Making the decision to give yourself more fully to a vocation is always a little fraught. I’m not just talking about changing jobs, though that may be part of it. I mean that dedicating yourself to work that is deeply connected to your identity can come with a host of challenges. It may mean giving up a job that included the security of a pension and benefits, it likely means reduced income, and it can present new challenges for how to balance the pursuit of that vocation with the needs of home and family. And it’s not just about the paycheck or other practical concerns. When we feel something deeply as our vocation then our work is also attached to our identity. We don’t just risk our income, we risk ourselves.
We risk ourselves so that we might be a part of something meaningful, sharing some beauty, truth, and goodness with the world. But taking on a risk like this involves hope, and true hope is neither wishful thinking nor coldly calculated certainty. Hope is an act of faith in which we must reach out beyond ourselves and wait for someone to reach back.
When we choose the risk of hope we should probably be prepared for the inevitability of failure and disappointment. We audition but don’t get the gig, we produce a show but almost no one comes to it, we plan a national tour of our one-person show but we have to cancel it due to a global pandemic… hypothetically speaking.
These kinds of challenges – challenges that I think many of us have felt more acutely over the past few years – can be hope killers. Whether it’s hope for yourself or hope for the world.
How can a person be hopeful in their vocation when a virus still threatens to cancel every live performance they are a part of? Why be hopeful when climate change increasingly threatens our planet and we seem powerless to stop it? What is there to be hopeful about when our societies and cultures are increasingly polarized and fractured in deeply destructive ways? Just to name a few little things that can make us feel hopeless.
But hope, dumb hope, it’s still there pulling us forward in the face of these questions? That’s why we continue to pursue the vocations we care about. That’s why artists like me continue to write stories, sing songs, and share our art with the world – Hope. We continue to hope that a better future is still coming, and we believe, foolishly perhaps, that holding up hope – not easy hope, not naive hope, but fiercely humble hope – is the only way we might move toward that better future.
Back in 2016, my friend Dave released his first EP as a singer-songwriter, using his last name as a handle, Von Bieker. He took a risk in pursuit of a vocation that he has felt deep in his bones as long as I’ve known him (which is a long time). Seeing Dave take that risk is part of what encouraged me to continue stepping forward into my vocation as a theatre artist. It’s been beautiful to journey together with Dave as we continue to encourage one another in our work, even through the challenges of the pandemic.
Dave’s newest project is called “Dumb Hope”. He’s raising $10’000 to make an album that, in his words, “…taps into my deepest beliefs about the world… These songs deal with parenting, family breakdown, loss, death, abuse, cult control … and hope.”
I’ve had the joy of hosting a Von Bieker concert in my backyard twice, and I think it’s going to have to be an annual event now. I hope that I get to welcome my friend back next summer. I hope we get to celebrate the release of his new album. I hope you consider contributing some money to make that album happen which you can do right here - crowdfundr.com/dumb-hope…
I hope that you too, still find hope, dumb hope, to keep doing the work that points us toward a better future.
Von Bieker in the Bratton Backyard August 2021
Thanks to Jessica Isaak for the photo