Category Archives: Justice

How to Really Help Hurricane Harvey Victims

“American Christians are incredibly responsive when it comes to acts of mercy. You know, famines, epidemics and floods – we can be really generous.” Sitting across the lunch table from me in Philadelphia, evangelical theologian Ron Sider smiled kindly as he dwelt on the heartfelt compassion of our fellow evangelicals.

But then a more somber cloud darkened the Christian justice icon’s brow. “When it comes to structural injustice,” he said, “the economic, environmental and social systems that lurk just below the surface of human suffering – we’re not nearly so good at that.”

Ron Sider, theologian, author, activist and founder of Evangelicals for Social Action

One of the happiest associations of my life has been with Sider, a lifelong campaigner for gospel justice and founder of Evangelicals for Social Action. Like hundreds of other bit-players in his orbit, I’ve always been amazed at his gentleness toward those whom God has called him to rouse from comfortable religious slumber. But he was definitely onto something: If we evangelicals could be persuaded to care about the underlying causes of calamity, the world could be transformed for good – on earth as it is in Heaven.

As I watch the news pour in from Houston today, Sider’s words come back to me, in real time. I am dying to get in on the tangible relief. Where can I give? There’s the Red Cross, of course. (http://rdcrss.org/2xvQKd8) And there’s the Salvation Army. (http://bit.ly/2vtIdF2) I can help! Even $25 will make a difference!

My heart is pounding. I want to do something! And so do millions of other Christians. We will give. And in the coming months, we’ll pack up crow bars and hammers, and help tear out the mold and ruined wiring – just like Sider said we would.

But his words still haunt my thoughts: What about the CAUSES of Houston’s suffering?

Decades ago, Ron Sider helped to found the country’s largest evangelical network advocating for urgent climate action. He knew then, as we all know now, that virtually every coastal city will be condemned to Houston’s present fate, if we don’t overcome denial and act to preserve the earth’s climate systems. And we were recently making serious progress. We were reducing our carbon footprints. Our nation had a Clean Power Plan for low-carbon electricity. In our future were clean-running cars, and mining that cleaned up after itself. Our seas and our atmosphere were going to be nobody’s free dumping ground. And we joined with every other nation in the world in a global effort under the Paris Accord.

Today, roughly six months into the Trump presidency, every one of those initiatives is in shambles, the wreckage left by a President who has called climate change a “Chinese hoax;” an EPA Administrator who has made a career of fighting against climate action on behalf of oil drillers; and an Interior Secretary intent on throwing open Federal lands to coal mining and oil, just when our world is glutted with way too much of the stuff.

What’s the greatest threat to beleaguered Houston today? As bad as things are now – and they are awful – they could be unimaginably horrible if we don’t stop the madness. And the chaos will almost certainly be extended to Norfolk, Tampa, Boston, Miami, New York and New Orleans. (Not to bore you with Dhaka, Kolkata, Lagos, Amsterdam, London, Ho Chi Minh City, Manila, Guangzhou and Shanghai.)

And so, if you’re willing to take a word from the social conscience of the American evangelical church, Ron Sider would surely applaud your impulse to give to the Red Cross and the Salvation Army – and to sign up with All Hands Volunteers. (https://www.hands.org/) … BUT…

Let me suggest – as he would – that you also consider joining the fight against the underlying causes: the sea level rise and the heat-driven extreme weather that have caused the National Weather Service to declare Harvey “unprecedented & beyond anything experienced.”

Unfortunately, today you can’t really fight the underlying causes in Congress. Of course, the White House isn’t listening either. But the COURTS are. And that’s where the Environmental Defense Fund (http://bit.ly/2gndzvl), EarthJustice (http://bit.ly/2xvK0eX) and even the Natural Resources Defense Council (http://on.nrdc.org/20F006z) operate. If you care for people like those in Houston, these three entities may do as much good – and perhaps much more – than the bearers of tangible relief like food and shelter.

For example, EDF is measuring how much methane (a powerful climate-warming gas) escapes from every kind of industry; and it’s fighting the President’s efforts to kill the Clean Power Plan. EarthJustice is fighting pipelines that threaten indigenous people and rules seeking to block the progress toward clean fuels. NRDC is fighting against the dirtiest fossil-fuel projects, and supporting the transition to cleaner energy sources.

