“Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you." - Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg

On September 18th, 2020, we lost one of the fiercest advocates for gender equity and civil rights our country has ever known. 

For many women, especially female lawyers, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s staunch advocacy for women’s equality and civil rights was a deep, grounding, inspiring, and powerful force. It is what granted her the nickname among her admirers as the “Notorious RBG," a moniker that Justice Ginsburg loved.

Her passing came just 45 days before the most consequential election in our country’s history, and the press jumped over the loss of this beautiful human being and launched straight into the consequences of what this will mean for the Supreme Court and how it will influence the presidential election. 

I am guilty of doing the same, but I know that this reaction was purely one of fear. I texted my law school friend that I was angry at her for not stepping down sooner, to which she replied, “She thought Hillary was going to win. Just like a lot of other people.” 

She wanted to retire under the nation’s first female president. What a joy that would have been for all of us - especially Justice Ginsburg.

As Rebecca Traister wrote in her article, “It Shouldn’t Have Come Down to Her,” the fate of our nation’s civil liberties should never have been the responsibility of Justice Ginsburg alone. 

“[I]n the absence of structural security it is far easier to home in on individuals — as both our heroes and our villains — than it is to reckon with the enormity of what’s wrong and what needs to be righted.”

Indeed, that is why we are out here fighting together.

To say that 2020 has been challenging would be a massive understatement. The loss of Justice Ginsburg is, for many, a gut punch that has left us feeling even more breathless and desperate. 

But instead of stewing in anger, fear, and grief, it is absolutely vital that we hold onto hope with every ounce of strength we have left. 

While we don’t know yet whether the Trump Administration will be successful in nominating and confirming a new justice before the election, we do know that the fight over this potential nominee is going to be brutal and ugly. Many of us still cannot think about the nomination process without remembering the traumatizing confirmation of Justice Kavanaugh. 

One of the things that has kept me grounded over the last six months is the uncomfortable truth that human beings are always living with uncertainty, whether we acknowledge it or not. True, with COVID19, the economic collapse, and the Trump Administration’s reign, there is more uncertainty than most of us have experienced in our lifetimes. Even my 87-year-old grandmother admitted to me in whispers that she “has never seen anything like this” and that “things were simpler when I was a girl.” 

But the truth is that everyday, every hour, every minute, are uncertain. Pema Chodron in her book, Living Beautifully with Uncertainty and Change, said, “Looking deeper, we could say that the real cause of suffering is not being able to tolerate uncertainty - and thinking that it’s perfectly sane, perfectly normal, to deny the fundamental groundlessness of being human.”

With so much on the line, it is hard not to feel afraid, angry, and despaired. But as people of faith, we must look to our sacred texts to remind ourselves that hope is always alive around us. It is visible in the universe’s small gifts, like the birds singing outside your window. And it is visible in inspiring, vital ways, like the more than $90 million that were funneled to democratic candidates and progressive groups in the 28 hours after Justice Ginsburg’s death. 

I want to leave you with a quote from one of my favorite journalists, Rebecca Solnit, who wrote a piece for the Guardian at the beginning of the pandemic, but it resonates today just the same. 

“Hope offers us clarity that, amid the uncertainty ahead, there will be conflicts worth joining and the possibility of winning some of them … It is too soon to know what will emerge from this emergency, but not too soon to start looking for chances to help decide it. It is, I believe, what many of us are preparing to do.”

In faith and solidarity,