A Crisis of Hope

It was the most striking, and most sobering, part of our visits with partners in Palestine last month. The undeniable decay of hope. The honest telling of the despair that was slowly taking hold.

“I am 67 years old.  I used to have hope.  Now I have lost hope.”

“Sometimes we abuse the word ‘hope’. Naïve hope  –just saying ‘hope’ without giving people the tools [to live]– actually does harm.”

“I have hope. With difficulty.”

These were the thoughts shared among friends as we discussed the worsening situation of Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza. They talked of an increasingly uncertain future, the existential threat to Palestinian Christians, growing settler violence, and a crumbling economy. Though sparks of defiant resistance remained, their faith still evident in their persevering work, there was an unmistakable weariness to them that I hadn’t witnessed in prior visits.

It left me reflecting: what is the substance of hope when everything around us seems  hell-bent on extinguishing it?

What is hope to the people of Ukraine and Russia, who will this week mark 4 years of relentless war? Six million Ukrainians have been displaced internally and another four million (mostly women and children) have left Ukraine. Some estimates suggest that total casualties of Russians and Ukrainians may reach as high as 2 million by spring 2026. Yet the war grinds on.

What is hope to immigrants and refugees in this country in these unsettling days, the ones who are afraid to leave their homes, whose children cannot safely go to school, who came here seeking opportunity and refuge from harm and instead are threatened at every turn? According to the American Immigration Council, the number of people held in detention centers on any given day in this country has increased by over 75% in the last year alone, with a record 73,000 people being detained as of last month. The Council also reports a staggering 2,450% (yes, you read that right) increase in the number of people detained who have no criminal record.

What is hope to those who resist this injustice, in Minneapolis and in other urban and rural communities across the country, who keep bravely showing up and speaking up for what’s right but see only the tiniest progress toward justice?

What is hope to members of the LGBTQIA+ community who are watching their hard-won rights be ripped away again? What is hope to those across this country and world who are struggling just to pay their bills? What is hope to the one who faces a frightening health diagnosis? What is hope to the congregations whose survival is in question?

Our friends in Palestine last month reminded me that hope is not something we can discuss without also naming the harsh truths of our everyday existence. The daunting struggle required to hold on to hope shouldn’t be minimized. The promise of hope shouldn’t be reduced to a cliché, but must be enfleshed daily and practiced with grueling persistence. Let’s be clear: hope is hard.

The prophet Jeremiah experienced one of the harshest periods in Hebrew history, the decades preceding the fall of Jerusalem in 587 B.C. followed by the long years of Babylonian exile. He witnessed to a world and to a people that knew little comfort. And yet, while still trapped in the sufferings of exile, Jeremiah imparted these words:

“For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

It couldn’t have been easy to hear those words then, much less to believe them, and it’s no easier today. But still there it is. Hope in spite of everything. Hope that moves us through one more painful day. A hope that we practice with every weary step. A hope that dims and some days nearly dies but then emerges again.

Hope. With difficulty.

The Reverend Shari Prestemon began her service with the national ministries of the United Church of Christ in January 2024. As the Associate General Minister & Co-Executive for Global Ministries she has the privilege of overseeing several teams: Global Ministries, Global H.O.P.E., Public Policy & Advocacy Team (Washington, D.C.), and our staff representative to the United Nations. She previously served as pastor to local UCC congregations in Illinois and Wisconsin; the Executive Director at the UCC’s Back Bay Mission in Biloxi, Mississippi; and as Conference Minister in Minnesota.