So, my friends, please, go ahead. The Red Cross is working around the clock, and they need your help. But maybe, you might save some of your giving for those who labor in the courtrooms as well? Today, they may be the last, best hope for a country mired in catastrophic climate denial — and for the good folks of the Texas Coast.

Standing Rock Sioux: Endurance, Resistance, Prayer

The Standing Rock Lakota Sioux are still standing tall, despite a new president standing with the oil companies against them. Are we with them, or with the powers once again threatening their shrunken homelands?

To take action, join Call Congress Today, a community devoted to speaking truth to power on a daily basis. Or Climate Caretakers, a community dedicated to learning, praying and acting on climate justice. Or give directly to Standing Rock using links in the video.

Thank you, and God bless you.

Climate Orphans: What You Did For Fokandraza, You Did For Me

“As Donald Trump Denies Climate Change, These Kids Die of It.”

That’s the title of an article written last week by Nicholas Kristof, op-ed columnist for the New York Times. For the article and related video, Kristof travels to Madagascar, the enormous island off the coast of eastern Africa, pictured as a lush paradise in the popular animated children’s movie series. Now, southern Madagascar is little more than a desert wasteland. Major rivers are reduced to muddy puddles. Forests and farm fields are now dust spotted with cactus, where starving children nibble around sharp thorns to put something in their bellies.

So, meet two little boys, Fokandraza and Foriavi, among the millions now dubbed “climate orphans” – their parents having left long ago to find work and money in desperate hopes of feeding the family. They live with their aunt, who can’t afford to feed her own children, let alone Fokandraza and Foriavi.

“If I were smart, I’d go and find a better life,” says the starving boys’ aunt. “But these kids are so sweet, I can’t leave them.”

Kristof asks the boys: “Have you eaten anything today?”

Fokandraza’s stick-thin arms hang limply at his sides. “No.”

Kristof: “Have you drunk water today?”

“No.”

Foriavi can’t even stay awake during the interview.

Kristof: “I don’t blame the aunt. The situation is more my fault than hers. Here’s the paradox of climate change: It’s mainly caused by affluent people. People like us. And those who suffer the most are the poor and vulnerable.”

So maybe we don’t care all that much about climate change here in affluent America. Our president elect certainly doesn’t, and has promised to gut all global and national efforts to deal with the crisis. But now we know Fokandraza and Foriavi, the faces of a world facing runaway climate chaos.

Remember their names: Fokandraza and Foriavi. We will certainly hear them again, when the Son of Man comes again in his glory. “What you did for Fokandraza and Foriavi, you did for me. And what you did not do for them, you did not do for me.” (Adapted from Matthew 25: 31-46)

How will we answer, brothers and sisters? How will we answer?

What to do? For starters, go to the Climate Caretakers website and take the climate pledge — to learn, pray and act on climate. Every week, you’ll receive an email helping you in your prayers. This week, you’ll be praying for Fokandraza and Foriavi, and for Donald Trump.

Standing Rock Reflections: Pray, pray, pray…

“Get up everybody! It’s a beautiful day! Get up! Come to the sacred fire!”

The voice on the loudspeaker carries over the frozen camp, the dawn little more than a gray blush on the eastern horizon. Teepees, tents and campers are still mostly dark. The wind howls. It’s still snowing. This is definitely not a beautiful day.

“Get up! Come to the fire and pray. Come and pray! That’s what we’re here for!”

Aceti Sakowin Camp before dawn, lit by DAPL pipeline construction lights

The inside walls of my little tent are glazed with a solid sheet of ice. The moisture from my breath in the night now fused with the structure of my little home. I cinch down the drawstring of my mummy bag tighter around my face, and close my eyes.

“Get up, my relatives! Get up Christians! It’s time to pray!”

Now that’s not entirely fair. I’m a Christian, and the voice is basically calling me by name. So this old white man groans and struggles to unzip the cocoon of warmth that has swaddled him through the night, and reaches for the stiff, icey trousers frozen to the tent floor.

The Oceti Sakowin Camp of the Standing Rock Sioux sprawls along the Cannon Ball River and the Dakota Access Pipeline construction route for what seems like a mile or more. For some reason, I have pitched my little tent a long, long way from the “sacred fire,” where the morning Prayer Circle meets. So by the time I slip and stumble my way to the gathering crowd, the prayers have begun. An elder of the Lakota Sioux – the voice that aroused me from sleep – is still speaking.

