As you read the title for this article, you might be slightly confused as these two words seem very different in nature.  When we hear the word ‘judgment’ (particularly as it applies to the Last Judgment), we have a sense of uncertainty, even a bit of fear.  On the other hand, hope almost always stirs a feeling of delight and peace.

With this next paragraph in Spe salvi, Pope Benedict begins the final section of the document, looking at how judgment is a setting for learning and practicing hope.  It makes sense that he would save this for last, as judgment is indeed one of the Last Things.  Instead of treating judgment as something overwhelmingly negative, the pope invites the reader to see how our awareness of judgment is meant to influence how we live here and now, and that by living according to the Gospel, we can have great peace in believing that the promise of eternal rest, for which we hope, is something the Lord delights to give us after we complete our earthly pilgrimage.  On this point, the Holy Father writes:

From the earliest times, the prospect of the Judgement has influenced Christians in their daily living as a criterion by which to order their present life, as a summons to their conscience, and at the same time as hope in God’s justice. (SS, 41)

He then explains how these two topics – judgement and hope – were depicted in the artwork of Christian sacred buildings:

In the arrangement of Christian sacred buildings, which were intended to make visible the historic and cosmic breadth of faith in Christ, it became customary to depict the Lord returning as a king—the symbol of hope—at the east end; while the west wall normally portrayed the Last Judgement as a symbol of our responsibility for our lives—a scene which followed and accompanied the faithful as they went out to resume their daily routine. (ibid.)

This highlights an important awareness that we as Christians should always keep in mind, that there will come a time for all of us – at an “unknown day and unknown hour” (cf. Mt. 24:36) when the Lord will come to us and ask us for an account of our lives.  This judgment known as the Particular Judgment, is described in the Catechism of the Catholic Church in the following words:

Each man receives his eternal retribution in his immortal soul at the very moment of his death, in a particular judgment that refers his life to Christ: either entrance into the blessedness of heaven—through a purification or immediately,—or immediate and everlasting damnation. (CCC 1022)

Admittedly, this sounds a little bit dark, but it does not have to, especially when we live as intentionally as possible the commandments of love of God and love of neighbor.  This point is made in this paragraph of the Catechism, with a quote from St. John of the Cross:  “At the evening of life, we shall be judged on our love.” (St. John of the Cross, Dichos 64) We believe that God is love (1 Jn 4:16), and that He has poured this love into our hearts (Rom 5:5), and that by remaining in that love (Jn 15:9-10), our hope in His Promise is firm, for He delights to give us the Kingdom. ( Lk 12:32) Therefore, let us ask the Lord for the grace to persevere every day in that love of His, so that when we take our last breath, we will awaken to see Love Himself in the glory of Heaven.

After I was ordained a priest, I and a classmate took a camping trip out west to Glacier, Yellowstone, and the Grand Tetons National Parks. It was an amazing trip, and I loved looking at the mountains, a feature of the landscape we certainly don’t have around here. I had never been so close to mountains before, and some of the sights left me in a state of wonder. One of the more beautiful aspects of the stony faces of the mountains was the way they reflected the sunlight. At different times of day, they appeared to be different colors, much like the clouds here in the Midwest.

During Mass this weekend, you’ll hear from Psalm 121, which begins, “I lift up my eyes toward the mountains; whence shall help come to me? My help is from the LORD, who made heaven and earth.” The Psalmist is searching for help as he makes his way up to Jerusalem, a sort of allegory for making his way up to Heaven from the depths of this earthly life. He needs (and we need!) a lot of help along the way. So, where do we turn for that help? Should we turn to the seemingly impregnable mountains? What are these mountains? 

Saint Augustine can help us understand what is going on here in this Psalm by revealing a deeper spiritual meaning behind the words. He reads the mountains mentioned in this Psalm as the “great” figures of history, especially of salvation history – the patriarchs, prophets, saints, and holy ones of the scriptures. They can help us by giving us light, a light which comes from God alone.

