Carry our Crosses in Hope
Being Pilgrims of this Jubilee Year
In a world afflicted by despair, relativism, and moral confusion, the Church enters the Jubilee Year of Hope with divine timing. As the faithful mourn the passing of Pope Francis and embrace the newly elected Pope Leo XIV, we are reminded that hope is not a vague emotion or abstract sentiment. It is a theological virtue, divinely infused in our souls, calling us to aspire toward the impossible: eternal life in communion with the Triune God.
"Hope is the theological virtue by which man aspires to heaven and eternal life" (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, II-II, q.17, a.1).
From the outset, we need to ground the conversation in humility, acknowledging our need for grace and conversion. This is not a motivational speech. It is a wake-up call. We are sinners in need of salvation. And we cannot begin to speak of hope without laying bare our dependency on divine mercy.
Hope, as the Catechism teaches, is “the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ’s promises” (CCC 1817). This desire is not rooted in optimism or sentiment. It is rooted in the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
We need to consider the final days of Pope Francis with reverence and realism. The Holy Father, who initiated the Jubilee of Hope, nearly died multiple times before his passing. His death—coming providentially the day after Easter—was, in a sense, a punctuation mark of divine grace. But the caution is necessary: do not canonize. This modern impulse to sentimentalize death is the fruit of what Christian Smith termed "moralistic therapeutic deism." It teaches that everyone is basically good and heaven is automatic. But here, we must insists: define good. Without God, goodness is relativized to mere comparison.
“Heaven is the eternal dwelling place of the child of God who has chosen to receive the love of God and respond to it with a full yes.”
Christianity is not a default setting. It is a free ascent of intellect, will, and moral life in response to God’s self-gift. Heaven is not earned by decency. It is received by grace and responded to by fidelity. As a powerful note, we must remember, "Heaven is impossible"—without grace.
The election of Pope Leo XIV—formerly Robert Prevost—stands as a signpost in salvation history. Many Americans exulted in pride, celebrating his Chicago roots and love for the White Sox. But this nationalistic lens is short-sighted. Instead, we should see in this election a summons. God has raised up a shepherd from our soil not for us to boast but for us to follow into holiness. If we miss that, we miss the entire point.
“God called someone born and raised in North America to become the Holy Father… Take this as a sign of calling you and me to moral accountability.”
The rhythm of this Jubilee Year is interrupted by papal transition, but the grace remains. We are pilgrims of hope. And to be pilgrims means to walk toward a final destination. Our journey is heavenward. Just as Helena of the Cross set out on pilgrimage in the 4th century, we are summoned to a journey of grace.
Helena, the mother of Constantine, sought the true Cross with the conviction of a saint and the heart of a mother. She traversed from Rome to Jerusalem, defying cultural expectations of imperial queenship, and recovered the wood upon which hung the salvation of the world. She was not moved by sentiment but by hope.
This same hope is offered to us. The Incarnation, the Passion, the Resurrection, and the Ascension are not metaphors. They are history. They are the hinge upon which the cosmos turns. And they demand everything of us. I exhort us, therefore:
“Every time you approach anything about the faith, prayerfully ask the Holy Spirit to open your eyes to see it as new.”
Christian hope is not theoretical. It is practical. It is the lived virtue that animates every choice, every sacrifice, every prayer. Hope makes martyrs possible. Hope makes saints possible.
Aquinas defines virtues as stable dispositions of the soul. Hope, then, is not a fleeting feeling—it is a habit, one that we must actively cultivate. And because it is theological, it is infused by grace. Yet we must cooperate with that grace. As St. Augustine taught: "God who created you without you, will not save you without you."
Natural hope aspires to earthly goods. Supernatural hope longs for heaven. And this longing informs every area of our lives. Allow me to clarify: “Hope is grounded in the will. You can choose to hope.”
In the Eucharist, the veil between heaven and earth is thinned. The Mass becomes the place where heaven kisses earth. If we love others, we will bring them to that threshold of eternity. We will evangelize, not out of obligation, but out of joy. Because the greatest act of love is to bring others to heaven.
The Jubilee Year is patterned on the Jewish tradition of rest, restoration, and return. Leviticus 25 outlines the 50th year as a year of liberty—slaves freed, debts forgiven, and land restored. Likewise, the Christian Jubilee is a time of spiritual liberation. But this freedom is not license. It is the freedom of the children of God.
“Christ paid a debt he didn’t owe because we owed a debt we couldn’t pay.”
We are called to bind ourselves to Christ in loving fidelity. Just as indentured servants in the Old Testament would willingly bond themselves to masters they loved, we too are called to bond ourselves to Christ, the Master who became a slave for our sake (cf. Phil 2:7).
The modern world is collapsing under the dictatorship of relativism, as Benedict XVI warned. Truth is treated as subjective, morality as personal preference. But Christianity proclaims a scandalous claim: Truth is a person. And He was crucified.
“If everything is true at the same time, then nothing is true.”
Hope begins by reclaiming the shock of the crucifixion. Christ did not die for abstractions. He died for you and me. The cross is the axis of history. And in the resurrection, the impossible became real. We do not hope in myth. We hope in a man who walked out of a tomb.
Thus, this Jubilee Year is not a liturgical theme. It is a cosmic call to renewal. And if heaven is real—and it is—then every thought, word, and action must be reoriented.
As C.S. Lewis wrote:
“Christianity, if false, is of no importance. If true, it is of infinite importance. The one thing it cannot be is moderately important.” (Mere Christianity)
Therefore, as pilgrims of hope, let us walk with eyes fixed on the Cross, hearts anchored in the Eucharist, and lives shaped by the sure promise of resurrection.
“Always be ready to give an answer to anyone who asks you the reason for the hope that is within you” (1 Peter 3:15).
This is our hope. This is our call. This is our Jubilee.