national origin, gender, or race.
Perhaps this is a radical prayer for CIFC, but I learned from the best. Revelation 22:17 reads;¨ The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.¨
Everyone’s invited to reject despair and escapism and embrace this radical, outrageous, liberating hope, even despite living through this difficult moment in time. The question is now, who will join us in hoping together? Will you?