We woke up this morning in a time when it is easy to lose hope—or even to feel that there is no hope at all. Wars are raging without end. We woke up in a world where fascism is rising, where political and economic troubles press on us every day. We woke up in a world groaning under ecological collapse, torn apart by division, and weighed down by personal struggles of despair.
On this Remembrance Day, we gather to remember those who gave their lives in the hope that war would end, that peace would prevail, that future generations would know freedom and justice. Yet here we stand, generations later, and the wars continue.
The war in Ukraine is now stretching into its fourth year. The war in Gaza adds daily to unbearable civilian suffering and famine. The conflicts in Sudan, Yemen, and the Democratic Republic of Congo continue without relief. Around the world, leaders gain support by sowing fear and division, while political debate grows more toxic and polarized.
When we lay our wreaths and observe our minutes of silence, we might wonder: Did their sacrifice mean anything? Have we learned nothing from the wars they fought? The very question can deepen our despair.
Closer to home, families feel the heavy weight of economic uncertainty. The cost of housing, food, and basic necessities is beyond reach for many. Creation itself groans under record-breaking wildfires, violent storms, and floods. Ecological collapse is no longer a distant warning but a present reality. And then there are the fractures in our own society, and the very personal struggles of despair, anxiety, and exhaustion quietly carried by so many.
When all these forces combine, it is no wonder that hope feels fragile, if not impossible. The very air feels heavy with despair. And yet, in such a world, people still dare to ask: Is hope possible?
Some would say no. In a world like ours, hope is not possible. In fact, they would say it is hopeless to hope. Perhaps the clearest example of this view comes from Friedrich Nietzsche, the well-known 19th-century philosopher. As many of you know, Nietzsche once wrote: “Hope, in reality, is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man.” For Nietzsche, hope was a cruel trick. It kept people clinging to illusions instead of facing life as it really is. In his eyes, hope was not strength but weakness. It was a delusion, a distraction, a foolish dream. Hope, he argued, stops us from facing reality head-on and tempts us to postpone hard truths or live in denial.
But this is not the Christian vision of hope. Jürgen Moltmann, one of the most influential theologians of the last century, saw it very differently. In his groundbreaking book Theology of Hope, Moltmann wrote that true hope is not an illusion or a denial of reality. It is not a weakness, but a strength. It is not a delusion, but a revolution. Hope is not passive waiting. It is not wishful thinking. Hope is active. Hope means engaging with the realities and struggles of our world, building community, and standing with those who suffer. Hope means believing that God’s future is already shaping the present, breaking into the here and now through acts of justice, compassion, and love.
This is the kind of hope that sustained many who served in wartime—not a naïve optimism, but a determined commitment to stand against evil, to protect the vulnerable, and to build a better world even at great personal cost. On Remembrance Day, we honour not only their sacrifice but also the hope that motivated it: the belief that love is stronger than hate, that peace is worth fighting for, and that the future can be shaped by courage and compassion.
Why, we may ask, did Moltmann have this understanding of hope? If we asked him, he would have simply answered: “Because hope is rooted in the promises of God.”
Although I agree with Moltmann, I would like to take this a step further. Hope can be active. It can engage with the realities of the world in which we live. Hope, as revolution, can change the here and now through acts of justice, compassion, and love—not only because hope is rooted in God’s promises, but also, and especially, because hope is a gift from God, as Paul tells us.
Let us read Romans 15:13 again: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Notice that Paul does not speak of hope as a vague wish or empty optimism. Hope, Paul says, is a gift from God—a power that fills our hearts with joy and peace and enables us to live with courage in the present, even in the midst of despair.
A gift, however, that must be used in a very specific way. How? 1 Peter 3:15 gives us the answer: “Always be ready to give an account for the hope that is in you, yet do it with gentleness and respect.” Hope, as a gift from the God of hope, Peter argues, should not be private or hidden. It should be visible in how we live, in how we speak, and in how we treat others. True hope is embodied hope. It is hope that acts. Hope that loves. Hope that confronts injustice and stands with the oppressed.
This is how we truly honour those we remember today—not merely by looking back with gratitude, but by looking forward with determination. We honour their memory when we refuse to let despair win, when we choose reconciliation over retaliation, when we work for peace rather than resign ourselves to violence. We honour them when we embody the hope they carried into battle: the hope that a better world is possible.
This brings us to what I referred to in something I wrote for the Winter 2025 edition of Vocations as wise hope. Wise hope is not naïve. It does not pretend that the world is fine when it clearly is not. Wise hope is not passive. It does not wait for God to act without our participation. Instead, it is hope lived in action.
Wise hope is the hope that prays, “Thy kingdom come,” and then shows up in the world as an instrument of that kingdom. It is hope that responds to suffering with compassion. It is hope that seeks justice and tends to the vulnerable. It is hope that acts in small ways, through kindness, generosity, patience, and courage.
Hope is wise when it becomes visible, when it moves from heart to hand, from belief to action. Wise hope is not only felt; it is lived. It shows itself in small acts of kindness and courage. It is listening deeply to someone who is struggling, offering a word of encouragement, or taking time simply to be present with someone in need. It is helping a colleague with a difficult task, holding the door for a stranger, or sharing a simple smile. It is standing up for someone who is treated unfairly or showing patience in moments of frustration. It is being kind to others—always. It is showing compassion, practicing forgiveness and reconciliation, saying hello in the store, or showing empathy to a co-worker or neighbour who is overwhelmed.
Each of these acts may seem small, even ordinary, but they are seeds of God’s kingdom planted in the present. They are the embodiment of hope: hope that acts, hope that loves, hope that turns despair into action, fear into courage, and division into community. This is the hope Paul describes in Romans 15:13—the hope that fills our hearts with joy and peace by the power of the Holy Spirit. This is the hope 1 Peter 3:15 calls us to live out, a hope that is seen, spoken, and felt in the world around us.
On this Remembrance Day, let us remember not only those who fell, but also the hope they carried. Let us resolve to be bearers of that same hope in our own time. Let us make their sacrifice meaningful by refusing to accept war as inevitable, by working for peace in our communities, and by showing the world that God’s love is stronger than human violence.
I pray that we, as Knox College, will always embrace wise hope. Let us love others as God loves us. Let us carry hope in our hearts, and let it guide our hands, our words, and our lives. When we do this, we say to the world: “God’s future is greater than the world’s cruelty.” We say to those who have gone before us: “Your hope lives on in us.”
Charge and Benediction
Go in peace; be of good courage
hold fast to what is good,
render no one evil for evil;
strengthen the fainthearted,
support the weak,
help the afflicted,
honour all people,
love and serve God,
And may the Lord bless you and keep you;
may the Lord make God’s face to shine upon you,
and be gracious to you;
the Lord lift up God’s countenance upon you,
and give you peace. Amen