From time to time, I like to revisit a sermon by Jeremiah Wright, pastor emeritus of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago, titled, “The Audacity to Hope.” I always find inspiration from Wright’s words and particularly I find solace in the ways he talks in this sermon about maintaining one’s hope while feeling your hope unraveling at the seams.
In the sermon, he illustrates the point, the audacity to hope, using a painting by George Frederic Watts. Titled Hope, the painting depicts the image of a tattered and depressed woman, also named Hope, with covered eyes, worn clothes, head bowed, sitting on top of the world playing on a harp with a single string. Wright describes this painting as “a study in contradictions, because the title of the painting and what is depicted on the canvas of the painting seem to be in direct opposition to each other.”
Darrell Hamilton II
Hope is a timely illustration reflecting the moments that might make us feel hopeless throughout the years. For instance, Hope’s body is bandaged and bruised as if you could count her as one among many victims of an American mass shooting, police killings of unarmed Black women and men, migrants being teargassed at the southern border, or anti-Zionist protesters being beaten and arrested on college campuses.
Hope’s body is withered and famished, reminiscent of countless images we see of women and children in Gaza, Lebanon and the underreported humanitarian crisis currently happening in Sudan. Moreover, Hope’s eyes are covered, illustrating, in my mind, her inability to fully witness the world and its people on the cusp of our own damnation.
But, nevertheless, Hope remains sitting on top of the world playing a harp with a single string. And just above Hope’s shoulder is the image of a small star shining in what Wright describes as “a symbol of further hope beyond the central figure herself.”
Several years ago, I attended the Space for Grace Conference held by the American Baptist Home Mission Society, and I heard Raphael Warnock, pastor of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, before his historic election as U.S. senator from Georgia, preach a powerful sermon titled “Making Music in a Messed-up World.” He used the story of Miriam playing the tambourine as the Israelites marched boldly out of Egypt to bridge the gap between the role of music and resiliency that makes hope hard to kill.
In his closing celebration, he made it clear why it is necessary to continue making music in a messed-up world, repeating the refrain: “The more you sing, the more you hear. And the more you hear, the more you remember. And the more you remember, the deeper your faith. And the deeper your faith, the more you sing.”
“Hope remains as long as hope refuses to be silenced.”
For years, this close has stayed with me as a lesson in hope because hope remains as long as hope refuses to be silenced. Faith is deepened as long as hope remains to “make a way out of no way” by playing music with a single string. And in a world messed-up by war, persecutions, worsening climate change, increases in famine and disease, and nationalistic and totalitarian politics, we need the audacity to hope.
We need hope to remain on top of the world, playing her harp with a single string, so we may continue singing to the tune of that old, blessed hymn:
Up above my head
I hear music in the air
And I really do believe
Yes, I really do believe
There’s a heaven somewhere
And the more we sing, the more we hear. And the more we hear, the more we remember. And the more we remember, the deeper our faith that there is a heaven somewhere. And it is God’s desire for heaven to make itself at home in the earth.
In the Gospel text for this first week of Advent, Jesus’s message to his disciples is about the audacity to hope (Luke 21:25-36). He begins by telling them about times to come that are not too dissimilar from our own.
For instance, Jesus says times will come when pastors and priests will conspire with the principalities and powers. The powerful and the privileged will collude to take advantage of the poor. Likewise, Jesus says the nation’s citizens will be overrun, and the government will be overtaken by insurrection. The nation will be so consumed with pride that it does not see the fall headed in its direction.
He says there will be signs in the heavens among the sun, the moon and the stars and people will faint from terror and fear because of what is occurring around them, and “they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory.”
Then, Jesus says, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
In other words, Jesus says keep your heads to the sky because above your immediate line of sight is what Wright would call “a sign of fresh hope.” Keep your head to the sky means to shift perspective, to expand point of view, to see and seek fresh hope beyond the hope, or lack thereof, we can immediately perceive. Jesus calls the disciples to have the audacity to hope.
“Our hope is not in hope, but our hope is in God.”
Advent is a season when we, too, are called to have the audacity to hope. To keep our heads to the sky because not only is our redemption drawing near, but also our help and our hope draws near.
For our hope is not in hope, but our hope is in God. And by dwelling in the shelter of the Most High and resting in the shadow of the Almighty, we will see the Son of Man coming on a cloud with power and great glory.
In 1973, Earth, Wind and Fire released a song called “Keep Your Head to the Sky” on their album titled Head to the Sky. The lyrics read:
He gave me the will to be free
Purpose to live his reality
Hey, and I found myself never alone
Chances came to make me strong
To step right up and be a man
‘Cause you need faith to understand
So we’re saying for you to hear
Keep your head in faith’s atmosphere
Keep your head to the sky
Surely, the clouds are gonna tell you why
During this season of Advent, Jesus calls us to keep our heads to the sky where he is seated on top of the world, at the right hand of the Father, and “Righteousness and Justice are the foundation of his throne.”
Jesus calls us to keep our heads to the sky because our redemption and our hope is drawing near. Keep your head to the sky and, surely, the clouds are going to tell you why.
Darrell Hamilton II serves as administrative pastor at First Baptist Church of Jamaica Plain, Mass., and as Protestant chaplain at Babson College in Wellesley, Mass. He is an ordained Baptist minister and graduate of Wake Forest School of Divinity. His ministry and leadership are focused on advancing diversity, inclusion and advocacy for the vulnerable and marginalized to inspire greater justice and love for all people.
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