Hopecore

The other day, I was sitting in the recliner with Pippin when something thumped on the side of the house and at almost the exact same time, my watch buzzed and my phone displayed an alert that there was someone on my back patio.

I immediately leapt up and raced to the back door.

There was no one.

So I went to the front door and stepped out onto the front porch.  Again, there was no one.

Judging by the video taken by my Ring camera, several boys had raced across my back patio and down the narrow path that is overgrown with honeysuckle, grapevine and poison ivy.  Only the deer dare walk that path.  I have a small fence at the street side entrance as a deterrent.  It doesn’t stop the deer and apparently it also doesn’t stop middle school boys.

I went back inside and pulled back the curtain to the window that overlooks that small fence, and there, sure enough, were two boys, their backs to me, crouching behind the fence.  I mean, I don’t know why they were crouching—anyone could see them.

There was a third boy out on the street hunched behind the neighbor’s car.

I didn’t even think—I rapped my knuckle on the window.  Immediately the boys jumped and looked at me.  I gave them my “I’m not impressed teacher face” and made a motion with my hand, shooing them away.

And off they ran.

When I told this story to a friend the other day, she was laughing, but not because my story was funny, but because it reminded her of a scene from Project Hail Mary where the main character, Ryland, is attempting to communicate with an alien (and I will leave it at that as to avoid spoilers—I have read the book but not seen the movie personally).

But my friend’s reaction to the movie, days after she had seen it, is evidence of a movie that is really connecting to and sticking with moviegoers.  My friend was still tickled thinking of the movie.  The movie was still bringing her joy. 

I was reading an article the other day that appeared in The Hollywood Reporter about the resurgence of what is called “hopecore” in movies, specifically Project Hail Mary and the Pixar movie, Hoppers.  Hopecore is simply a feelgood movie.  It makes us laugh, probably, but it also touches that part of us, our hearts, if you’re secular, our souls, if you are spiritual, that makes us take a deep breath.  It releases the tension inside of us that we hadn’t even known we were holding.  Hopecore makes us feel seen and held and as the name suggests, it fills us with hope and hope frequently leads to optimistic thoughts, thoughts like, “Yeah, the world is in rough place right now, but it’s going to be okay.”

In fact, of the ten highest earning movies so far this year, at least half of them, I would call hopecore.  They include: The Super Mario Galaxy movie; Project Hail Mary; Hoppers; GOAT and Zootopia 2.  Four of these are marketed as kids’ movies, but it’s clear a lot of adults enjoy them, perhaps because it reminds them of a time when things were less complicated.

Even in books, you will find people drawn recently to hopecore.  On the New York Times bestseller lists, you will find books like Raising Hare (one of my top books for 2025) about a woman who raises a wild hare.  Also on the non-fiction list a recently released book When the Forest Breathes: Renewal and Resilience in the Natural World.  Among fiction books you will find, once again, Project Hail Mary, but also Theo of Golden, both of which seem to be on everyone’s bookclub lists.

People’s need for hopecore has led to the sudden popularity of cozy mysteries and cozy fantasies.  Basically if Hallmark had written a mystery or fantasy novel.

People are choosing hopecore because it’s the literary and/or visual equivalent of comfort food.

We need to be reminded—we desperately need to be reminded—that there is goodness in this world and that innocence and empathy and peacefulness are not faults but virtues.

We need to be reminded to abide in radical love.

To turn our back to cynicism and pessimism and nihilism. 

We need to be reminded that Jesus’ words in today’s reading from John 15:1-11—His invitation to abide in Him, to abide in His love is not something we should reject.

“Abide” Jesus says eleven times in today’s reading.

“Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.”

Abiding in Jesus is to lean into Him, is to be protected by Him, by His love, because—we need protecting.

But it’s not just abiding in Jesus, it’s letting Him in to abide in you, to strengthen you, to encourage you, to drive darkness out and replace it with His light and His love. 

What is it that gives you hope these days?

For me, I get a lot of hope from the natural world. 

I am left in awe every time I look out my back door and see the chickadee and robin who have made nests almost right on top of each other, unafraid to share space, tolerant of each other’s cries and songs.  Those nests are filled with potential.

I also have hope whenever I walk down the street and see the weeds, yes even the dandelions, because that means there is life.  Winter is over.  Spring’s roots are growing deep and much of what looks forsaken now will be overflowing with color and movement and life very soon.

But I also get hope from each of you, from the people in my life, from strangers and friends, from family to new friends.  Yes, I even get hope from the two boys hiding behind the fence in my yard.  Why?  Because they were playing and, for a lot of kids these days, play is luxury.

People give me hope because I see the light in each of you.  And if you only knew how bright your light shined, you would never fear the dark.  It is the light of Jesus abiding in each of you.

Now complete the circuit.

Abide in Him.  Only then can our joy be complete.

Amen.