March 8, 2026: Keep Hope Alive

Rev. Susan Frederick-Gray
Hope is essential, especially during the most difficult times. Hope isn’t just sunny optimism; it is a strength of spirit and perspective that helps us keep showing up for what we love.

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Sermon Text

Keep Hope Alive

Rev. Susan Frederick-Gray

UU Church of Bloomington

March 8, 2026

READING

Our reading is a reflection on hope by Václav Havel. Havel was a Czech playwright, poet, political dissident, and political prisoner living in Czechoslovakia, who, after the fall of communism, was democratically elected President of Czechoslovakia and then the Czech Republic. He died in 2011.

Havel writes:

“The kind of hope I often think about (especially in situations that are particularly hopeless, such as prison) I understand above all as a state of mind, not a state of the world. Either we have hope within us or we don't; it's a dimension of the soul; it's not essentially dependent on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation.

“Hope is... an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart; it transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons. Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but, rather, an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed.

“Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out. It is this hope, above all, that gives us strength to live and to continually try new things, even in conditions that seem as hopeless as ours do, here and now. In the face of this absurdity, life is too precious a thing to permit its devaluation by living pointlessly, emptily, without meaning, without love, and, finally, without hope.”

SERMON Keep Hope Alive

Our theme this month is Hope and what it means to be a Community of Hope. This morning, as we start off the month, let's look at three things:

1. What is hope?
2. Why is hope important?
3. How do we nurture and sustain hope in difficult times?

Number 1. What is hope?

The great American poet of the 19th century, Emily Dickinson gives us one

of the most memorable and beautiful definitions of hope. She writes,

“Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all…”

Such a powerful image. Her lyric invites “the thing with feathers” in each of our souls to sing out its tune - proudly, beautifully.

Like Václav Havel’s reflection on hope from our reading, Dickinson doesn't place hope in our circumstances, but in the depth of our souls. For Havel - he places it both in our heart and spirit, but also beyond us. He writes, “Hope is... an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart; it transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons.” And thank goodness, because if hope was conditional on our circumstances, it would be fleeting.

These definitions remind us that hope is not the same as optimism. People who are generally optimistic and those who are generally pessimistic can still be hopeful. Hope is not about outcomes, it is not about expecting everything will be alright. Rather, it is understanding that no matter the circumstances - even in the most dire ones - we still have a choice about how we will show up, that we can keep ourselves rooted in our values - in what matters, in what gives us meaning, in what we love. These do not waiver with passing circumstances.

So, hope is not about optimism or pessimism - it is a quality of the heart, of the soul, an orientation that can transcend what is immediately experienced and remain connected to what is good, what is life giving and meaningful - even if sometimes it is a tune only we can hear.

Now, number 2. Why does hope matter?

Born sixty years after Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes, the great American poet of the Harlem Renaissance would write not of the durability of hope - but what happens when it is lost. He writes,

“Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

“Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.”

This is how important hope is - for what is hope but a dream we hold for ourselves, our loved ones, our world - a dream of something possible, something beautiful, but not yet here. Hope keeps us connected to life, to love, to each other. And without hope, there is nothing to sustain our soul, our spirit; we can become disconnected from meaning, from joy, and from each other.

So, to the most important question, number 3. How do we keep hope alive, particularly in the most difficult conditions?

At its most basic level, hope grows from a feeling of connection. It might be the connection we feel to God, to the source of creation, the source of love, connection to our loved ones. It might be the connection we feel to our dreams, for what could be that lives not in the present moment but is “anchored beyond the horizon,” in the words of Havel. The key is this connection - to something deeper, something beyond our present circumstances - a fundamental connection to something that is larger than oneself.

And yet, even as Dickinson imagines “the thing with feathers that sings and never stops,” I imagine we have each known despair at some time or another. Knowing a loss so deep, we felt we might never know joy or laughter again. Knew the heartbreak of our dreams crushed, we were not sure if we would dream again. Experiencing the grief of believing change for the better was surely on the way only to see it get farther away. Felt despair at the violence and cruelty of humanity - wondering how we will ever transcend these cycles and culture of vengeance and conquest.

I have known despair - many, if not most of us have - maybe this week, maybe a lot recently. We do not need to feel ashamed or guilty because of this. Just because we feel despair - it doesn't mean that hope is lost.

The poet David Whyte says, “Despair is a season, a wave form passing through the body, not a prison surrounding us. A season left to itself will always move, however slowly, under its own patience, power and volition.” He invites us to be present to despair when that is how we are feeling, but to hold it gently, compassionately, to hold ourselves with compassion. To hold despair gently and breathe through it, to know it is not permanent, not a prison - but a season; that it will pass. For even in our most difficult moments, may we remember that this is not all that life has planned for us. And know that even when we can't quite hear it in the moment, hope is still singing its tune - and we will hear it again.

There can be a form of sunny insistent optimism that is so divorced from the challenges of life and reality that it becomes denial, a separation from life as it is rather than connection. This is similar to how pessimism without a connection to deeper meaning and values becomes nihilism, the belief that nothing matters.

Hope understands hard things and heartache. Hope cares about the world; it cares about others. A hopeful spirit, a hopeful orientation, can still feel despair.

It knows that some things will not be okay, but it also recognizes that we each still have a choice and agency in how we will respond in the midst of an unfair, unjust, and sometimes cruel world. And this agency, this ability to care, to choose love, to tend to things in our lives right now - our relationships, our friendships, our community, the land around us, the movements growing here and around the world against tyranny and oppression - all these things matter. They make a difference. They may not change the course of all that is happening, but you know, they could - and with time, they just might. For change is always happening. And if we give up on our dreams for our lives and the world - if we let our dreams die - life becomes “a barren field” and change toward what we love becomes impossible. Without hope, what chance do we have? What chance does our beautiful, broken humanity have?

The words of Holly Near's song “I Am Willing” come to mind:

“I am open and I am willing

To be hopeless would seem so strange

It dishonors those who go before us

So lift me up to the light of change…”

As Václav Havel's ending words from our reading remind us, “It is this hope, above all, that gives us strength to live and to continually try new things, even in conditions that seem as hopeless as ours do, here and now. In the face of this absurdity, life is too precious a thing to permit its devaluation by living pointlessly, emptily, without meaning, without love, and, finally, without hope.”

If you are feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of the challenges in our world, in your life, the enormity of grief, make room to feel that grief. Hold it gently, breathe through it. And also, alongside that practice, make room to tend to connection. Pay attention to the the living beings right around you - your loved ones, this community, the plants and animals in and around your home.

If you are finding it really hard to hear “that thing with feathers, that sings the tune without the words,” then start small. Tend to a potted plant, turn the compost, offer some care and attention to your loved ones, visit with a friend, take a moment each day just to look upon something beautiful, to connect to what is precious in life - a flower, something with beautiful color, a piece of art. Be present and mindful of what is around you. Breathe in connection, honor your heart, and breathe again. Find a way to connect to something you love beyond yourself - reminding you of your own place, your connection, in this incredible, interdependent web of creation.

Remember that our efforts make a difference. The care we bring to people and things in our lives make a difference in our lives and in theirs. And while there is much beyond our control, let us remember the many things that are in our power, including the spirit and orientation in which we show up in the world.

May we live with a hope that sees the world - its beauty and its pain - yet remains rooted in love, in connection, and in purpose and care. May we nurture the relationships, the community, and the work that is ours to do and keep on working, keep on marching, keep on planting seeds of hope for the world we dream about, a world of peace and freedom, love and world justice for all.