This is part of a series entitled, “The Reason for Our Hope.” Read the series introduction here. To see other posts in the series, click here.
At the Easter Vigil, with the faithful gathered together in a dark church around the newly lit and christened Paschal Candle, a deacon will chant the Exsultet. This ancient hymn of unrestrained joy contains one seemingly out-of-place, despondent couplet:
Our birth would have been no gain,
had we not been redeemed.
Chilling, sobering words for an otherwise joyful night.
Such somber words on a night of supreme joy merit investigation. One honest look at the world is all it takes to perceive the immensity of its suffering. The world is full of suffering people—which includes us, so often marked by varied internal struggles and deep pain. People strive endlessly to fill their hearts with love, yet it often remains empty.
In a world without Christ, one ought to entertain the doubts of the meaning of life. The author of Ecclesiastes wrestled with this very same question:
For the lot of mortals and the lot of beasts is the same lot: The one dies as well as the other. Both have the same life breath. Human beings have no advantage over beasts, but all is vanity. Both go to the same place; both were made from the dust, and to the dust they both return (Eccl 3:19-20).
Upon reading this, one might think that perhaps we are better off not existing in the first place. This pessimism would all be true if Christ had not risen from the grave. “If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain”
(1 Cor 15:14).
But he has, and our faith is not in vain. The deacon continues in his chant:
O wonder of your humble care for us!
O love, O charity beyond all telling,
to ransom a slave you gave away your Son!
If Christ did not redeem us, our birth would be a curse. We would be consigned to a pointless life of birth, toil, and then death. But of course, Christ came to save us. God has redeemed us from our slavery to sin through His only Son. And because of this—and only because of this—we can now have hope.
“In his great mercy [God] gave us a new birth to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” This hope is the source of our joy. This joy is not naive; it recognizes that we have to suffer through various trials during our lives. Yet because of our hope, we “rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy” as we seek the salvation of our souls (1 Pet 1:3-9).
Hope is the strength needed for our journey to heaven. We have been redeemed by Christ, yet we still have to journey in this dark valley of tears. Although we do not yet see Christ or the fullness of his redemption, this does not mean that our hope is deficient, for “hope that sees for itself is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees?” (Rom 8:24-25).
We hope for what we do not see, and this hope gives us joy (Rom 15:13). We are empowered to persevere through our struggles into the joy promised to us by Christ. Paul encourages us to “rejoice in hope, endure in affliction, [and] persevere in prayer” (Rom 12:12).
We are called to bear life’s difficulties with heaven in mind. Christ has come to save us, and this gives infinite meaning to our lives—our birth was not in vain. Every suffering, no matter how great or small, can serve to further us toward our final home of heaven. This power to persevere comes from hope, which will not disappoint (Rom 5:3-5).
The steady flame of the Paschal Candle reminds us of our unwavering hope—the only hope that can give meaning to our lives. Rooted in this hope, the deacon concludes his chant by asking the Father to keep this flame alive in our hearts:
May this flame be found still burning
by the Morning Star:
the one Morning Star who never sets,
Christ your Son,
who, coming back from death’s domain,
has shed his peaceful light on humanity,
and lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.
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Photo by Fr. Lawrence Lew, O.P.