“Mother Earth, she is hurting right now. She is hurting. She needs us to help her. You know, we now have earthquakes all the time. This is not good. And I hear that up north, the ice and snow are melting, and flowing into the oceans. The sea creatures are being harmed, and the water is rising.”

This is what I have come to expect from Sioux elders. Concern for the whole earth. Concern for the local ecosystem. A keen sense of our place in the larger creation.

“Governor Dalrymple tells us we’re breaking the law. But we’re protecting the earth. They think that they can take, and take, and take from Mother Earth. But you can’t only take, without injuring the creation. At some point, you have to stop taking, and give something back….”

Then he begins to pray. I don’t understand a word. He sings. The notes are unfamiliar to me. I’ve heard these sounds in film – the eerie tune, the drums. They are foreign. This is not my religion. He’s praying to an indigenous God, no? Still, I try to remain in the spirit, praying as best I know how in my own language, in my own faith.

Suddenly, the speaker turns to English: “Our Lord Jesus Christ! We thank you for your love and grace! We praise you! We call on you to protect the earth that you love…”

Whoa! What’s going on here? I had thought….

“… In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

The prayer service is not nearly over. We are given tobacco, cedar leaves, sage, and small cups of water from many other rivers. We are marching in procession to the Cannon Ball River, to bless the waters, and to pray for them. Eventually, it is my turn at the river’s edge. As the women sing, I kneel in the snow, and reach out over the water.

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it; the world, and all who live in it,” I recite as I offer my tobacco and cedar leaves to the icy waters. “For he founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the waters.” I pour out my little cup of waters collected from afar.

“Get up and pray! That’s what we’re here for!”

I am finished. I struggle to my feet, and the singing women smile as they offer me their hands to keep me from falling. I reach for them gratefully.

If you are looking for theological answers from this post, I’m so sorry. You will be disappointed. But theology tends to be challenged and refined by the rough and tumble of life, doesn’t it? I have said that I have come back from Standing Rock believing that Christians must engage with indigenous spirituality, without fear, without prejudice, and with confidence in the presence and guidance of the Holy Spirit.

I believe that. I don’t fully understand it, however. But this I do understand: The apostle Paul tells us in that most famous of gospel passages – Romans 8 – that the groaning creation “waits with longing for the sons of God to be revealed.”

Who, today, are the sons of God bringing relief to the groaning creation in the Dakotas? Who are these sons of God? Up on the distant ridge are the armor-clad police, the massive earth movers and drilling machinery. Overhead, the planes and helicopters, keeping an eye on our every move. Here, by the river, are the Lakota Sioux, praying, singing, preparing to confront the engines of the petro-state.

Who are the sons of God? Who are the ones bringing good news to the creation?

A singing woman meets my eyes. I smile weakly as I take her hand, and steady myself for the climb back up the riverbank. There is much work ahead today.

Note: This is the third in a series of Standing Rock Reflections. Prior posts are

 

Standing Rock Reflections #2: Broken Treaties are not “History”

Hi. It’s John again. I promised you that I would report back from my time last week among the Lakota Sioux. You already know a lot about the events in Standing Rock:

  • tob_standingrockwinterlg01_custom-447228e62f73efc8e1a1e012f7b2ee19aaeb676c-s1000-c85

    Lakota Sioux and allies braving the Dakota winter to stop the DAPL pipeline.

    How some 10,000 unarmed people – indigenous and immigrants alike – have placed their bodies in the way of the “Black Snake” – the $3.8 billion Dakota Access Pipeline.

  • How police have fired on them with nearly every conceivable non-lethal weapon, injuring hundreds.
  • How thousands of American veterans have swelled the ranks of the indigenous protesters.
  • And how – for now – the US government has decided to deny further pipeline permits.

For the moment, the DAPL pipeline appears to be stopped. For now. And yesterday, I offered the first of a series of five reflections from my brief time resisting the DAPL pipeline. In brief, here they are:

  • The struggle for a survivable climate will not come away clean from other struggles for justice, like indigenous rights, racial justice and inequality. (I discussed this yesterday.)
  • Indigenous treaty rights are not a closed book, as though we can just shrug and blame it on Columbus, or Adam, or something else in the distant past. (Today. See below.)
  • Christians must engage with indigenous spirituality, without fear, without prejudice, and with confidence in the presence and guidance of the Holy Spirit.
  • There are laws on the books today that are not worthy of our obedience. Many of us prefer to look honestly at unjust laws only in our history books, rather than in our newspapers.
  • Many Christians insist on seeing their ethics in black and white. But following Jesus into the arena of injustice may challenge our comfortable purity.

