By Father Bryce Sibley/National Catholic Register
The Jubilee Year of Hope invites us to fix our eyes on Christ, the source of all hope, and to rediscover the ways this hope transforms lives. In a series of articles during this Jubilee Year, I plan to reflect on the priest as a man of hope, in particular highlighting how priestly fatherhood is a sign of hope in a world so often fraught with despair.
This priestly and paternal hope is perfectly expressed in the hopeful gaze of the father. In a world weighed down by discouragement, fear and isolation, the hopeful gaze of priests and fathers becomes a profound witness to God’s unconditional love.
This idea of the hopeful gaze of the Father is inspired by Father Jacques Philippe in his book, Priestly Fatherhood. A priest with the Community of the Beatitudes, he writes about the welcoming and patient love of the father for the smallest and weakest, describing a father as one with “a limitless patience, founded on hope. He believes the other, even when the other doesn’t believe him. I would dare to say… that a kind of ‘unconditional hope’ is one of the aspects of this unconditional love.”
The priest is the man who does not give up on others — no matter how bad it gets, no matter how much they struggle and fall, and no matter how long it takes to bring them to Christ. This is a special dimension of fatherhood in general and priestly fatherhood in particular.
Father Philippe describes how this hope is expressed through the father’s gaze.
“Keeping a hopeful watch on others obviously isn’t easy. But this hopeful gaze is a source of life,” he writes. “The father, through attitude, words, and the watch he has on those who belong to him, must not discourage but always be encouraging, helping them to believe in themselves and in their possibilities, in spite of their frailties or errors. He must never give them a negative view of themselves, but instead demonstrate trust in them.”
This gaze expresses an unwavering faith, hope and love for his child. The priests we need are those who believe in others even when they cannot believe in themselves. In doing so, they reflect the unconditional hope that the Heavenly Father has for each one of us.
The hopeful gaze of the priest is truly an expression of the merciful gaze of God the Father. Father Philippe again writes, “We urgently need the mediation of another’s eyes to love ourselves and accept ourselves. The eyes may be those of a parent, a friend, a spiritual director; but above all they are those of God our Father. The look in his eyes is the purest, truest, tenderest, most loving, and most hope-filled in the world.”
This gaze reflects the love of the Father of the Prodigal Son, who, while his child was far away, patiently surveyed the horizon for any sign of his return. Because the father watched with hope, he was ready to receive his son with joy, seeing through the filth and shame to his inherent dignity as his beloved child.
Jesus most perfectly mediates the hopeful gaze of the Heavenly Father. Jesus said, “He who has seen me has seen the Father.” He could just as easily have said, “He who has been seen by me has been seen by the Father.”
We could argue that what truly healed the blind Bartimaeus was not only Christ’s power but also the fact that he was seen by Christ. Similarly, it was Christ’s gaze that established the woman with the hemorrhage in her true identity as a beloved daughter, after she had done all she could to go unnoticed. And after Peter’s third denial, it was the merciful gaze of Christ that penetrated his heart.
Pope Francis reflects on this moment in his 2013 homily for Divine Mercy Sunday:
“When he hits bottom, he meets the gaze of Jesus who patiently, wordlessly, says to him: ‘Peter, don’t be afraid of your weakness, trust in me.’ Peter understands, he feels the loving gaze of Jesus, and he weeps.”
The hopeful gaze is that of the Shepherd, who vigilantly watches over his sheep. It is not the Eye of Sauron or the cold scrutiny of the prison guard, which scans for imperfections and breeds fear.
In a culture often filled with suspicion — where “to suspect” means to look up from below — the hopeful gaze of the father stands in stark contrast. It is a gaze that engenders respect, which, as its Latin root re-spectare implies, means “to look again, and again.” It is a gaze that penetrates to the heart, letting those under the father’s watch know they are seen, known, and safe. This watch is not idle or indifferent; it is vigilant, guarding against threats while steadfastly hoping for the good of the child.
In their pastoral ministry, priests most profoundly offer unconditional hope in the confessional. While allowing for the option for anonymity behind the screen, the face-to-face encounter offers a chance for the penitent to encounter the priest’s merciful and compassionate gaze. It is an invitation to repentance and renewal, a look that says, “Look up, child. I see you, I do not condemn you, and I believe in your goodness.”
The priest’s hopeful gaze in the confessional does not stop at the forgiveness of sin; it unlocks a deeper truth about the individual. To see someone as they are — beloved, created in the image of God — and as they can be renewed and redeemed — restores hope and purpose. This merciful gaze frees individuals from being prisoners of their past mistakes, encouraging them to move forward with courage. The confessional thus becomes not a place of shame or avoidance, but a refuge of encouragement and grace.
This hopeful gaze is beautifully illustrated in the 2002 film The Son (Le Fils). Olivier, a grieving father and carpenter, encounters Francis, the boy responsible for his son’s death. Olivier chooses to see Francis not as irredeemable but as a soul in need of hope and invites him into his workshop and his life. Overtime the hopeful gaze of this father enables the boy to receive forgiveness and accept himself.
Yet, for priests to be men of unconditional hope who never give up on others, they must first experience that same hope themselves. I am often asked by devout Catholics how they can support priestly vocations. Of course, they can pray for vocations and encourage young men to consider the priesthood. But I think it is equally important for them to show hope in their priests. This does not mean ignoring wrongdoing, but recognizing that priests are weak and fallen men striving for holiness. Priests need to experience the same hope and mercy we all long to receive.
The priest is called to be a living reflection of the Father’s unconditional love and merciful gaze. This hopeful gaze has the power to restore dignity and renew trust, In this Jubilee Year of Hope, please pray for priests and support them with the same hopeful gaze you desire to receive from them. In doing so, you can help them become faithful shepherds and spiritual fathers in a world longing for hope.
Father Bryce Sibley is a priest of the Diocese of Lafayette. In 2010 he was appointed as pastor and chaplain at Our Lady of Wisdom Church and Catholic Student Center on the campus of the University of Louisiana at Lafayette where he served for 11 years. He now serves as professor of moral theology and spiritual director at Notre Dame Seminary.
