The election in America, it seems, has been decided.

Although counting continues…

and lawsuits have been threatened…

it looks like Trump has lost.

But, the worrying thing for many––

both those living in America, and those watching from afar—

is that millions have loyally voted for Trump…

turning out in record numbers.

That’s despite his appalling handling of the pandemic response.

Despite everything, in fact!

Some, in the liberal media, have shrilled that the Democrats should have won in a landslide;

and it’s because Biden was too centrist.

But that’s a load of bull.

Katharine Murphy–– 

the veteran Australian political journalist––

suggested that it was because millions of Americans “feel alienated from the institutions Trump constantly attacks”.

Others have argued that it’s because… 

at the core of white American society… 

there beats a heart that is racist, xenophobic, and misogynist…

and, because of that, is scared.

Indeed, the sociologist… 

Warren Blumenfeld… 

argues, “Trump raised white grievance to a high level of political philosophy”.

He continually stoked fear, hatred, and division;

and he encouraged those who yearn for an imagined past…

one that was white, middle-class, and ‘wholesome’…

and where everyone knew and accepted “their assigned raced and gendered scripts”.

It’s something, Blumenfeld says, that we have seen before.

It’s a pattern that sociologists described back in the late nineteen-forties…

about how people came to support the growth of fascism:

“they pledged obedience and allegiance to a powerful leader…for the promise of social and personal security”…

at the cost of “the suppression of those outside the circle, the ‘others’”.

Sadly, that does seem to describe what’s happening in America quite aptly.

And it’s worrying.

It’s worrying, in terms of what Trump, and his followers, will do…

even yet.

It’s worrying, in terms of what will happen in the future.

And, while history tells us, that tyrants and despots… 

and wannabes…

eventually fall…

it’s hard to cling to that hope when you’re living through it.

 

Hope can be a fragile thing.

 

So often the things that we hope for don’t come to fruition;

while things that we don’t expect, so often do.

We all know those feelings of frustration and futility…

of despondency and disillusionment…

that go along with unanswered hopes and shattered dreams.

And we all know, too, how easy it is to give up hope…

how easy it is to lose faith…

how easy it is to doubt ourselves and our beliefs…

when the things that we hope for…

when the things that we believe in…

lie in tatters around our feet.

And the more specific that our hopes and dreams are––

and the more that we long for something––

the more likely it is that we will be disappointed…

and the more likely that we are to lose hope.

But hoping for something… 

and hoping in something… 

are two very different things.

 

And we see that tension––

that distinction––

in this morning’s reading from Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians.

Here–– 

in the very earliest letter that he wrote––

Paul is addressing a crisis of faith.

Some members of the Thessalonian congregation have died…

which called into question one of their most fundamental beliefs…

namely, that Jesus was returning soon––

very soon––

and that they would all be alive to see it.

It was a belief that had enabled them to endure all sorts of suffering and abuse––

which they had experienced because they had chosen to follow Christ…

and turned their backs on the gods of their city and nation.

In the midst of their suffering and oppression…

they had taken comfort in the knowledge that they wouldn’t have to endure it for long…

because Christ was returning soon.

But, when some of their number died… 

it had called all of that into question.

The thing for which they had hoped…

the belief that had been sustaining them…

lay in tatters at their feet.

And, in many ways, Paul is also struggling with that.

Because it’s clear that he, too, fundamentally shared that belief.

Paul also expected Christ to return soon…

and he expected to be alive when it happened.

It was something for which he was hoping as well.

And here…

in our reading this morning… 

it seems that he’s still stuck there.

He’s still trying to buttress that belief.

He’s still trying to encourage them to hold fast…

not to give up hope…

not to become despondent and disillusioned.

 

But, of course, Paul was wrong.

 

In hindsight, we might say that this belief was grounded in his cultural expectations…

fed by traditional imagery…

and wrapped in misguided longings.

And yet, almost buried away in all of that stuff about

angels, and trumpets, and clouds…

about people descending and ascending––

buried away in all of that hopelessly enculturated imagery… 

and pre-scientific world-view––

there’s the kernel of something else:

“through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died”.

Perhaps, almost unwittingly, Paul offers us something to hope in…

rather than simply something to hope for.

In the end… 

he doesn’t offer us any insights about what happens to us when we die.

After all, he clearly didn’t know––

any more than we do, with all of our scientific knowledge and medical insight––

and we can’t take what he says here literally.

Nor does Paul offer us any insights about what’s going to happen in our world.

He doesn’t hold out some utopian vision…

some proverbial expectation of a land flowing with milk and honey––

no dreams of racial equality and religious harmony…

let alone promises of health and prosperity and wholeness. 

Paul actually doesn’t offer us any of the things that so many preachers…

and theologians…

and crackpots…

have confidently predicted down the centuries.

In the end, what Paul does do…

is point us toward God––

the God who raised Jesus from the dead.

Regardless of whether we take such a belief literally or metaphorically…

the basis for our faith––

the basis for our hope––

is the God for whom death is not the end…

and for whom death does not have the last word.

Our hope lies in the God… 

for whom the great certainties in life are not necessarily certain.

Our hope lies in the God… 

for whom the things that we take for granted are never a given. 

Our hope lies in the God… 

who is not constrained by the things that we consider possible.

Our hope lies in the God… 

who imagines a future–– 

and a transformed world––

of which we can scarcely dream.

 

And, in this modern world in which we live… 

where, at any time…

any one of our most cherished beliefs might be disproved or discredited––

even, perhaps, belief in the resurrection––

where any one of the things for which we hope might be dashed… 

where anyone of the rights or privileges that we enjoy might be lost…

where any of the dreams that we dream might be shattered…

Paul reminds us… 

that our hope lies in the God who is able to do more than we can imagine;

the God who holds open possibilities of which we can scarcely conceive.

And if we put our hope in this God––

rather than the fleeting things for which we so often hope––

then…

who knows what might happen­­!