Those Broken Treaties: Not My Problem?

Indigenous treaty rights are not a closed book, as though we can just shrug and blame it on Columbus, or Adam, or something else in the distant past.

We all know the facts. Our nation has violated treaty after treaty with virtually every indigenous nation. We shake our heads piously at this theft of land, this genocide, based solely on the race of our treaty partners. But how does it end there? Has the passage of time absolved the guilt of racist genocide? How is it that we ourselves feel no obligation to honor treaty rights of those whose principal crime was that they occupied land that our race wanted?  This is not the sin of some distant “Adam,” which we can only lament, but recent actions that are only tolerated among us because of racism and power.

Source: National Geographic

Source: National Geographic

In Standing Rock, a stranger like me would hardly know that he is standing on a mere remnant of land legally allocated to the Oglalla Sioux in the days of my great-grandfather. In 1851, the United States and the Sioux nations bound themselves under the Treaty of Fort Laramie to recognize each other’s sovereign territory. The Great Sioux Reservation, recognized under the Treaty, spanned half of today’s South Dakota, one third of Nebraska, a quarter of Wyoming, plus parts of North Dakota and Montana to boot. At more than 100,000 square miles, it was larger than New York and Pennsylvania combined. It was larger than all six states of New England, plus New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland. Only eight states on today’s map are larger than the Sioux Nation, established by a binding treaty of the United States.

Since then, my country and race has repeatedly seized those lands – ultimately without even the pretense of rectitude, solely because of an assumed right of white Europeans to own the “empty lands” – Terra Nullius – before them. At its heart was radical racism: Lands that are not occupied by English-speaking white people are empty, available for conquest, regardless of treaty obligations.

Source: National Geographic

Source: National Geographic

And while we almost all think of these land grabs as distant historical artifacts, the Standing Rock Sioux lost one-quarter of their homes without consent in 1958, when the US government dammed the Missouri River, creating Lake Oahe, which inundated Sioux riverfront communities.

And now, in many political circles, the Sioux are vilified because, in their defense of the creation, they are trespassing on Federal lands outside of the final remnant of their territry. No matter that those very lands have been seized with impunity – even during our own lifetimes.

What Can We Do? 

I was surprised to hear that in June 2016, the Christian Reformed Church (CRCNA) adopted a report repudiating the Doctrine of Discovery – the Christian edict originating in the 1500s which provided theological cover for the racist seizure of Native lands in the New World.

“What’s a modern-day church doing unearthing arcane papal edicts?” I wondered at the time.

Well, it turns out that they were doing something sorely needed, as a start. The CRCNA operated boarding schools which indigenous children were forced to attend as a tool of assimilation into European culture – right into the 1900s. Furthermore, many CRCNA churches and their members occupy unceded native treaty lands. As such, they are the beneficiaries of land theft.

“We don’t like to hear these stories, but we drink downstream from them,” said CRCNA task force member Mike Hogeterp during the 2016 synod. “We cannot change that brokenness today, but perhaps in truth-telling and lament as a first posture we can begin to reconcile.”

Truth-telling. Lament. Reconciliation.

We saw that displayed vividly yesterday in Standing Rock. In a ground-breaking “Forgiveness Ceremony,” US military veterans confessed American crimes against the Sioux people.

Here are the words of the veterans’ spokesman, Wesley Clark, Jr. “We came. We fought you. We took your land. We signed treaties that we broke. We stole minerals from your sacred hills. We blasted the faces of our presidents onto your sacred mountain. … We didn’t respect you, we polluted your Earth, we’ve hurt you in so many ways but we’ve come to say that we are sorry. We are at your service and we beg for your forgiveness.”

Some will say: These are mere words. And perhaps that’s fair enough. But we cannot begin to atone, and to reconcile, without words. And even more, these same veterans have come to Standing Rock to place themselves on the front lines in defense of the Sioux people struggling to protect the earth and their homes from the DAPL pipeline.

Where does atonement for crimes against Native Americans lead us? I cannot say. But if we are serious in our prayers for God to heal our land, then we must begin to pray, to learn and to act. For starters, whose land do you live on? I’m on Lenape land. How about you? Can we find the elders of our land’s true owners?

