The Rev. Canon Jan Naylor Cope: Finding Hope in the Darkness
“Come, thou long expected Jesus, born to set thy people free; from our fears and sins release us, let us find our rest in thee.” In the name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
On this third Sunday of Advent, we find ourselves one week away from celebrating Christmas. That may come as a shock to some of you. It’s shocking to me, to be honest. It’s not like the date changed, but for some reason Christmas has crept up on me this year. The more I thought and prayed about it, I understood why. This year, it seems as if there is too much darkness in this world. The anticipatory joy that I’ve experienced awaiting Christmas in previous years has been hard to come by. Look across the landscape with wars raging in the Holy Land and Ukraine, and the unimaginable suffering and death. Turning to our own country, the political discourse and discord are just devastating. Every day you think it can’t get worse, and then it does.
So, I find myself struggling a bit: just where do we find hope today—in our time and circumstances? The words of the prophet Isaiah that we heard this morning are a great comfort to me and a source of hope because these are God’s words of comfort, consolation, and commitment—not just for years past, but for all time. God promised to send one to bring good news to the oppressed, “to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim liberty and release to the prisoners—to proclaim, to provide, to give”— themes of justice, hope, anticipation, and deliverance. I don’t know about you, but these are words that I need today.
You’ll recall that it is this passage that Jesus reads in his hometown synagogue in Nazareth, as he’s about to launch his public ministry. He reads this passage, as recorded in the gospel of Luke, sits down and says, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” He goes on to explicate and explain. At first, things go pretty well with the hometown crowd. They’re proud; he’s the hometown son. But then his critique cuts a little too close for comfort and the crowd becomes enraged. They drive him out of the synagogue to the edge of the city, and they’re prepared to hurl him over the cliff! But scripture tells us that he passes through the midst of them and goes on his way.
Jesus pointed the way. Part of our hope, my friends, is that Jesus came to show us what was needed to bring about the Kingdom of God in our time, and that we as followers of Christ are to go and do likewise: to bring Good News to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty and release to the prisoners. That’s our job. And Jesus promised to never leave us or forsake us and to be with us to the end of the age. That very spirit of God, that light that shines in the darkness abides in each one of us. If only we can see it, if only we can be it.
I was reminded of this message of hope in Christ by a very good friend and Cathedral colleague late last week. Chris Robinson is one of our IT gurus at the Cathedral, and he happened to mention to me, as he was helping me with yet another one of my computer glitches, that his son, Christopher Robinson II, who’s a sophomore at High Point University, had been asked to film a short Advent meditation. Chris thought I might like to see it and I assured him that I did. The video so inspired me. I want to share a bit of it with you so it might inspire you too. This sophomore speaks so powerfully about hope and faith, particularly in these dark times. He starts the meditation by saying, I want to speak to you about hope. He reminds us that Jesus is our hope, and that the candles we light during Advent “represent that kernel of goodness in a world seemingly overwhelmed with evil and darkness . . . and yet as tiny as a candle, its light becomes brighter because of the mighty hope we have in Jesus. . . . Jesus was motivated by love and hope, and he rescued us from our hopelessness.” Christopher then goes on to say that we should take that to heart and help others to find hope in Jesus.
Mr. Rogers reminded us that in frightening and difficult times, if we look for the helpers, we will see the helpers. Sometimes we’re the helpers and sometimes we’re the recipients of that help. I invite you to think about times in your life that were challenging and perhaps there was a mentor, a helper who crossed your path and helped to touch and transform you. Maybe it was a teacher, a coach, a friend or a family member—or perhaps even a pastor—someone who took you from where you were to a totally different place.
On Christmas Day, there’s a new movie that’s going to be released that’s based on a book that was published about ten years ago. It’s a true story and an amazing book that so inspired me at the time. The book is The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown. He writes about an incredible time in history— during the depths of the Depression—when against all odds, nine young men from the University of Washington who were members of the crew team pulled off the unimaginable. Those nine college students became national champions. Now, all of them came from working class families, some from abject poverty, others from the most dysfunctional and absent families that you can’t even imagine. But they shared some things in common. They were strong, they were mentally tough, they were committed. That was enough to make them competitive, but it wasn’t enough to make them win.
Into their lives came a mentor, someone who touched and transformed them. His name was George Pocock, and he was a world class boat builder. In fact, he built the shells that they competed in. He was someone who seemed to be able to look really deeply into people. He was someone who saw hope when a boy thought there was no hope. He was someone who saw skill when skill was obscured by ego or anxiety. He was someone who understood the fragility of confidence and the redemptive power of trust. What he told the boys was that if they really wanted to win, they needed to not be nine individuals in a boat with their egos and their own self-interest.
Instead, they had to open their hearts, care about one another, trust and love one another, and probably scariest of all, depend on one another. If they could do all that, they would be one boat—one boat acting in harmony, balance, and rhythm, which Pocock said were the essentials of life. This unlikely team from the University of Washington won the National Championship, beating out all the elite Eastern schools who’d been at this sport much longer than they. Not only that, they also went on to the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, and right under the eye of Hitler, won the gold medal. You see, they were in one boat pulling the oars in the same direction—harmony, balance, rhythm, caring for one another, loving one another, trusting one another, and depending on one another.
My friends, in these last days of Advent, I invite you to consider what it would be like if we were all together in one boat, caring for one another, loving one another, trusting one another, and depending on one another. What might we accomplish to help bring about the Kingdom of God in our time? Writing about George Pocock years later, one coxswain said, “In his presence Washington crewmen always stood, for he symbolized that for which God’s children always stand.”
Hope is there—embodied in you and me. That light that abides in each one of us can touch and transform lives even in the most difficult and dark of times. Let it be so for you and for me. I want to leave you with the closing prayer that Christopher Robinson II offered in his Advent meditation: “My prayer this Advent season is that as we celebrate the birth of a king, we will also celebrate the birth of a living hope sent by God to free us, save us and restore us. From my heart to yours, happy Advent, everyone.”
Amen.