We read,

“… the mountains do not give off light of their own. They transmit light from him of whom scripture says, He was the true light, which illumines every human person who comes into this world (Jn 1:9). We can take the mountains to be symbols of great and illustrious people. And is anything greater than John the Baptist? What a mountain he was! …You can certainly see in him a lofty mountain bathed in light; but listen to [John’s] confession: From his [God’s] fullness we have all received (Jn 1:16). Help comes to you not from the mountains themselves but from him whose plenitude endows the mountains. All the same, unless you lift your eyes to the mountains through the scriptures, you will not be brought near to be illuminated by him” (St. Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms, 120.4).

St. Augustine calls us to keep our eyes fixed on the “mountains” by looking to the examples and words of the holy people in the scriptures. At the same time, we have to recognize that our true help does not come from these people but from God alone. In God alone is the light that fills us with life. In God alone is sure salvation. We need the models of grace so that we can be built up in faith, but they don’t give us life.  As we continue through the Psalm, we hear that the Lord alone guards us without sleeping, and that he will never fail us. 

May we put our trust in the Lord always. He stands beside us to keep us safe from all evil. He gives us great models, mountains of holiness, to serve as beacons who reflect the saving light of God. Lord, help us keep our eyes fixed on these mountains and the many beautiful ways they reflect your light – the light that gives us life. Amen.

As he brings this section on learning hope through suffering, Pope Benedict offers a few words on the spiritual practice of “offering up” our minor daily hardships, a practice that “used to be a form of devotion—perhaps less practised today but quite widespread not long ago.” (SS, 40)

For those of you of a certain age reading this may recall your parents or religious sisters in school repeating that phrase over and over again, especially when they found you complaining about your problems.  “Offer it up.”  Sadly, that phrase was often not explained well, and it simply became synonymous for “get over it” or “quite whining.” Acknowledging that this practice has suffered in the past from misguided or exaggerated forms of expression, the Holy Father pauses to question where there actually may be some value in revisiting this devotion.  He offers the following reflection:

What does it mean to offer something up? Those who did so were convinced that they could insert these little annoyances into Christ’s great “com-passion” so that they somehow became part of the treasury of compassion so greatly needed by the human race. In this way, even the small inconveniences of daily life could acquire meaning and contribute to the economy of good and of human love. Maybe we should consider whether it might be judicious to revive this practice ourselves. (ibid.)

A few months ago, I came across a podcast episode in The Road to Emmaus podcast hosted by Dr. Scott Hahn in which he interviewed Megan Hjelmstad on this very topic, referring to the book that she recently wrote, titled Offer It Up: Discovering the Power and Purpose of Redemptive Suffering (published by Emmaus Road Publishing).  Dr. Hahn wrote of this book:

In Offer It Up, Megan Hjelmstad transforms a trite slogan into an invigorating battle cry. Those who are suffering in mind or body, as well as their caretakers, will find ample encouragement to embrace their cross and participate more intimately in our Lord’s saving mission. (https://stpaulcenter.com/store/offer-it-up-discovering-the-power-and-purpose-of-redemptive-suffering)

Though I have not read the book, I was inspired by the interview.  If you are reading this and are not too scarred from past admonitions to “offer it up”, perhaps this can be a good book for your spiritual reading.  And if you do not have the time right now to read the book, perhaps listening to the interview would be a blessing.  Here is the link:  https://youtu.be/i1Akj9DcLFw?si=iJJ-EHv6thJ4MgKg (or you could search for “The Guide Through Life’s Struggles with Megan Hjelmstad and Scott Hahn” in YouTube and it should show up).

The line that really caught my attention toward the end of the interview came from words that Jesus shared with St. Faustina, the Apostle of Divine Mercy: “You will save more souls through prayer and suffering than will a missionary through his teachings and sermons alone.” (Diary of St. Faustina, no. 1764) May we never underestimate the power of suffering to teach us many important lessons and so be a means for growing in hope and being instruments of hope to others.