Spiritual Resistance in Chaotic Times: Strength, Meaning, and Hope

Equipping Spiritual Resistance

In times of rising totalitarianism, when entire communities are targeted with discrimination, hatred, and violence, how do we survive? How do we stay whole, ethical, and grounded in our values? How do we resist without losing ourselves to despair?

For those of us who accompany others on their spiritual journeys – whether as spiritual companions, activists, or simply as friends – these questions are urgent. The people who turn to us may be trans folks, people of color, Spanish speakers, disabled people, or anyone marginalized in America’s current climate. They seek spiritual resources to endure, resist, and reclaim joy in the midst of oppression.

History offers us voices of those who have survived and resisted before. Their wisdom has been forged from the worst of times:  Nazi concentration camps, Soviet gulags, fascist regimes, and anti-colonial struggles. They remind us that even in the fearful times, people have found ways to sustain their spirits, to resist oppression, and to pass on commitment to love, like a candle flame.

Candle lighting another candle (Pexel)

Finding Meaning in the Struggle

Viktor Frankl, a Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist, wrote that “everything can be taken from a man[sic] but one thing, the last of the human freedoms, to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” Frankl found that even in the depths of suffering, meaning was possible. He saw prisoners who, despite starvation and brutality, shared their last piece of bread, and others who found dignity in comforting a fellow inmate.

To resist despair, we must ask: What meaning can we make of our struggle? For some, it may be the commitment to care for others. For others, it may be the knowledge that survival itself is resistance. And for many, it is the understanding that we are part of a lineage of resistance, what Czesław Miłosz called, in “The Captive Mind,” “a mandate from those who have perished, a mandate to act in their place and to fulfill their unfulfilled hope.”

Resisting Silence and Fear

Totalitarianism thrives on silence. It isolates, shames, and convinces people that resistance is futile. Nadezhda Mandelstam, who lived through Stalin’s purges, wrote: “If nothing else is left, one must scream. Silence is the real crime against humanity.” Speaking the truth – even in whispers, even in hidden circles – is a form of defiance.

In Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi tells of her childhood under the Iranian regime, where even wearing the wrong kind of clothing could be deadly. Yet her family laughed together in secret, held underground discussions, and kept the memory of freedom alive. To resist, we do not always need grand gestures; we need only to refuse the lie that we are alone.

The Power of Community and Ritual

Valarie Kaur, a Sikh activist in the USA, speaks of revolutionary love: the idea that survival and resistance are deeply tied to community and care. “The darkness of the womb,” she says, “is not the darkness of the tomb.” Even when everything feels hopeless, something new can be born if we hold each other up.

For those of us providing spiritual companionship, this means helping others stay connected to their traditions, ancestors, and practices. In “My Grandmother’s Hands”, Resmaa Menakem teaches us that trauma is stored in the body, but so is resilience. Simple rituals, breathing, humming, grounding in nature, can remind us that we belong to something larger than our suffering.

As spiritual companions, we can help people ask:

• What practices keep me connected to my dignity?
• Who are my people, past and present, who remind me that I am not alone?
• What stories, prayers, or songs bring me strength?

Plant with roots in water glass (Pexels)

Courage, Humor, and the Refusal to Submit

Vaclav Havel, who resisted Soviet rule in Czechoslovakia, wrote that “hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.” To live in truth, even in small ways, is resistance.

Primo Levi, an Auschwitz survivor, reminds us that laughter is an act of defiance: “If you lose the ability to laugh, you lose the ability to think.” Humor, even in dangerous times, keeps us human. The ability to see absurdity in oppression –to laugh at tyranny’s pomposity, or dance furiously – is a form of spiritual resilience.

Laughing kids on street (Pexels)

Bearing Witness, Holding Memory

Anna Akhmatova, a poet under Stalin, stood in the prison lines with other women, waiting to hear the fate of their loved ones. She wrote, “I stand as witness to the common lot, survivor of that time, that place.” Bearing witness, refusing to let suffering be erased, is itself a form of resistance.

