A couple of years ago I was sitting on the outside with a bunch of noisy boys contemplating on what to do after the service while the priest rants on about heaven and hell.
Now I’m inside the Church torturing my boys to listen to a priest rant on about heaven and hell. I have to convince them that water will be turned into wine; that despite the betrayal and denial of his friends, the man they nailed on the cross was a good man, that it was really a story about a mob mentality gone mad, that the people didn’t know that He was well connected, that before you lynch somebody, be sure He isn’t the Son of God.
I have to convince these boys to believe that the imaginary real estate that no one has visited is real, that the invisible Creator whom no one has really seen is real, that the money we are giving to the Church that doesn’t pay taxes in any government in any part of earth is for the common good, proof of which is how they dictate government policies.
I have to do all that and make them Hope.
I just Hope that they won’t get to read what the Ancient Greeks have to say about Hope.