Hope never comes alone. And when she comes, she comes in the way of a little girl.
When she arrives, it is in the midst of faith and love—a constellation of three stars, with hope in the middle. They have each travelled an immeasurably long way. Faith shines out of pure confidence, love shines out of pure might. Hope, however, blinks—like a star that has caught too many specks of dust in her eyes along her path. She seems small, as if cowering within herself, as if resisting. A rebellious child. A lonely child.
At one point it can seem like she is all alone. Has she, perhaps, been abandoned by faith and love? At other times, she almost disappears under the sublime weight of her two companions.
In 1912, the French poet Charles Péguy wrote a free verse poem on hope.1 He had made a journey on foot that year to Chartres, in the name of hope, because his son was ill. Whilst in Chartres, he rediscovered his inner self and healed his own soul. Many more pilgrimages followed. Péguy died among his fellow soldiers on September 5, 1914 during the first days of the war at the front near Meaux, which is on the pilgrimage route to Chartres.
In his poetic hymn to hope, Péguy says that even God is surprised when he looks at hope; he is surprised by “cette petite fille de rien du tout“–this small, inconspicuous girl who attracts no attention. Yet, God says to himself, it is she who, in her own special way, leads faith and love along. For she alone is capable of seeing that which does not yet exist and that which presents itself as if it might never be. She loves what does not yet exist above all else, because it is pure possibility and it means always keeping the door open. A closed door tells of predestination or expectation, and she is hope.
Hope spans the all-encompassing arch between the pillars of faith and love, like a bridge on which the past and the future continually meet anew. This is where love becomes confidence and faith becomes might and time is transformed. Hope is the opening in the archway. In every instance that time and eternity touch each other, hope is present. The storms of current events, both small and large, constantly blow through this archway and settle down again. Dark skies turn into clear skies and back again.
Those who pass through the arch into the unknown look at each other in awe. They do not know whether they will continue; they only know that they are going. They can’t stop wondering about this sudden and unexpected lightness that they have never experienced before. How did their hearts become so full and light at the same time? Some turn around one last time. Wasn’t there a little girl at that opening? Where could she have gone?
She is in them now—staying with them as long as they are walking. And growing with every step.
Illustration Gilda Bartel
