May hope be with you

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a plucky girl is chosen from the backwater of an empire to fulfill a great destiny.

George Lucas, and now Disney, have rounded out the Star Wars galaxy by including a religious dimension in their world.  Not that it's a real religion.  But it's not entirely original, either.  The Force seems to be the product of a jin of Eastern mysticism and a dollop of New Age bejabber, perhaps with a parsec or so of Newtonian physics swizzled in.  And maybe a pint or two of Harry Potter's wizardry world.

But it seems fair to say that Christianity has made a contribution to the Force as well.  And it's on - if you'll forgive me - forceful display in the latest installment of the Star Wars franchise, "The Last Jedi."

I am sorry it was released so late into Advent.  Because, in my estimation, it makes for terrific Advent viewing.  Not because of the light sabers and blasters and X-wing fighters and all that typical Star Wars techno-geek stuff.  The current film is crammed full of that sort of thing, and if that's what you like, it's definitely worth seeing, but I don't find spiritual edification in technology.  Nor am I recommending it in particular because of the courage of the protagonists, another Star Wars staple, although courage is a fine virtue in the Christian tradition, and it does bring us a good deal closer to our Advent mark.

I'm recommending the film because it's a paean to hope.  Actually,  the last two releases (which, to those not initiated in the franchise, are not in sequential plot order) have featured the virtue of hope.  And to contemplate hope is to spend time well during Advent.

In our prosperous and satiated culture, it's not easy to grasp what spiritual hope really is, and so it is helpful that this film, and the one before it,  "Rogue One", illustrate hope pretty memorably.  We tend to use the word "hope" when stating a wish to have one of our desires fulfilled, as in, "I hope I get the promotion", or "I hope I get a new game system for Christmas."

I don't wish to give away too much of the plot of the newest film, except to note that the situation is desperate throughout.  And hope, while perhaps not born directly of desperation, is a response we can make to desperate circumstances.  Hope of this sort may not be native to us; indeed the Catechism of the Catholic Church notes that spiritual hope relies on the grace of the Holy Spirit (CCC 1817).  I think many of us find despair and cynicism more conducive.  Hope seems to be rooted in knowledge or promises received from the past, and points us to a better, more just future.  Characters cling to hope in this newest Star Wars film, not least because it's all they have.  And hope often appears too a slender reed.

In the Gospel passage for this Fourth Sunday of Advent, Mary gives her remarkable response to the angel Gabriel's remarkable announcement.  This Galilean girl never ceases to fill us with wonder, does she, with her assent?  If I were in her place, I'd struggle to get past, "There's a strange man in my room."  And her "May it be done to me according to your word" is just so imprudent.  Nothing would be easier than saying, "Uh, no thanks.  I'd rather marry the carpenter.  I'd rather not be shunned or banned or worse.  I'd rather not be a single mom."  That would have been prudent.  But hope often is opposed to prudence.  Hope leads us to take risks, on behalf of something larger than ourselves.  We know that we may not live to see hope's fulfillment.  That's part of hope, too - that we believe in a cause that's greater than our own comfort, our own skin.




Jesus used the phrase "Be not afraid" pretty frequently in the Gospels.  Be not afraid.  Don't be prudent.  Prudence is the path to extending the desperation of your circumstances.  Choose hope instead.  Take risks for the sake of something greater.  Don't listen to your prudent, self-interested heart.  Listen to the angels instead.