Pope Francis says, “Patience, one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit, sustains our hope and strengthens it as a virtue and a way of life. May we learn to pray frequently for the grace of patience, which is both the daughter of hope and at the same time its firm foundation.” (Spes Non Confundit) We need to be patient to be able to hope, because otherwise, we will not give goodness the time to grow in ourselves and in our world. If I expect it all to happen at once, I will be disappointed, but if I realize that time is a friend and not an enemy to growth, I can be more hopeful. On the other hand, when I decide to act with hope, somehow my patience increases, because as Aquinas says, hope is a continued affirmation of what is good even though we do not yet possess that good.
I am a gardener and, in the months before the ground thaws, plant small tomato plant seedlings indoors under a grow light. I carefully plant the tiny seeds into seed starter mix in small cells, make sure there is the proper plant food and moisture, and wait. For many days, I go in, peek at their little cells, and find nothing. Sometimes I have wondered whether the seeds were duds, whether the moisture was right, or whether something might be “off” this year. Inevitably, though, it pays to stay the course, be patient, and give it time. Eventually those tiny seeds get going; first just the tiniest greenish-white stem pushes up, and soon, there are two small leaves as well. And I breathe a sigh of relief that the seeds were fertile. Of course, there is much more growth ahead, and my patience will need to continue well into July, when at least some plants will survive and provide us with delicious ripe midsummer tomatoes at last.
As an educator, I find an analogical situation with my students. Every year, my youngest students arrive with little experience in philosophy or theology, and each year, we start from the very beginning, reading Plato or Scripture and making our way through how to read texts together. It pays to be patient, even when students might find some ideas challenging or a lot of reading to wade through, because eventually something will click. I hear comments like, “Before reading Job, I had never really thought about what it means to be a good companion to someone who is suffering. But I’m starting to think about how this applies to my service work with people who are unhoused.” Or, “Aristotle’s idea of generosity makes sense to me, and I wonder how to be more generous, not only with money, but with respect to how I spend my time.” I hope that those small sprouts of ideas grow until someday, at least a few will bear fruit after graduation or even in the season of college life. But in most cases, I will never find out just how, and that is OK with me.
My students’ reflections give me hope not only because they have figured out something about Plato or Jesus, but also because in encountering texts with sincerity and attentiveness, something mysterious, beyond what I can name in advance, is forming them as persons. They are human beings who are seeking to live well and find through the authors an encounter with wisdom. Even if they do not always agree precisely with every idea that they find in those texts, the students are engaged with asking questions. As I teach, I have hope that the world is full of young people striving sincerely to make the world a more just and loving place, even if sometimes it feels as though we, as a society, are still far from that goal.
We might each ask, where is there hope in our lives, and what can we do to nurture that hope? How can we practice patience and trust in the meaningfulness of each of our lives as seed planters, even if we do not see the fruits of our labors immediately?
Participating in our Lenten read-along of On Hope? Share your thoughts about this week’s reading in the comments below. And post your thoughts, favorite quotes, or reactions with #lentreadalong and #jubilee2025 on social media.