Do we even dare to try?

Standing Rock Reflections: It’s All One Struggle

Hi. This is John. I promised you that I would report from my time last week in North Dakota, where I was among those supporting the Standing Rock Sioux. You already know a lot about the events in Standing Rock:

  • How some 10,000 unarmed people – indigenous and immigrants alike – have placed their bodies in the way of the “Black Snake” – the $3.8 billion Dakota Access Pipe Line – as it advances toward completion under the Missouri River.
  • How police have fired on them with nearly every conceivable non-lethal weapon, including water cannons in subfreezing temperatures, concussion grenades, rubber bullets and mace that have injured hundreds.
  • How thousands of American veterans have swelled the ranks of the indigenous protesters, to place their lives on the line once again – this time facing the weapons of American police.
  • And how – for now – the US government has decided not to issue necessary permits for the DAPL pipeline to slice further into Sioux treaty lands.
The sprawling Aceti Sakowin Camp near the front line of the DAPL pipeline resistance.

The Aceti Sakowin Camp near the front line of the DAPL resistance. The pipeline runs along the ridge beyond..

For now, the pipeline appears to be stopped. For now, the military muscle and corporate might behind this enormous project seems to have been overcome by a modern day incarnation of Gideon and his tiny remnant of unarmed soldiers. But friends, it’s not nearly over. It’s only just begun. More on that in a few days…

But for starters, you’ve asked for my impressions from first-hand experience among this peaceful resistance. I can only tell you how my personal biases have been challenged, and my vision has been focused. So without pretense of any special wisdom, here are some of my take-home thoughts from the stance of Standing Rock Sioux:

  • The struggle for a survivable climate will not come away clean from other struggles for justice, like indigenous rights, racial justice and inequality.
  • Indigenous treaty rights are not a closed book, as though we can just shrug and blame it on Columbus, or Adam, or something else in the distant past.
  • Christians must engage with indigenous spirituality, without fear, without prejudice, and with confidence in the presence and guidance of the Holy Spirit.
  • Many of us prefer to look honestly at unjust laws in our history books, rather than in our newspapers. But there are laws on the books today that are not worthy of our obedience.
  • Many Christians insist on seeing their ethics in black and white. But following Jesus into the arena of injustice may challenge our comfortable purity.

It’s All One Struggle

The struggle for a survivable climate will not come away clean from other struggles for justice, like indigenous rights, racial justice and inequality. We are fighting for each other now.

In America, it’s a tragic fact that climate action is largely a Caucasian passion. We see Latinos facing the onslaught of mass deportation from the xenophobic spirit of the age. African-Americans are facing mass incarceration under a system of justice that seems designed with them uniquely in mind. Muslims are fearful of being registered, monitored or interned because of their faith. The poor and sick are afraid of losing their only lifeline to decent medical care. Marginal communities are being bullied, harassed and hated on subways, in stores and in schoolyards.

But in this dark era, suburban middle-class whites have the “luxury” of caring about climate change – something that can multiply virtually every other problem, and ultimately threaten world civilization, but probably not for another few decades.

So they’ve got their issues, we say. We’ve got ours.

But among the thousands at Standing Rock, it’s becoming clear how firmly bound together these threats really are. You’re worried about migration? Climate disruption is driving millions on a desperate search for food and stability – like we’ve already seen in Syria, Somalia and Darfur. We wonder why black lives don’t seem to matter to so many of us? And yet people of color know they are many times more likely to suffer the effects of polluted water, air and soil than white people. And they’re more likely to need related medical care, whether or not they can afford it. We’re worried about religious tensions between Muslims and Christians? Yet much of Muslim Middle East and North Africa is being rendering nearly uninhabitable by desertification and epic droughts.

And finally, the beleaguered survivors of the American indigenous genocide turn out to be the closest thing we’ve seen to the “sons of God” for whom the injured earth is groaning (see Romans 8:19).

My fellow white Christian earth-keepers, if I’m learning anything from Standing Rock, it’s this: Whatever right I once thought I had to ignore marginalized communities in the name of environmental focus, it’s too high a price to pay. If I want God to hear my cries for his creation under the lash of the consumerist petro-state, I’m going to have to heed his call to bind the wounds of my suffering neighbors on the Jericho Road.

