I would like to begin today with lines from a poem written by Emily Dickinson:
“Hope is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all – “
It is a beautiful image. Emily Dickinson imagined hope as a small bird quietly perched in the human soul, singing its song even when storms rage around us.
But sometimes when I read those lines, I find myself imagining something a little different. Not just a bird, but an angel, placed quietly within the soul by God Himself – a quiet messenger reminding us not to surrender to despair, even when the storm grows so strong.
And today, many of us feel as though we are living in the middle of a storm.
Across our country and across the world, things are happening that weigh heavily on the heart. Corruption that once remained hidden has been exposed in ways that have shaken the public’s trust. Wars rage across the globe. Nations threaten one another. The moral confusion of our culture grows deeper each day.
But for many faithful Catholics, the deepest sorrow comes from what we see happening within the Church herself. There are pressures to compromise the priesthood. Pressures to weaken the reverence of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Pressures to treat the unchanging truths of the faith as though they could be adjusted to fit the spirit of the age.
When you see all of this together, it can weigh heavily on the heart. Sometimes it can even tempt us toward despair. So how do we keep going when the storm feels this strong?
For me, the answer always brings me back to the words of St. Paul. St. Paul knew suffering. Before his conversion he was Saul of Tarsus, and he actually took part in persecuting the early Church. When St. Stephen was martyred, Sacred Scripture tells us that the witnesses laid their garments at the feet of a young man named Saul, and Saul consented to Stephen’s death. But everything changed on the road to Damascus when Christ confronted him. The persecutor became the apostle. And from that moment forward, Paul would suffer greatly for the Gospel he once tried to destroy.
He was beaten. He was imprisoned. He was stoned. He suffered shipwreck. He faced danger almost everywhere he went.
In his letter to the Corinthians, he describes these trials:
“Of the Jews five times did I receive forty stripes, save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once I was stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I was in the depth of the sea” (2 Corinthians 11:24-25).
And yet, after all of that suffering, St. Paul could still say something extraordinary:
“For which cause I also suffer these things: but I am not ashamed. For I know whom I have believed, and I am certain that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him, against that day” (2 Timothy 1:12).
Those words later became the refrain of a hymn many people know:
“But I know whom I have believed,
And am persuaded that He is able
To keep that which I’ve committed
Unto Him against that day.”
St. Paul did not say that the storm was not real. He did not say that suffering would disappear. He said something far deeper and more powerful. He said that he knew whom he had believed. And that is where hope begins.
Hope is not pretending that the storm does not exist. Hope is knowing that even in the middle of the storm, Christ is still Lord.
The Church has passed through storms before. Persecutions, wars, corruption, confusion – every century has known its trials. Yet through every storm the Church continues to sing that quiet song of hope. And perhaps that is why the season of Lent speaks so deeply to the human heart.
Lent does not pretend that suffering does not exist. It leads us directly to the Cross. It reminds us of sin, of sacrifice, of the seriousness of the spiritual battle. But Lent is not the end of the story. Lent leads to Easter. The Cross leads to the Resurrection. The tomb is not the final word. Christ rose. And because Christ rose, the storms of history never have the last word.
So when the world grows dark … when the waves rise … when the temptation to despair whispers in our hearts … we return again to the words of St. Paul: “I know whom I have believed.”
The little bird of hope continues to sing even in the storm.
And perhaps that is why hope is so important in times like ours. Because despair is one of the most dangerous temptations the human soul can face.
When people begin to despair, they stop believing that goodness can prevail. They stop believing that truth matters. They stop believing that their faithfulness can make any difference. And when that happens, the darkness spreads even faster. Because the enemy of our souls understands this very well.
If he cannot destroy faith completely, he will try to weaken it through discouragement. He whispers to the human heart that the storm is too strong, that the corruption is too deep, that the confusion is too great. But that is not the voice of God. God never calls His people to despair.
Again and again throughout Sacred Scripture, when God’s people found themselves surrounded by danger or overwhelmed by circumstances, the Lord called them back to trust.
Think of the disciples in the boat on the Sea of Galilee. The storm was raging. The waves were crashing into the boat. The disciples were certain they were about to perish. And yet Christ was there with them.