George Orwell warned that authoritarian regimes seek to “obliterate people’s understanding of their own history.” We see this now, as books are banned, histories are rewritten, and entire communities are told they do not belong. Holding memory, telling stories, and refusing to forget is an act of defiance.

Living as Resistance

The line between survival and resistance is not always clear. Sometimes, getting out of bed is resistance. Sometimes, feeding each other is resistance. Sometimes, telling a joke, breathing deeply, or singing an old song is resistance. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn reminds us, “One word of truth shall outweigh the whole world.” Even in a time of fear, we can choose truth.

For those of us who guide others spiritually, our role is to help people remember: You are not alone. You have ancestors – of blood, of spirit, of struggle – who have traveled this road before. You carry something within you that no regime, no oppressor, no law can take away. You are whole, holy, and worthy.

We resist not only for ourselves but for those who came before and those who will come after. And in that resistance, we find each other. We find joy. And we find life.

Let us remain faithful: Faithful to our wholeness, faithful to one another, and faithful to the work we must do.

Blessings of resistance,

Rev. Amy

Deepen and explore spiritual practice and find meaning through spiritual direction work. Find a Spiritual Companion, visit http://AmyBeltaine.info or https://shorturl.at/pr0ue or http://UUSDN.org 

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Stories to Sustain Us: Building the World We Dream Of

The Power of Story

There is an old saying: “The universe is made of stories, not atoms.” Stories are the threads that weave together our collective understanding of who we are and who we can become. They shape our moral imagination, inspire our actions, and sustain us in the long, hard work of change.

Stories from history remind us of what is possible, Songs inspire and inform, moral tales teach, biographies remind us we are not alone, and fiction helps us imagine. Stories have power. 

What Are Our Stories?

For many of us, the challenges of our time—the erosion of democracy, climate chaos, rising inequality—may feel unprecedented. Yet history is full of examples of individuals and communities rising to meet immense challenges. Our ancestors, and the people who lived on the land we now call home, confronted injustice, overcame adversity, and fought for a more just and equitable world.

Whose Stories?

Stories can be transformative and life-saving. Take, for example, our congregation’s building is a sanctuary. Immigration officers may have the legal right now to enter a hospital, a school, or a church, but our Unitarian Universalist faith is grounded in justice and equity. We can raise our voices, and tell the story of what is moral and right. If they know that we will share the story of violating a sacred space, it might change their actions.

Whether today's fear, outrage, and anxiety is new to you or you’ve been doing this work since your momma explained what the words racism, sexism, colonizing, and homophobia meant…

We learn from stories.

These days, I find myself leaning into my Slovak roots and embracing the history of my adopted home, Portugal, by learning about how both nations overthrew oppressive regimes.

Last year, I was leaving the little village of Silves, crossing the bridge with the old Moorish castle in my rearview mirror. The bridge was decorated with little red flowers: crocheted carnations. I realized the flowers celebrated the 50th anniversary of the Carnation Revolution—a peaceful uprising that overthrew decades of dictatorship in Portugal.

Scene from Carnation Revolution AP

The Carnation Revolution: Wake Now My Vision

The Carnation Revolution of 1974 is a powerful example of collective action’s ability to bring about transformation. After years of repression under the Estado Novo regime, the Portuguese people rose up. Life under Estado Novo, established by António Salazar in 1933, was austere and harsh. People who spoke out against the regime often “disappeared,” and mandatory military service sent countless young men to fight unwinnable colonial wars.

The revolution was sparked by military officers opposed to the regime’s brutal colonial wars, but it became a civilian movement. First, the brave ones chose, then people poured into the streets, placing carnations in the barrels of soldiers’ guns as a symbol of peace. Remarkably, the regime fell without bloodshed, replaced by a provisional government that ushered in democracy.

The lyrics of songs are transformative stories as well! The revolution’s spirit was captured in the song “Grândola, Vila Morena” by José Afonso. Played as a signal to start the uprising, its lyrics—“Grândola, Vila Morena, Terra da Fraternidade” (Grândola, Dark Village, Land of Brotherhood)—embodied the ideals of freedom, unity, and fraternity.

