I Dwell in Possibility

In a Saturday Night Live skit from 2012 Cicily Strong ("The Girl You Wished You Hadn’t Started a Conversation With at a  Christmas Party") challenged Seth Myers to reveal what he wanted for Christmas; he responded by saying, “A new iPad.” Her wish? “An end to genocide.” That brought a rather bemused look from Myers, probably because it seemed to him an impossible request. She scolded him for his reaction. “Seth, wake up and smell the music. Open your iPad and learn what it takes to be a decent human being.” 

Despite the comedic setting, hers was the answer of the two requiring some measure of hope. You know, what Emily Dickinson calls “ a thing with feathers.” Or as she puts it elsewhere,

I dwell in Possibility –

A fairer House than Prose –

More numerous of Windows –

Superior – for Doors – (1)

My theology professor in seminary was frequently asked whether he believed in the resurrection and eternal life. His invariable response was, “Well, we can hope.” This was a less than suitable answer for some students. They were in the mood for quotes from the King James Bible. As a result they began challenging him and other faculty members about their beliefs concerning the “end times.”  This was during the huge popularity of Hal Lindsay, when any theology of value supposedly had a specific sort of apocalyptic foundation. It was also reminiscent of the religious leaders in early Jerusalem who waited until there was a public gathering, then tried to embarrass or discredit Jesus by entrapping him with legal questions.  The 1970’s students in question made little headway converting the faculty and, disquieted and upset, withdrew from classes. They enrolled elsewhere. 

It took others, like me, some time to see the sense of “Well, we can hope.” I began to understand that the teacher’s reply had no connection to hope for rain, safe travels, or a raise in pay. Instead it was linked to the repeated promise in the Hebrew Bible that God is faithful to save, and the New Testament assertion that hope, along with love and faith, abides. Besides, in the New Testament the foundation for hope is the belief in the resurrection of Christ. Without that, as Willie Wonka would say, “You get nothing.” (2) Or as Paul writes further, “And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. … If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” (3)

But hope, albeit faint, does surface occasionally. Annie Dillard writes about Miss Arvilla Pulver, the teacher in a one-room schoolhouse in an 1800’s Washington settlement. “Over time she had come to believe and pray that an educated, humane generation might actually arise from every American hamlet, and work selflessly for the nation, to break the power of the [business and banking] Interests, meliorate living and working conditions, ban corruption, end exploitation, and redistribute wealth.” (4)

In religious terms this, like the desire for an end to genocide, is probably more of a wish than a biblical hope. I embrace both, however, even if the humane generation of Arvilla Pulver only shows up in Washington DC.

Pastor Mike

1. Dickenson, Emily.  “Hope is a Thing with Feathers” and “I Dwell in Possibility.”  The Poetry Foundation. 
2. My apologies, since I just saw my grandson William in the play, “The Chocolate Factory.”  He was terrific.
3. I Corinthians 15:19
4. Dillard, Annie. The Living, p 67