Sacred Scripture tells us: “And behold a great tempest arose in the sea, so that the boat was covered with waves, but he was asleep” (Matthew 8:24).
The disciples woke Him and cried out in fear.
And what did Our Lord say to them?
“Why are you fearful, O ye of little faith?” (Matthew 8:26).
Then He stood and commanded the winds and the sea. And the storm became calm.
The storm was real. The waves were real. The fear of the disciples was real. But Christ was greater than the storm. And that is something Catholics must remember today.
The storms of our time are real. The corruption we see in the world is real. The confusion we sometimes see within the Church is real. But Christ is still greater than the storm.
This is why the saints never surrendered to despair. They lived through terrible times – times of persecution, corruption, and suffering – but they held firmly to Christ.
The saints did not change the world through despair. They changed the world through holiness. And holiness begins with faithfulness. Faithfulness in prayer. Faithfulness in the sacraments. Faithfulness in truth. Faithfulness even when the world mocks or misunderstands.
St. Paul understood this. His life was not easy after his conversion. In many ways it became more difficult. But through every hardship he remained anchored in Christ.
That is why his words still echo through the centuries:
“For which cause I also suffer these things: but I am not ashamed. For I know whom I have believed, and I am certain that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him, against that day” (2 Timothy 1:12).
Those words are not the words of a man who has escaped suffering. They are the words of a man who has passed through suffering and discovered that Christ is faithful even there. And perhaps that brings us back once again to that image from the poem.
“Hope is the thing with feathers.”
It does not shout above the storm. It simply keeps singing. Even when the winds rise. Even when the sky grows dark. Even when the waves crash against the boat.
Hope continues to sing.
And the reason it continues to sing is because hope is not based on the circumstances of the moment. Hope is based on Christ. And Christ has already conquered sin and death. That is the message of Easter.
The Cross stands at the center of our faith, but the Cross is not the end of the story.
Therefore, let us say with St. Paul: “I know whom I have believed.”
And that certainty allows us to keep walking forward with courage, with faith, and with hope. Even in the storm.
And perhaps this is exactly why the Church gives us the season of Lent.
Lent is not meant to hide the reality of suffering. Lent asks us to face it. The Church calls us to prayer, to fasting, to penance. She reminds us of the seriousness of sin, of the reality of the Cross, and of our need for conversion.
Lent is a season that strips away illusions. It reminds us that the world is wounded and that every human heart needs the mercy of God. But Lent is never meant to lead us into despair.
Lent leads us to hope. Because Lent leads us to Easter.
The Church walks with Christ through the desert. She walks with Him through betrayal, through suffering, through the agony of the Cross. On Good Friday the darkness seems overwhelming. The Son of God hangs upon the Cross. The earth trembles. The sky grows dark. And at the end of that terrible day, His body is laid in the tomb.
If the story ended there, despair would make sense. But the story does not end there. The stone is rolled away. The tomb is empty. Christ is risen.
This is why Catholics can endure the storms of history without surrendering to despair. We see the suffering. We see the confusion. We see the darkness that sometimes spreads through the world and even wounds the Church.
But we also know what comes after the Cross. The Resurrection.
St. Paul knew this truth deeply. That is why, even after all the suffering he endured, he could still say:
“For which cause I also suffer these things: but I am not ashamed. For I know whom I have believed, and I am certain that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him, against that day” (2 Timothy 1:12).
And we sing those words:
“But I know whom I have believed,
And am persuaded that He is able
To keep that which I’ve committed
Unto Him against that day.”
And so, as we continue our journey through Lent, let us return once more to that simple image from the poem with which we began.
“Hope is the thing with feathers.”
Even when the wind rises. Even when the storm grows strong. Even when the night seems long. The quiet song of hope continues. Because our hope is not placed in the shifting things of this world.
Our hope is placed in Jesus Christ. And the Cross is never the end of the story. Easter is coming.
And until that day, we keep walking forward – And we say with St. Paul – “I know whom I have believed.”
May Almighty God bless you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
Bishop Joseph E. Strickland
Bishop Emeritus