There’s a warning in the Salazar regime. He was an economist and beaurocrat who was elected. But prime-minister Salazar’s reforms turned into 40 years of repressive totalitarianism. There is also hope. In the end truth, courage, compassion, and vision won. The Portuguese people remember, and say ‘never again’.

The Carnation Revolution reminds us that peaceful resistance, joy, and solidarity can bloom even in the face of oppression.

The Velvet Revolution: A Testament to Peaceful Change

The Velvet Revolution is another example of the power of peaceful resistance. In 1989, when my son was three,  Czechoslovakia saw its dreams of freedom and democracy realized. Playwright and activist Václav Havel encouraged individuals to “live in truth” by rejecting the lies of the totalitarian state and reclaiming authenticity. His plays made fun of the regime, he defended a rock band that was imprisoned because they had long hair, and he himself was jailed more than once. But he persevered. In every soul and nation comes a time to decide if you will seek truth or falsehood. The people of Czechoslovakia chose to live in truth.

The name “Velvet Revolution” reflects the smooth and nonviolent transition of power. Millions joined together to peacefully end decades of Soviet rule, armed only with their voices, their keys, and their shared vision for a community transformed by care.

The Velvet Revolution teaches us that change does not always require violence; it can arise from trust, poetry, and collective action. As Vclav Havel wrote: "we never decided to become dissidents. We have been transformed into them, without quite knowing how, sometimes we have ended up in prison without precisely knowing how. We simply went ahead and did certain things that we felt we ought to do, and that seemed to us decent to do, nothing more nor less."

Vaclav Havel is acclaimed as President, 1989

And that’s not all

The famous strike in Poland was called the Gdańsk Shipyard Strike or the Solidarity Strike (1980). It led to the formation of the Solidarity (Solidarność) movement, which played a key role in ending communist rule in Poland. Is a general strike the right option for ending oligarchy? It worked there!

What Stories Sustain Us?

Stories sustain us in times of upheaval. They remind us that ordinary people, daring to dream of a better world, have faced impossible odds and prevailed. Stories of hard times and hard work share a common thread: they inspire courage, resilience, and action. Let us remain faithful to the work that must be done.

When the challenges we face—climate chaos, inequality, systemic racism—feel overwhelming, stories whisper to us: “You are not alone. Others have traveled this path before you, and you can too.”

Building the World We Dream Of

As citizens of the world, we are called to build the world we dream of—a world of love and justice. This work requires vision, action, and the spiritual sustenance that stories provide.

The story of the Velvet Revolution teaches us that truth and peaceful resistance can overcome fear. The story of the Carnation Revolution reminds us that courage can bloom like flowers in the face of oppression.

When we tell the stories of the women’s suffrage movement, the civil rights movement, and the ongoing fight for LGBTQ+ equality, we honor the resilience of those who refused to let injustice have the final word. These stories teach us that change may be slow, but it is possible—and it is worth fighting for.

Fiction

Stories of real-life people being brave, or just doing the things they felt they ought to do, or what seemed decent to do, can sustain us. So can fiction. One of my favorites is the Lord of the Rings: The story of a small hobbit carrying a Ring through dangers, Finding friends and in the end, saving the world by being small and faithful to the task given to him. At one point he is speaking with the wise and powerful wizard Gandalf: I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo. "So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us. 

Sustaining Ourselves Through Story

What sustains people through times of great upheaval? Stories of ordinary people daring to persist, dream, and act. Stories that remind us we are part of something greater than ourselves.

When we feel overwhelmed, we can turn to these stories for strength. They tell us, “You are not alone. Others have faced similar struggles and found their way forward.”

Stories are the lifeblood of our shared humanity. They help us remember who we are and imagine who we can become.

Call to Action

This week, I invite you to reflect on a story that inspires you. It could be from history, a loved one, or your own life. Share it with someone, and listen to their story in return.

Together, let us weave a tapestry of solidarity, perseverance, and action. Let us stay faithful to the work before us, and stay grounded in the power of our shared stories.

Blessed be.

You are whole, holy, and worthy,

Rev. Amy Beltaine