Here we are again, at a fork in the road of this nation, indeed this world. Here we are again, hearts brimming with some mixture of determination and disbelief, cautious hope and anxiety. Here we are again, four – eight – years later, waiting for Election Day to come.
This is hardly the first time we’ve had to wait with hearts in our throats to learn who will lead this country. This is hardly the first time people have waited, filled with a mixture of hope and dread, wondering if things will turn out ok, whatever ok may be. This is hardly the first time a lot has ridden on the outcome of an election. But this time the stakes are very high, the rule of law far weaker than it’s ever been, and the norms that used to keep our democracy in check fractured.
Like many of you, I have been doing what I can to ensure candidates whose values align with my own are elected to office. Like many of you, I’ve been doing this work alongside a full-time job, advocacy work in the community, and parenting. I’m filled with a mixture of gratitude and admiration for all that each of you has done in the service of our values these last several months. From postcards to door knocking, so many people in this congregation have worked really hard for the sake of this democracy and the most vulnerable among us. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to feeling fear about what the next few weeks may bring.
This country has had contested elections before, and we’ve experienced voter intimidation and suppression before, too. But the last presidential election was the first time a candidate, and the incumbent at that, refused to agree to a peaceful transfer of power after he lost the election. Given the insurrection attempt on January 6th, 2021, it’s safe to say that no one really knows what to expect, how things will unfold, or what may be asked of us as citizens and residents of this democracy in the time to come.
This political storm has been long in the making, but that doesn’t make it any easier to try and live in the middle of it, or wonder how long it will last. The winds of racism, fascism, greed, and suppression are blowing one way, while we each lend what weight we can to the grounding rocks of justice and equity. We are not the first to face this kind of storm. And because we are not the first, we have the hard-won wisdom of those who have done this before to guide us.
As the late, great Congressman John Lewis taught in our Wisdom Story this morning, a true story from his own childhood, these storms come and they go. And it is the people clasping hands, holding firm to one another and to our values of freedom and justice, equity and compassion that keep the whole house from blowing down around us.
To paraphrase Congressman Lewis,
America feels as if it might burst at the seams—so much tension, so many storms. But the people of conscience can never leave the house. We cannot run away. We will stay, we will come together and do the best we can, clasping hands and moving toward the corner of the house that is the weakest. And eventually, inevitably, this storm will settle, and God-willing, the house will still stand.
But we know another storm will one day come, and we will have to do some version of this work again. And that is when our children and grandchildren will look to us, that is when they will read our words, study what for them will be the history of the days that lie now ahead of us, and they will gain strength and comfort from our commitment, from our fortitude, from our unwillingness to give up.
I am not here to make empty promises or give you false hope. I do not know how things are going to turn out. I can only share the faith and hope I have received, faith and hope in a power mightier than any army and more tender than a lover’s caress. I can only share the good news that the Spirit of Life, Love, and Freedom that is at heart of our free faith is the same Spirit of Justice that has thrown the mighty down from their thrones, exalted the lowly, and filled the hungry with good things from generation to generation. And I can share my hope, that come what may in these next few days and weeks, that same spirit of life and love, freedom and justice, will be at work in us and with us and through us no matter who is elected President this week.
The Unitarian Universalist minister, David O. Rankin, liked to share a story when Election Day would come around. In 1968, he preached a sermon just before the election, in which he was not thrilled between the choice of Richard Nixon or Hubert Humphrey. Instead of making the case, however subtly, for either candidate, he chose instead to recommend that everyone vote for the most “intelligent, experienced, and compassionate candidate.” After the service, in the receiving line, he was confronted by a man who shouted at him, “How dare you use the pulpit to support Hubert Humphrey!”
As your minister, I endorse no candidates today. It is not my place to tell you who to vote for. But I believe it is absolutely my place to encourage all who are eligible who haven’t voted already to vote this Tuesday for the candidates you feel are the most intelligent, compassionate, and committed to justice. And to encourage you to join me in loving the hells out of this community, this country, each in our own ways.
Because, come what may, no President is the Messiah, Because, come what may, we can’t heal a country we don’t also love. Because, come what may, we are bold and courageous and are charting a new future. Because, come what may, we have faith in a future that is not yet known. Because, come what may, we are the people we have been waiting for.
May it be so, and may we make it so.