Homily

A few months ago, my brother-in-law became ill and developed a very bad cough. They admitted him to the hospital and began treatment for pneumonia. When that treatment did not work, they looked again and finally told him that he had a cancerous tumor in his lung. And no, he's not a smoker. Of course, that was a shocking piece of news and all of a sudden his life was dramatically changed in a way he never anticipated. I think of Dave Olszyk who was simply crossing the street and in just a moment of not paying attention, his foot is run over by a car. He has spent over a month in the hospital and I lost track of how many operations have been performed on his foot—eight? nine? Just as true as the car in the road, he never saw this coming either. His injury is not life-threatening but it has turned his life upside-down.

Then there's the boy in today's Gospel reading who suffered from a spirit that surely made his life extraordinarily difficult, and I have to wonder if he had scars from burns suffered when he fell into the fire. But one day he meets the apostles, and then he meets Jesus and his life is also dramatically changed forever, but not in a bad way, but in a very good way. He is made whole again. His father hoped in Jesus, and his hope was not disappointed. Jesus' disciples let him down, but Jesus did not disappoint. The man's hope was vindicated.

We also heard about being comforted by a sure and certain hope in God's promises when the letter to the Hebrews was read. And this reading so often makes me think about hope and what I hope in, or what you may hope in. It seems to me that a lot of my hopes are rather unimportant. "I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow. I hope they saved me a piece of cake." Some hopes are about other people: "I hope my brother-in-law is cured. I hope Dave has a quick and complete recovery." But for me, most of the hopes I hope in for myself are not of the greatest importance, nor are they hopes that carry me through life. They are simply hopes from day to day, time to time, income tax filing to income tax filing. Yet the epistle today challenges me to a greater hope, and it makes me think.

How certain is my hope in Jesus Christ? How often does that hope actually carry me through day to day? Am I thoroughly grounded in that hope and is it sustaining me even if I don't have a life-threatening situation facing me, even if I am not suffering from a bad accident? I don't think Dave would mind me telling you this, but there are times during the past weeks when he's been down. And he always says the same thing: "I just need to trust in God." That is very true, of course. But it's not just true for him; it's also true for me! Even though I am not severely injured or mortally ill, as far as I know, don't I also need to trust in God, don't I also need to place my hope in Christ? Am I saving my hope for a time when I think I will really, really need it, or should I not be living in that great hope today—when I'm tempted to think that I don't need it just right now because everything seems to be fairly well. I am managing my life fairly well, or so I think. Why the great need for hope?

As I think about it, my hopes for myself right now are in things that will pass, things that will change, things that may not be of much importance. My hopes for myself are also in fallible people who, like me, suffer from sin and weakness, and, just like me, may not deliver or be able to deliver when the need arises. My hopes for myself are based on my predictions about how my life and the world at large will continue to operate in the days ahead, even though I realize that at any moment all of that could change and those hopes would be dashed into the dirt.

What I truly need to focus on, what I need to develop and count on even more, just as the author of the epistle to the Hebrews urges his readers to do, is to hope in Jesus Christ. Not in some vague way, not as a remedy for cancer or injury, even though there is no wrong in hoping the Lord may heal me from any sickness or injury (and we should pray for that for ourselves and others)—but a hope that is even greater, a hope that truly supports my whole life, that guides my thoughts and my behavior, a hope that helps to define the very meaning of my life in this world and a hope that guides me in life until my last breath. I need to focus on my hope in Jesus Christ, because like the father in the Gospel, I believe, but I need help to believe. I hope, but I need help to firmly live in that hope. We can have those smaller hopes and even the bigger hopes if they are for good things for ourselves and for others. But we need to have that one, genuine, grounded and life-guiding hope that surpasses all of our other hopes—and that can and should be placed only in Jesus Christ. Even when times are good, He is still our only hope. Every other hope can and will pass away, be destroyed, fade from sight. Only Jesus Christ is our unchanging hope. Let us beg Him to build up our hope in Him and Him alone.