End note: Friends, please come back tomorrow to consider Indigenous Treaty Rights. I went to Standing Rock thinking that broken treaties were unfortunate artifacts of history. Not so much anymore.

Carbon Offsetting for Air Travel Pollution

It takes me the whole week to get over the jet lag. Just in time to get back on the plane to New York. Farewell to my dear, new Himalayan friends. And back home at my little farm in New Jersey, I’m once again beset with the sleepless state that comes with being on the wrong side of the world.

It’s a 5,000-mile roundtrip between New York and Nepal’s capital city of Kathmandu – over Labrador, Greenland, the Arctic ice cap, Siberia, Mongolia and China. My destination is a meeting of Christian church and mission leaders from South Asia, to encourage and plan national movements to care for God’s injured creation – in ecological hotspots like Bangladesh, Pakistan, India and Sri Lanka.

For years now, I have been dying to get to Bangladesh and Pakistan – two enormous countries facing existential threats from the effects of climate change. Rising sea levels, receding Himalayan glaciers, catastrophic droughts and flooding, salinization and severe water stress have made it difficult to see much of a future for tens of millions of my fellow humans in parts of these countries. At the Lausanne South Asia Creation Care Consultation, I would have access to co-laborers from these and other places, and maybe even find ways to help with their efforts.

Source: Foreign Policy

Source: Foreign Policy

But here’s the irony: If climate change is draining the life-blood of these communities, isn’t my carbon-heavy globe-hopping only making things worse? My share of carbon emissions from the flight, tucked back in the economy cabin, comes to 3,362 kilos of CO2, or 7,412 lbs. The average American generates 17.1 tons of CO2 every year. My 3.2-ton flight exceeds a couple of months’ worth of living for most Americans. Worse yet, it’s almost exactly the annual emissions of the average citizen of the Maldives, an island nation facing near-term inundation from rising seas. And it’s close to the average CO2 emissions for all people on earth, about 4.9 tons.

All for one single flight.

And while Nepal is admittedly a long trip, shorter ones are serious polluters too. New York to Paris will spew 1.6 tons of CO2 for an economy seat; a roundtrip to Los Angeles will add 1.1 tons; a drive to the family in Ohio accounts for 109 kilos, or 0.1 tons.

So, what am I supposed to do? Stop traveling?

Well, maybe. Or at least, I might travel with a bit more thought about the consequences. Even if airfare seems affordable, someone else pays the unpriced costs of climate pollution. Whatever our politics, I’m pretty sure we agree that that’s not right.

But some travel is clearly worth it, or simply unavoidable. If so, we’re going to have to get used to offsetting our carbon emissions.

Offsetting? Sure. It’s not hard to make a modest contribution to projects around the world that sequester carbon, in amounts equal to the emissions from our air travel. For me, I use Climate Stewards, an affiliate of A Rocha – the global Christian conservation organization. Climate Stewards directs my carbon offset payments to projects in Ghana, Mexico and Kenya, restoring forests and replacing inefficient cookstoves with new ones. The trees I’m helping to plant and the reduction in kitchen charcoal burning sequester about the same amount of CO2 as my share of the flight emissions.

And it doesn’t break the bank. Climate Stewards’ offsets run about $20 per ton of CO2. Offsetting my flight to Nepal costs me about $65, or around 2 percent of the total cost of my trip. For a flight to Paris, you’d pay $32; Los Angeles would set you back $21. And the drive to Ohio is scarcely more than a bit of pocket change.

Flooding in low-lying Bangladesh

Flooding in low-lying Bangladesh

It’s not difficult at all. Try it at Climate Stewards’ website. You’ll be done in a couple of minutes.

Listen, we know that offsetting is not a panacea. It certainly isn’t a way for people of means to indulge in wasteful and lavish lifestyles without any guilt. But while we look for ways to reduce our carbon footprints, why not offset the effects of pollution that can’t yet be avoided?

Eventually, of course, everyone will do this. The cost of carbon pollution will be baked into transactions for goods and services throughout the global economy. Pollution will no longer be free to polluters and costly to poor and vulnerable communities. But until then, you and I can pay our own little share when we travel simply out of a sense of fairness and decency.

I’m pretty sure you’ll stand a little taller once you start this. And you can know that you’re part of something that God’s people are doing in the world: acting a little more justly, loving a little more kindly, and maybe even walking a little more humbly with our God (Micah 6:8).

Thanks, and God bless you.