Living Signs of Hope

Dear Saint Mary’s Friends,

At Mass this past Sunday, I was struck by how the readings for the second Sunday of Advent invited us to imagine a future not yet realized and asked us to consider how we might live differently in the present to prepare for it. Those passages reach across time—lifting our eyes from what has been, through what is, toward what might yet be. They are, in their own ways, messages about hope—not the shallow optimism that ignores hardship, but the deep, resilient hope that grows when we believe that the future can be better than our present moment. This is an important message for a college community, especially one whose motto is “Spes Unica.”

The first reading, from Isaiah, painted one of the most capacious visions of peace and reconciliation that I know: wolves and lambs, leopards and kids, lions and calves living together in harmony. It is an almost impossible image—and yet, it is offered not as a fantasy, but as a promise. Isaiah reminds us that new life can spring from what appears lifeless, that “a shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse.” Something long dormant can hold the seed of something astonishing. The second reading, from Romans, told us that everything written in the past was written to teach us, to give us endurance, and to encourage our hope. Christ’s life, Paul asserts, is the embodiment of God’s long faithfulness—a reminder that fulfillment often comes slowly, across centuries, through the patient unfolding of community.

And in Matthew’s Gospel, we heard the voice of John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness, preparing the way for one he has not yet met. John embodies the hopeful posture of Advent: he lives as though the future is already on its way. He calls the people to readiness, not complacency—to the work of aligning their lives with the promise that is coming toward them.

Listening to these readings, I found myself thinking about what gives us hope today. And in that moment, I realized that one of the great privileges of working in a college community is that our daily work is an act of hope. Every class, every conversation, every challenge and discovery unfolds with a quiet conviction: the future will belong to the students we are accompanying today, and they will shape it with courage and imagination.

In a world that often feels fraught—politically, environmentally, socially—it is easy to become discouraged or to imagine that nothing can change. But then I spend time with our students, and discouragement recedes. Their questions, their energy, their willingness to imagine something better, their refusal to accept that what is must always be—these are living signs of hope. They remind us that Isaiah’s vision of harmony is not naïve: it is a provocation. They remind us that the “shoot from the stump” is not merely a metaphor: it is a description of how new life emerges again and again in human communities when we make space for it.

At Saint Mary’s, we prepare students to be agents of that new life. We encourage them to bring forth healing where there is fracture, justice where there is inequity, compassion where there is cynicism. We invite them to take part in their own becoming—to cultivate the intellectual, spiritual, and moral habits that allow hope to take root and grow.

This year, I find myself feeling this hope in a more personal way as well. Early in January, I will hold my first grandchild! The anticipation of new life has a way of clarifying what really matters. But the truth is, I experience the same sense of possibility every time I walk across campus or sit with a group of students in my office. Engaging with young people is one of the great privileges of this role. Their presence reminds me daily that hope is not passive; it is something we nurture, something we choose, something we practice together.

As we continue this season of Advent—a season of waiting, watching, and preparing—I am grateful for the ways our community embodies hope. We are grounded in a rich past and attentive to the challenges of the present, but we lean toward the future with purpose and expectation. We prepare the way not only for our students but also for one another, trusting that something new and beautiful is always trying to be born.

May this Christmas season bring you moments of quiet reflection, renewed hope, and joyful anticipation. And may the light that will begin to grow in the winter weeks after the solstice, strengthen all of us for the work ahead.

December 11, 2025