Sermon: Action is The Best Antidote to Despair, By Rev. Meagan Henry

“Action is the best antidote to despair.” – Joan Baez

This quote from singer-songwriter and activist Joan Baez has been echoing in my mind lately as I’ve watched the news, scrolled through social media, and spoken with many of you about the state of our world. There’s a heaviness that accompanies our awareness these days— the knowledge that forces of division, authoritarianism, and injustice continue gaining ground in dangerous ways.

Many of us find ourselves asking: What difference can I possibly make? In the face of such daunting challenges, does what I do really matter?

Friends, I believe the answer is an unequivocal yes. Each of us matters, and what we do matters—especially in times that test our democratic values and our faith in humanity’s capacity for goodness.

And so, I implore you now more than ever, do not give in to despair.

Even though despair is seductive. It whispers in our ears that our efforts are futile, that the machinery of oppression is too powerful, that the arc of history might not bend toward justice after all. Despair tells us to retreat, to protect ourselves, to give up. It would be so easy…

But make no mistake—despair serves authoritarianism well. Systems of oppression thrive when we believe ourselves powerless. Tyrants and their sycophants count on our surrender. 

In his book, On Tyranny, Timothy Snyder proposes that Americans are no wiser than the Europeans who saw democracy yield to fascism. But, he says, our one advantage is that we might learn from their experience, and he offers lessons on fighting autocratic forces adapted to today’s circumstances. The first lesson is, “Do not obey in advance.” 

As Unitarian Universalists, we can and do – and must continue to – live this lesson, in how we doggedly affirm the inherent worth and dignity of every person through our communal spiritual practice. It’s in our refusal to self-censor or otherwise shrink. In how we speak up, over and over. This principle of ours reminds us that each human life—including our own—carries immeasurable value and potential. 

Our tradition also calls us to recognize not just our interconnectedness, but our individual agency in protecting and preserving that framework. 

And that’s where we need to anchor ourselves in another of Snyder’s lessons: “Be as courageous as you can.” Because although we may not think of ourselves as capable of changing systems of oppression, now is the time to believe in miracles – in the remarkable fact that small actions can and often do create profound ripples. 

History offers countless examples of how seemingly small actions created profound change.

Consider Bayard Rustin, whose courageous work as an openly gay Black man organizing the 1963 March on Washington created a blueprint for nonviolent resistance that continues to inspire movements today. Or Václav Havel, the Czech playwright whose words helped topple a totalitarian regime. Or those whose names we don’t know – like the first same-sex couple who applied for a marriage license in their town, not knowing they were helping to launch a transformation in how we understand love and commitment.

Just like in the story we heard from Rev Micah earlier, none of these individuals acted alone. Movements require many hands. But each one made a choice to act rather than surrender to despair.

In the Jewish tradition, there’s a beautiful concept called “Tikkun Olam”—the repair of the world. It teaches that we aren’t required to complete the work of healing our broken world, but neither are we free to abandon it. Each of us repairs one fragment, trusting that our efforts will combine with others.

Those still skeptical among us may wonder: Why does what we do matter in the fight against authoritarianism?

First, because authoritarianism requires compliance and silence to thrive. Every time we speak truth, question authority, or refuse to participate in dehumanizing systems, we create friction in the machinery of oppression.

Second, because our actions spread outward in ways we cannot fully measure. That letter you wrote to your representative, the conversation you had with your neighbor, the money you donated, the protest you attended—these actions touch others, inspire others, change others.

Third, because our actions transform us, too. When we move from passive worry to active engagement, we reclaim our power. We remember who we are. Joan Baez didn’t just describe action as a “response” to despair—she called it an “antidote,” a medicine that heals us as we work to heal our world.

We just sang together: “My heart is ready AND what am I going to do? My voice is ready AND what am I going to do? My feet are ready AND what am I going to do?”

Let’s think about that powerful “AND.” It acknowledges that readiness—feeling concern, having awareness—is just the beginning. The “AND” bridges our readiness to our responsibility. It asks us to move beyond feeling into doing.

The question isn’t whether your actions matter, but rather: what actions call to you? 

Some of us are called to direct political engagement—running for office, organizing voters, advocating for policy change.

Others are called to community-building — creating gathering spaces where human dignity is honored, constructing and maintaining systems of mutual aid – settings and structures where we practice the beloved community we wish to see in the larger world.

Still others are called to education—helping others understand systemic injustice, teaching history honestly, fostering critical thinking.

Some are called to art—using music, poetry, visual art to awaken empathy and imagination.

And some are called to care—tending to those harmed by oppressive systems, holding space for healing.

An action we are taking is to support the organization Undue Medical Debt. Between our share the plate and a grant from our Women’s Leadership Alliance, we gave $5,000 to Undue. That $5,000 purchased $500,000 of medical debt owed to hospitals by NYers. Because of this, some of our neighbors here in the city are now free from life crushing medical debt. Our own member, Paula Shirk, is leading the charge to spread the word about this project and she will be at a table in the undercroft during fellowship after the service. 

All of these actions matter. All contribute to the world we hope to build – the world we are building together.

Action is indeed the antidote to despair, but sustainable action requires connection. We need each other—for inspiration, for accountability, for comfort when the work becomes difficult.

This is why progressive religious community matters so deeply in times like these. Here, we remind each other of our shared values. Here, we celebrate small victories. Here, we rest and renew ourselves for the work ahead.

Friends, I won’t tell you that the challenges we face aren’t serious. Authoritarianism gains ground when we minimize its threat.

But I will tell you this: You matter. What you do matters. The light you carry—whether it shines as a candle or a bonfire—pushes back the darkness.

The song we just sang reminds us: Our hearts are ready AND what are we going to do? Our voices are ready AND what are we going to do? Our feet are ready AND what are we going to do? That “AND” is where hope lives—in the space between awareness and action.

When despair visits you—and it will visit all of us—remember Joan Baez’s wisdom. Take action, however small. Write one letter. Have one difficult conversation. Extend one hand of compassion. Join one effort for justice.

And remember that you don’t ever act alone. Across this community, this nation, this world, countless others are taking their own actions. Together, we create not just resistance to authoritarianism, but the alternative to it—a world of compassion, justice, and beloved community.

Sermon Prayer

Let us pray. Spirit of life and love, as we navigate this tumultuous and frightening time, may we be reminded that what we do matters, may we have the insight to discern where our action is most helpful, the strength to continue building a more just world, and the courage to take bold action when it is most needed.

May we be gentle with ourselves in moments of despair, and may we always find our way back to action, and back to each other. For in action, and in one another, we find not just purpose – but hope. Amen, and blessed be.