In this Jubilee Year, perhaps we can be the answer someone has longed for but given up on
By George Valadie
A belated welcome to 2025! And welcome to this year of Jubilee; this year of hope and the grace that comes from spreading it!
I know we’re just a few weeks in, but how’s it going thus far? Have we been feeling Jubilee-ish? More importantly, have we been acting that way?
Now that we’re back to work and back to the grind. Back to making and selling stuff, counting what we have and realizing what we don’t. Back to paying bills and running errands, worrying about the kids and the laundry and the dog. And trying to finagle the math in hopes we might find a way to get a little bit further ahead than we were last year.
Back to all that. Hard to feel that Jubilee feeling all the time, isn’t it?
Unless we remember what the source of all hope promises.
The Church’s Jubilee celebration officially began on Christmas Eve when the Holy Father symbolically and literally opened the Holy Door of St. Peter’s Basilica.
The ceremony wasn’t at all unexpected. In fact, we had a pretty good while to get ready.
It was early last May actually, on the solemnity of the Ascension, when Pope Francis issued the official declaration that such would be the case and this would be the year. A special year. A year of Jubilee. A year focused on hope.
It’s like he knew what we would need.
It’s to be a yearlong anniversary of sorts marking the 2,025 years that have passed since the incarnation of our Lord.
First written by Paul to the community in Rome, “Hope does not disappoint” is the title and the first words of his papal proclamation.
Hope does not disappoint.
Though I won’t lie, I haven’t always felt that way. Have you?
Not in my day-to-day life anyway. Certainly not every day.
But I’m guessing Pope Francis wasn’t talking about me “hoping” to hit the lottery, or “hoping” the grandkids find lots of nice friends, or “hoping” to live long enough to see them marry the loves of their lives.
So, yeah, it does feel like hope disappoints a little bit every now and again.
There are so many worse problems, too, which is why, I suppose, he thinks we need such a reminder and such a year as this.
According to the Vatican, “the origin of the Christian Jubilee goes back to … the Law of Moses (that) prescribed a special year for the Jewish people: ‘You shall hallow the 50th year and proclaim liberty throughout the land, to all its inhabitants; it shall be a jubilee for you when each of you shall return to his property, and each of you shall return to his family. This 50th year is to be a jubilee year for you: you will not sow, you will not harvest the ungathered corn, you will not gather the untrimmed vine. The jubilee is to be a holy thing to you, you will eat what comes from the fields.’
“The trumpet with which this particular year was announced was a goat’s horn called yobel in Hebrew and the origin of the word jubilee. The celebration of this year also included the restitution of land to the original owners, the remission of debts, the liberation of slaves, and the land was left fallow.”
In other words, Moses needed his people to focus. Stop doing what you’re doing. Proclaim liberty throughout the land. Return to your family. Leave your crops alone. Leave the land alone. Eat what shows up. Forgive debts. Liberate slaves. This is to be a jubilee year. We owe Him.
I suppose all that could work in the day of Moses. But let’s be honest—not so much today. We can’t sit at home with family. We can’t leave the work untended. We can’t just eat what shows up because nothing will. Jubilee or not.
So, while we celebrate, we also dig in. And we hope. It is the human condition.
And then God steps in.
A young student dreams of, works toward, and ultimately hopes he or she will be accepted into med school. Maybe for the money, maybe for the status, maybe for the good they can do. While unsuspecting others have no idea their bodies will one day be wracked with disease.
And the Father sends the one to answer the hope of the other.
A newly graduated teacher hopes for the opportunity to work with children. While lonely teenagers hope that someone—anyone—will understand what they’re going through.
And the Father sends the one to answer the hope of the other.
A trucker weathers the weather while hoping instead for open highways, easier passage, and a quicker return home. While a young mom hopes the only gift she can afford for her child will get delivered in time.
And the Father sends the one to answer the hope of the other.
It happens again and again and again. Doesn’t it? One human being is the answered prayer of another. But we never know who or when or how God does that.
But He does.
Perhaps that’s what this Jubilee Year can be about. Being on the lookout—or perhaps actively searching—for those moments when some kindness, generosity, or simple thoughtfulness can be the answer to what another has hoped for, longed for, dreamed of, and too often given up on.
We can be their Jubilee. Even when we don’t know it.
And most importantly, when all of us exit this earthly life, we hope for a forever with the Father. Let us not forget it was a young Jewish man who was willing to die so we might have that hope.
And the Father sent the One to answer the hope of the other. All the others.
Paul was right: “Hope does not disappoint.”
Dear God—We hope a lot. Teach us how to give it. Amen.
George Valadie is a parishioner at St. Stephen Church in Chattanooga and author of the newly released book “We Lost Our Fifth Fork … and other moments when we need some perspective.”