Romans 4:18
He believed, hoping against hope, that he would become “the father of many nations,” according to what was said, “Thus shall your descendants be.”
This month we are going to pray with this verse from chapter 4 of the letter to the Romans, where Saint Paul presents to us, in a concise but profound way, the relationship between God and Abraham.
On one hand we have God, who goes searching for Abraham in order to be known by him and to touch not only his life but also that of a multitude of generations after him.
On the other hand, there is Abraham, a man already advanced in age, without children and therefore without future. In the Semitic world, in fact, being childless meant falling into oblivion after one’s death, because no memory or trace of oneself would remain behind. In other words, it was understood as ceasing to exist.
Thus, Abraham finds himself in a situation with no way out. It might be easy for us to relate to him. Maybe we are dealing with a problem that appears to be unsolvable, or we have been nurturing a desire that never comes true, and we are tempted to despair.
I personally call these situations the “walls of the impossible” because they make us experience painfully the limitations of our earthly life. And yet, God seems to want to come and meet us in these dead ends. Hasn’t Christ entered our tomb, rolling away the stone and opening for us the way to Life?
God enters Abraham’s dead end and opens an unforeseen path. He does it, though, in his own way, not offering a quick solution to the problem, as we would like, but rather a promise. The promise is a divine word that calls Abraham, and each one of us, into a personal relationship with God, into a covenant made of faith and hope.
The promise sets us again in motion because it opens wide a door in the wall, onto new and unexpected horizons. The divine promise generates hope, the real one. Hope is a gift of the Holy Spirit. It comes straight from the Kingdom of Heaven. It takes roots here, now making new life bud forth in our history.
Being from God, hope always surpasses us. Abraham had asked for a son, but God offers him descendants as numerous as the stars of the sky and the sand on the seashore. He will bless not just an heir but the whole of humanity, especially those who will believe in God as he did.
What God wants to offer us is more than what we could ever imagine. His gift is a very real friendship with him. When he enters our story, we become able to hope against hope because light begins to lighten our darkness. No, not all the problems are solved, but life begins to flow powerfully in despite them.
Here is a little testimony, found in an old, handwritten journal, many years ago:
Despite all of that, by God’s grace I found the way to react in the spirit of courage. I had understood that there was no other way to solve my sad problem than taking the situation as it was, with resignation and accepting God’s will.
I remember a particular moment, one night, when assaulted by pain I turned my eyes to Heaven and said to the Lord, “If you want, make me go back home to my dear family, which I so much desire, or make me remain here”. I had arrived at the point that everything was okay, with great resignation.
These words were written by a very dear person, my grandfather Celeste, after whom I was named. During World War II, called to arms, he ended up being caught and detained together with his fellow soldiers. They were sent to Poland, in prison work camps and he got sick there because of inhuman living conditions.
What’s more, for two long years he was not able to give news of himself to his family nor to hear from his wife and two young children (one of them was my dad, at the time only 8 years old). They did not know anything about him, and he had no idea what might be happening to them in the midst of the war. A real torment for his heart.
These words, written many years after the facts, express with great simplicity how light and hope entered the darkness of imprisonment: through prayer.
Grandpa passed when I was still little. He had spent the thirty remaining years of his life after the war, infirm, bound to the use of crutches and a wheelchair, in great pain. The few memories I hold of him are of a serene, gentle, smiling man. With time I discovered, especially through my dad’s stories, what a man of faith, prayer, and compassion for others my grandfather was. He was a true apostle to the sick.
How did he find the strength to keep on hoping, both during the war and then in the long years of sickness? How did he stay open, serene, generous? Those simple words, found in his journal, opened before my eyes a glimpse of his relationship with God. They have stayed with me, becoming a source of courage.
It is not a matter of accepting evil and letting ourselves be crushed by suffering, rather of recognizing God entering our dead ends and surrendering to his action, his care, his will of goodness. Surrendering into his hands opens the door to divine hope, which is more than human hope, it is the entrance of eternal life and infinity into the finite and limited situations of earth.
God’s promise always surpasses the purely human horizons and leaps into the future of the Kingdom of Heaven. The Father never promises that everything will be okay, but that death has already been overthrown by life, that evil no longer has the power to destroy us, and that everything can work for the good of his children.
God’s promise is an anchor in the storm, a landmark in the desert, a flame that keeps burning even when a long waiting seems to put out our desire. His promise assures us that we can bear fruit with him in any situation. A fruit that remains forever.
For personal reflection:
- What promise is the Father’s gift to me? What has he already sown in my heart? What is my anchor in the storms of life?
- Today we can pray with the graces we have already received, like the Word of God that has already touched our hearts, or we can ask for the grace to hear the promise that the Father always whispers to our hearts.
This month’s meditation is by Sr. Celestina, AVI.
