Hope & Hearth | April 2025
"Because Hope survives best at the hearth," I said. "Guard it for me, and I won't be tempted to give up again."
Chances are, you’re feeling a little overwhelmed with the news. I know I am.
It's exhausting listening to the endlessly catastrophic terms each side describes the state of the country. And honestly, it doesn't really matter to me which flag you see when I say “country.” There’s a fair dose of turmoil everywhere.
So today, with the forsythia already blooming in Baltimore and the cherry blossoms about to make their appearance, I’d like to share one of the stories that I return to find comfort and hope. I feel a little sheepish admitting that it comes from the last book of Percy Jackson and the Olympians series.
For those of you who haven’t read Percy Jackson, here’s a brief synopsis:
The Greek gods are real.
Percy is a demigod.
The world is about to be destroyed.
Percy saves the day.
For any real fans, that summary might be a little too brief, so I apologize for any hard feelings.
As silly as it sounds, there is one scene in the final book, The Last Olympian, that expresses something beautiful, and true, even as this is a total work of fiction at every level. I’ll set the stage for you.
New York city is under attack from the titans, led by Kronos, and a slew of monsters. Percy and his friends have been fighting for days. Prometheus, the Titan who gave fire to humanity, visits Percy as an emissary from Kronos. He offers Percy a deal: surrender to Kronos and avoid the destruction of Olympus.
As a symbol of hope and choice, Prometheus gives Percy Pandora’s jar, telling him that as long as he holds onto hope, he can still surrender if he changes his mind. All Percy has to do is open the jar and let the spirit of hope out.
Of course, Percy doesn’t follow that path. On his way to the final battle on Olympus, conveniently located at the top of the Empire State building, of course, Percy meets Hestia, goddess of hearth and home.
He’s still carrying Pandora’s jar, and at that moment, feeling that everything is pretty hopeless. Here’s the scene, lighly edited.
I looked at Pandora's jar, and for the first time I had an urge to open it. Hope seemed pretty useless to me right now…. My parents were asleep down in the streets somewhere while a monster army surrounded the building. Olympus was on the verge of failing, and I'd seen so many cruel things the gods had done…. Surrender, Prometheus's voice whispered in my ear. Otherwise your home will be destroyed.
Then I looked at Hestia. Her red eyes glowed warmly. I remembered the images I'd seen in her hearth — friends and family, everyone I cared about…
I picked up Pandora's jar…
"Hestia," I said, "I give this to you as an offering."
The goddess tilted her head. "I am the least of the gods. Why would you trust me with this?"
"Because Hope survives best at the hearth," I said. "Guard it for me, and I won't be tempted to give up again.
I know I have a tendency to calibrate my emotional reality based on what I hear on the news. When I do that, my emotional state is usually pretty trashy.
But when I’m able to focus on the present, my friends and family, my life that exists around our table, that’s where I find hope and happiness, and the strength to keep going.
This year, Passover and Easter are in April. For many, these are great times to get together with those you love. Or perhaps you’ll take the opportunity to get outside and enjoy the spring.
However you celebrate, I hope you find hope around your hearth.