Hope and Optimism
One of my favorite experiences is to read something that I’ve never thought about before. This happened last week when I was reading an article by the Catholic activist Dorothy Day. There are few people who have lived a life of such strong convictions as Dorothy Day. Consequently, she has never failed to challenge my thinking.
What I ran across last week was her distinction between optimism and hope. When she commented that many people consider optimism and hope to be the same, I had to admit that I’ve often done so too. In reading further, I learned something that was more than a matter of terminology. What I learned changes the way I choose to live in these difficult days.
Dorothy Day describes optimism as the decision to keep a positive attitude no matter what is happening around us. Among friends who continue to support Trump, I often hear elements of optimism. I’d be rich if I had a dollar for every time a friend has said, “Oh, Trump just says those things. He doesn’t mean it.” Behind Trump’s on-again, off-again comments about taking over Greenland or Cuba, behind his floating the idea that he has the right to cancel mid-term elections, behind his insulting Biden and Obama over and over again, and behind his impulsive acts of war without considering what such attacks might lead to, my friends on the right believe Trump has both solid and worthy goals in mind.
That is an optimistic stance that fewer and fewer Americans, even Republicans, are buying into right now. What Dorothy Day taught me was that this kind of optimism has nothing to do with hope. She wrote that hope is less an emotion and more an action taken to positively affect the future. Put another way, hope isn’t something we feel; hope is something we do.
A perfect example is Habitat for Humanity. In a value-centered college course that I taught for many years, my students and I participated in a Saturday workday with this organization in Louisville. We hammered studs, laid floors, cleared and raked sites, nailed shingles to roofs, and painted walls, all the time working alongside volunteer community members. If we’d asked, I don’t think any of those volunteers would have claimed to be optimistic. But they were clear examples to my students and me of what hope looks like.
After this current difficult period of American history is behind us, we will need to rebuild something else—the pillars of our democracy. But hope doesn’t have to wait until then. We can act now to oppose all efforts to put obstacles in the path of those who deserve to vote. How? The least we can do is to write our representatives, even representatives not in our district or state, who are fighting for voter rights and need to know their courageous stand is appreciated. As mid-term elections approach, we can reach out, encouraging people who might feel too intimidated to vote. We can knock on doors in our neighborhood and offer transportation to voting sites. We can put signs in our yard. In short, we can act.
We can also oppose ICE, which still hasn’t learned the lesson of Minneapolis and Portland, and by speaking and acting out against the steps Trump is taking to gut climate-control agencies and laws. The world’s climate isn’t on hold just because the issue is being deliberately undermined by the White House.
If you have read my column to this point, you have already acted. Maybe you disagree with what I’ve written; maybe you’re optimistic and see no need to act. But if you know that being optimistic is just wishful thinking, if you want to give hope to our children and grandchildren, take thirty minutes today and act!