H O P E
T he lingering malaise of 2020 has affected my sense of time. One of the reasons I appreciate the liturgical seasons is the grounding it offers, it invites us into an intentional focus for a period of time. The simplicity of Advent has always drawn me. This year, as we lit the prophetic candle for HOPE, I sobbed because hoping feels hard. Prophets reimagine hope for us and we are all called to be prophetic, but prophets are rarely accepted for their gifts. My prayer is to practice the stubborn hope of God, the hoping of the One who never stops holding us. I lit my candle for all those that are not accepted in our communities The strangers who are different than me The truthtellers The weirdos The grieving The ones struggling with mental illness The poets The ones whose sins are public The outcast The rightfully angry The ones turning tables outside our temples The exhausted The ones that exclaim “I can’t breathe” I lit my candle to honor you To see you To see myself To try and hop...