The Supreme Court was never going to hear, let alone grant, the request by red-state attorneys general and the White House to overturn the election results in four battleground states that went for Joe Biden. We knew that, we privileged few who could have offered an inventory of the lawsuit’s flaws while standing on one foot. We had not the slightest doubt that the case was a non-starter.

Or did we?

I spent much of last week, nearly up to the moment on Friday night when the court tossed the Texas case into history’s garbage bin, assuring friends and strangers alike that Texas v. Pennsylvania had no merit whatsoever. Texas had no business invoking the court’s original jurisdiction — seeking to come directly to the Supreme Court and bypassing the lower courts — in order to complain directly to the justices about other states’ election processes. The justices, I added, would never permit themselves to be drawn into such a sorry charade.

Many people who emailed me with their questions knew little about the Supreme Court and its jurisdictional quirks, but some were lawyers or avid court-followers who know a lot. Their anxiety was a measure of how much of what we once took for granted has been upended during these past four years. I confess that by the end of the week, the tiniest shadow of doubt had invaded my own mind. And no wonder: The usual inference that even young children are able to draw from experience — “This has never happened before so it’s very unlikely to be happening now” — has proved of dubious utility. We can know all the facts and all the rules, but still, we can’t be sure.

In the aftermath, with the electoral votes counted and the justices off on their four-week winter recess, what more is there to say about the justices’ refusal to grant the Trump team and its statehouse enablers their day in court? It’s easy to understand why the response offered by Michigan’s attorney general, Dana Nessel, became the go-to quote in many accounts of the week’s denouement. The court, she said, delivered “an important reminder that we are a nation of laws, and though some may bend to the desire of a single individual, the courts may not.”

It’s a comforting thought, one that we needed to hear and yearn to believe. But I think it gives the court too much credit. Texas v. Pennsylvania had the form of a Supreme Court case. But it was a Potemkin village of a case, with the proper Gothic typeface on the front cover but nothing inside that resembled sound legal argument. It’s as if someone filed a case asking the court to exercise its original jurisdiction and declare the moon to be made of green cheese. We would hardly pat the justices on the back for tossing out such a case. More likely, we would shrug and say, “There goes another nut case.”

The court receives its share of those among the 6,000 petitions that it whittles down every year to the 65 or so accepted for decision. Of course, those cases don’t arrive, as this one did, with the support of 126 of the 196 Republican members of the House of Representatives. The fact that members of Congress are sometimes called “lawmakers” does not, evidently, bestow on them an actual regard for law.

And celebrating the court for its restraint in the election cases may be premature. The 2020-21 term, nearly three months in, is still unfolding. We have yet to learn either the fate of the Affordable Care Act or how much further the court will go to elevate religion over the principle of nondiscrimination, the question presented in a case from Philadelphia. Both cases were argued last month, during the court’s first argument sitting since the arrival of the newest justice, Amy Coney Barrett.

The country has learned a bit recently about the court’s original jurisdiction — its power to decide without appellate review certain disputes, including between states — something most lawyers never learn much about, let alone encounter. The last time a so-called original case received this much public notice was probably in 1998, when the court gave New Jersey administrative jurisdiction over nearly all of Ellis Island, the immigrant gateway in New York Harbor that New York had long claimed as its own.

The one or two such cases the court decides in a typical year have a certain charm despite their obscurity. This week, for example, the justices decided an original case between New Mexico and Texas. The case, decided in New Mexico’s favor, involved the latest chapter in a long-running dispute over rights to water from the Pecos River. As in most original cases, the court had appointed a special master to look into the problem and recommend how to solve it. Justice Brett Kavanaugh noted in his majority opinion that the special master — the “river master” in this instance — was appointed in 1988 “and he continues to serve in that position” 32 years later. The wheels of the court’s original jurisdiction usually turn very slowly.

A new original case on the court’s docket is not likely to remain obscure for long. It promises, if the court accepts it, to bring the justices into culture-war territory. Last February, Texas sued California directly in the Supreme Court over a law California passed in 2016 that prohibits state-paid travel to states with laws that permit discrimination against L.G.B.T.Q. individuals.

Texas has a law that permits child-welfare agencies to invoke religious reasons for not placing children with same-sex couples for foster care or adoption. Once Texas enacted that law in 2017, California added Texas to the list of states, now numbering 11, to which it will not subsidize travel by its employees. Texas claims that its sovereignty is violated by California’s policy. California argues in response that its own sovereign interest against subsidizing discrimination is at stake.

In June, the justices took the somewhat surprising step of asking the Trump administration for the federal government’s view on the dispute. Early this month, the Office of the Solicitor General filed the government’s brief, urging the court to accept the case and noting that “resolving such conflicts among sovereigns falls within the core of this court’s original and exclusive jurisdiction.” The court will probably announce early in the new year whether it will assume jurisdiction.

I’ll end this column with a shout-out to a federal judge who really did stand up for the rule of law in an opinion last week. The question concerns abortion, and whether, given the conditions of the Covid-19 pandemic, the Food and Drug Administration should relax its rule requiring women to visit their doctor’s office in order to get the medication that causes an early abortion. The F.D.A. has suspended the in-person rule for some other medications, but refused requests from medical organizations to do the same for the abortion drug mifepristone.

In July, Federal District Judge Theodore Chuang, who sits in Greenbelt, Md., issued an injunction requiring the agency to permit doctors, for the duration of the pandemic, to mail or deliver the medication. In October, the Supreme Court responded to the Trump administration’s request for a stay of the injunction by sending the case back to Judge Chuang, telling him to permit the government to argue among other points, that improvements in the Covid-19 situation since the spring meant that visiting a doctor’s office was no longer a sufficient obstacle to merit relaxing the rule for mifepristone.

After receiving the administration’s brief to that effect, Judge Chuang issued a 34-page opinion explaining that while conditions have indeed changed, they have changed for the worse. Noting that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the National Institutes of Health, and the Food and Drug Administration have warned about the increasing intensity of the pandemic, he observed that the administration “has offered no expert opinions from a scientist at one of these agencies or elsewhere in the federal government to contradict the facts and conclusions” about the rising danger.

“The fact that individuals are permitted to venture out during a pandemic to restaurants or businesses does not establish that women should be mandated to risk exposure to Covid-19 in order to exercise a constitutional right,” the judge wrote. Of course, the Trump administration promptly returned to the court this week seeking a stay of Judge Chuang’s decision.

So yes, let’s give credit where credit is due. Let’s thank the courts — plural — for upholding the rule of law. Let’s celebrate the judges who were there when we needed them. We still do.

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