Republished with permission from John Pavlovitz
Rallies are powerful things.
They are a necessary visual reminder that we’re not alone.
They help provide a sense of agency in dark days, to help our minds right-size the threats that seem so towering and beyond our reach.
They give us a chance to stand with a tribe of affinity and to be a tangible response to the things that burden us.
Rallies are awe-inspiring, goosebump-inducing, breathtakingly cathartic moments.
But rallies don’t vote.
They can’t craft legislation and they won’t protect people in danger.
Rallies won’t jettison corrupt leaders from their well-fortified perches of power.
They can’t reach into the labyrinthine hallways and cloistered rooms where those charged with protecting us, decide our fates.
Rallies can’t tip the scales of our political process back toward balance.
They will not reject would-be dictators.
Since the launch of their campaign a few weeks ago, tens of thousands of Americans have been streaming into arenas and onto airstrips to see Vice President Kamala Harris and Minnesota Governor Tim Walz lay out their plans for America.
The size and exuberance of the crowds has been energizing to Blue voters, who until a month ago felt a rising sense of dread about the coming election and were finding hope nearly impossible to come by.
And suddenly, there it was.
And the along with the rallies, the polls have reflected this seismic shift in the political landscape, with indicators across all demographics and in nearly every geographic location offering moderates and progressives reason to be encouraged.
The rallies have been massive, the polls swinging forcefully in our direction, the vibes have been beautiful.
It all feels like the plot has suddenly twisted.
Donald Trump and his listless movement are clearly sensing this momentum swing as well, as their desperate and panicked efforts to minimize or explain away what we’re all seeing, shows they too are in a sate of shock—albeit a far less desirable one.
Millions of Americans are loudly declaring the America they desire and the America they will not abide.
They are speaking out against senseless violence and predatory politicians and toxic systems.
They are welcoming a youthful, positive, substantive ticket and hoping together and feeling they are part of something bigger.
It’s all been very good for the weary soul starved for optimism.
But even as we bask in the radiant glow of disparate people assembling to celebrate humanity and demand its defense; even as we joyfully gorge on the social media posts and photos streaming in from gatherings through the country; even as our eyes widen at the scale of the outpouring—we need to realize that it could easily all be for not.
Just over a week before the 2016 election, Hillary Clinton led national polls by double digits, with one of the major election predictors giving her a 93 percent chance of winning. (And well, we know how that turned out.)
This is where we need to remind ourselves that a little bit of hope can sustain and propel us into action, but that same hope can just as easily lull us into dangerous complacency.
We need to remember the single greatest rally and the only truly consequential poll is waiting on the first Tuesday in November.
No other moment trumps that one.
Rallies and polls are indeed powerful things but they can’t hold a candle to votes.
Rallies and polls can encourage imperiled people for a day. Votes can save them for a lifetime.
The past few weeks can’t be a landing pad, it has to be a launching pad.
As beautiful as the past month has been, if it doesn’t catalyze us into participating in and changing the political landscape, it will have been an exercise in self-medication; a temporary high that for a moment allowed us to escape but did nothing to alter the terrifying reality we find ourselves in.
So here in the afterglow of the initial hopeful explosion, the real work begins.
We need to register to vote.
We need to register others to vote.
We need to canvas neighborhoods.
We need to financially support political candidates committed to equality, diversity, and justice; to build social media groups and community organizations and interfaith partnerships; to be as focused over many months as we have been the last few weeks.
- This is how we protect our children.
- This is how we eject predatory politicians.This is how we collapse the gun lobby.
- This is how we dismantle the fake news of FoxNews.
- This is how we eradicate white supremacy in Government.
- This is how we protect Muslims and refugees and immigrants.
- This is how we protect students and teachers from terror.
- This is how we stand with bullied gay teenagers.
- This is how we care for poor families and sick children and elderly couples.
- This is how we help America be its best self, by collectively speaking.
Older people can’t rely on Gen Z to save them from their past missteps.
White Christians can’t expect the Black community to singlehandedly destroy systemic racism.
Men can’t ask women to reject legislated misogyny alone.
Moderate and progressive Christians can’t wait for humanists and atheists to push back Conservative Evangelical theocracy.
November 5th is the only poll that matters, and rallying every decent human being there is the single measurement of whether we truly want a more loving nation or not. We will wake up on that Wednesday and find out if these moments were the arc of the moral universe bending toward justice or just the fool’s gold of our social media feeds.
We the People of every color and religious tradition, every political affiliation and gender identity, every nation of origin and sexual orientation need to enter into the fray now and we must not stop.
We need to rally every Democracy-loving, humanity-defending American all the way to the polls.
Then, we’ll look back on these days not as isolated events that temporarily lifted but ultimately anesthetized us into inaction—but as the beginning of a new revolution that we set into motion.
We are behind until we win, good people.
Press on.
John Pavlovitz
John Pavlovitz is a writer, pastor, and activist from Wake Forest, North Carolina. A 25-year veteran in the trenches of local church ministry, John is committed to equality, diversity, and justice—both inside and outside faith communities. When not actively working for a more compassionate planet, John enjoys spending time with his family, exercising, cooking, and having time in nature. He is the author of A Bigger Table, Hope and Other Superpowers, Low, and Stuff That Needs to Be Said.