A week ago Saturday, I attended the Augusta, Maine version of a Hands Off Rally. Everyone seemed so awed by the thousands of people who showed up on a overcast, chilly and raw day. In applying for a permit, the organizers had estimated six hundred attendees. The count was around 3,000, in little old Augusta in little and (literally) old Central Maine. People waved their clever signs, some elaborately done and others scrawled on an old piece of cardboard with a dying Sharpie in the parking lot just before the rally began. I can’t say mine was the most original, but I wasn’t the only one to assert that maybe Maine should become a part of Canada:

The rally featured a lot of cheering and chanting, with a general air of excitement and anticipation. After a long stretch of speakers, the crowd went on walkabout, around the block, along a couple of busy streets, early on a busy Saturday afternoon. Although there were a couple of cars (full of young men, I noticed) who made it clear that they were not in agreement with the ragtag crowd chanting things like, “This is what democracy looks like,” most of the occupants of vehicles seemed to be eager to show their support. They honked their horns and offered thumbs up, etc. It certainly felt good to be in the midst of such a swell of humanity staking a claim on what now seems in short supply— decency, dignity, respect, and love toward self, neighbor, community and world.

When my friend and I walked back to the car, she said something like, “So, now what?”

And, that’s when the little bubble of hopefulness that had been constructed in the midst of the rally burst. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, although, truth be told, most days just involve the hopeless and helpless part and none of the excitement of the Hands Off rally. It’s clear enough that there’s not much that can be done, not much at all. We can attend more rallies. We can wring our hands. We can speak up and out. We can call the offices of our elected officials. We can pray. We can wait for the midterm elections and get more involved.

Not much of it feels especially hopeful or helpful, in terms of making any kind of meaningful change to the strange, increasingly harsh and authoritarian universe we now appear to inhabit. The bits of news that I consume (from the New York Times, the Boston Globe, The New Yorker, and even The Economist, that I read mostly online, to the video pieces from the PBS NewsHour, CNN and even Fox, just to mix it up a bit) all signal to me that we now living not only in a new and difficult time, but a dangerous one.

I was especially alarmed by the spectacle from the White House, on Monday, of the President of El Salvador and President Trump, both of them practically giddy at the prospect of being able to wash their hands of the terrible miscarriage of justice when an administrative error led to the wrongful deportation of Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia to the infamously horrific prison CECOT in El Salvador, while Stephen Miller spewed lies and distortions. Miller was vociferous in maintaining that Mr. Abrego Garcia is a terrorist, even though there is no evidence to back up that claim. Then, there was the line-up of administration stooges all trying to one-up each other in backing up the lies, while also praising their glorious leader. Not one person expressed even a shred of remorse for the man’s plight, or for his family. Worse still, there was the suggestion, made by Trump himself, that El Salvador should build even more large prisons, so that the US can send “home-grown” bad guys, with sense that the assessment of “bad” belongs to the Administration. Having one’s day in court may be coming to an end for all of us.

I could begin a list here of all of the other things that I find unsettling, like the assault on the great state of Maine and Trump’s narcissistic need for constant praise and declaring his policies and actions as the best ever, “like nobody has ever seen” (good thing I didn’t start a drinking game related to this sentiment). To set out to build such a list would only make me even more hopeless and helpless, while also taking up a crazy amount of space.

That we are still in early days is close to overwhelming. And, it’s not just the shift in policies and practices, and the roller coaster ride regarding tariffs that hints at complete incompetence, but the profound shift in tone. It’s a small thing, to be sure, but I find it unconscionable that Trump and his minions are still beating up on Joe Biden. As if we need any other signs or signals, but this offers yet another clue to the fraying and fracturing of basic human decency. It’s also disturbing to witness the President’s need for every country on earth, except for maybe Russia, to bow down to the United States, in subservience and awe of the power and greatness of the US, asserting that to be in good relationship with the US essentially means that other countries must forfeit their dignity and their own sense of place on the global stage.

With Trump in office, there’s a lot of the Make America Great Again slogan, from the President himself as well as his enthusiasts. But, it’s hard to understand what’s so great about any of this. Is is great to lie and distort? Is it great to strip people of their dignity and due process? Is it great to parade power and to demand loyalty and subservience? Is it great to show not one iota of compassion regarding the mistreatment of other people by our own government? Is it great to treat those who disagree with utter contempt?

I’m not sure where all of this will go, but I feel especially mindful of the stark contrasts of story as we are now in the midst of Holy Week. For a President and an Administration of people who claim close ties to Christianity (although, I’ll note here that the large cross that once dangled around the neck of the press secretary seems to have disappeared), it’s mind-boggling to have such incongruity when it comes to notions of power, status, loyalty, etc. It’s not that I think the US ought to be a more clearly Christian country, but when the leaders of the country make such bold assertions about their Christian faith, how in the world can basic elements of that faith be so absent from their rhetoric and actions?

So, I’m feeling hopeless and helpless. But, I’m also aware that it’s not a bad thing to admit to such feelings, particularly during Holy Week. There’s a whole lot of helplessness and hopelessness in the stories that we consider and pray over during this momentous time. Perhaps leaning into the hopelessness and helplessness will lead to a new awareness of the Easter message, and the reality of Easter.

I can only hope.