Reflections on People’s Climate March for Wisconsin Interfaith Power & Light webinar


Thank you.

I’m really excited for this chance to share with you, partly for the effort of trying to take you on sort of a virtual trip to the streets of New York for the People’s Climate March, but also it’s a great chance for me to re-live it.


You know how getting to tell stories after you’ve been on a trip takes your memory back to that locale and in some way makes your body actually feel like you’re back there…well, that’s how this feels for me now.

And it’s a great thing to re-live, to have the happenings of that exciting weekend freshened and reinvigorated in my mind.


That’s sort of our point of this webinar, to inspire you or to reinvigorate you, and to have that be motivation for our ever-ongoing work. We’re people who need occasional good news and refreshment and re-creation, so I’ll see what I can do.


If I’m trying to put you in my shoes and take you to the streets of New York, it’s only fair first to load you on the bus with me.  Sierra Club helped fund buses all over the country, and for us in the Madison area, that meant three Van Galder coaches. My wife Acacia and I loaded up on Saturday afternoon with about 150 others and hit the road. We stopped late in the evening in Indiana to brush our teeth, at a rest area in Pennsylvania in the middle of the night with the season’s first glimpse of Orion, and then arrived in the morning in New York. Overall, we were gone less than 48 hours, and all but 8 of those hours were on the bus. Yipe.

Yet all that sitting and trying to sleep on the bus wasn’t the hardest part for me. What was most difficult was getting through the Lincoln Tunnel that morning and into lower Manhattan and trying to get to our dropoff point.


It felt like it was taking forever, the city was so crowded. There were a bunch of good faith gatherings and worship services that morning, and I’d hoped to be part of that stuff, but traffic was just too thick and progress too slow. That would become a mark for the day, as we would discover.

Our dropoff, see, was at the back of the staging area. The plan was that it would go by bloc, or by shared interests or involvement. Many from our buses were connected to the Madison efforts against the Enbridge tar sands oil pipeline that is scheduled to ramp up through Wisconsin. (This slide shows the hovering pipeline octopus from our bus.)


By now we’ve all heard the number 400,000, but originally we had no idea to expect anything like that. The organizers were sort of talking around 100,000, maybe hoping 150. There were more than 1500 organizations, though, connected and involved (including some other groups, I’m sure, that you each participate in), so with that spread, there was no real way to survey everybody and get good estimates on who was going to be there.

I just want to show you a little bit of the planned map.


The whole length along Central Park West was just to get people ready.


That’s a mile-and-a-half of staging, and Acacia and I started trying to make our way forward through it, since the interfaith groups were all gathering together way up at the front of the march, up at 59th Street by Columbus Circle.

Well, I’ll tell you now that we never made it. It took us almost two hours to make it that far, the crowds were so thick.

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So I’d intended to represent Wisconsin Interfaith Power & Light along with the other states’ IPL groups, and the Lutheran advocacy group, and so on. But instead I got to represent Wisconsin IPL amid the vegans and socialists and students and wind energy advocates and people for indigenous human rights and Citizens Climate Lobby and brass bands and bicyclists and Seattle Raging Grannies and those calling for military reform and health advocates and clever signs and amazing art and kids and on and on and on.

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That diversity was the most surprising and really the most exciting thing. I would’ve loved to have been among the religious sect and our focus of shared passion, but instead it was so amazingly hopeful to have the broad perspective. I mean, we interfaith folks have our own access point for this work, and it is probably among the most intimate and heartfelt of connections, to find this as a spiritual imperative and a connection to creatures and our shared Creator, with the vast communities of our congregations in prayer and inspiring each other.

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But seeing all the ways others were also already addressing climate change was amazing. Instead of the meager and infrequent actions that our government musters, and even though we were there in New York to bolster the work of the United Nations as they were preparing to meet and have another round of conversations on international agreements, that has for too long failed to make much progress, really even with Obama’s China announcement today. But out on the streets were thousands and thousands of people who were excited about this work, who shared a pause of silence that day and shared cheering, who learned from each other and gave hope to each other, who were ready to make a difference and were already making a difference.

Picture19Which seems like almost a perfect segue into the next part of this webinar, except that I also want to tell you about the conclusion—or the non-conclusion—of the march. Along the way, it seemed appropriate to go past Trump Tower and get to show off how wrong and foolish deniers like him are. It also seemed meaningful to march past the memorial to Teddy Roosevelt at the Museum of Natural History with an inscription to “a great leader…in love and conservation of nature and of the best in life and in [humankind].”


But besides what we marched past was also what we didn’t get to march to. Altogether, from that far-back starting point to the destination would’ve been just under 4 miles. Not counting that distance of the staging area, the official route for the march was about 2.5 miles. Well, we only made it about half that distance.

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One of my last photos shows a view just before entering Times Square. And at that point we were stuck. My phone buzzed with a text message from the march organizers, saying that the police were asking us to disperse. They had no place left to put us. The front of the march had reached the end, and there were so many of us we couldn’t even fit through the streets of New York. There was nowhere left for us to go.


That seems like a good metaphor and also a beautiful vision for our work together. We haven’t reached our destination, we’re still on our way, and have a long way ahead of us in taking care of this earth and mitigating the worst of climate change. That’s the metaphor. The vision and my last words of hope and inspiration is in the idea that there are so many of us connected and abundantly engaged that we entirely overwhelm the system.

Thank you.



What Do You Believe In?

(A newsletter article on “believing in” climate change)

2014-09-21 15.10.24

Acacia and I traveled to New York City for the People’s Climate March. Since returning from the whirlwind bus ride, I’ve heard numerous conversations about whether people “believe in” climate change. So I’ve been pondering our “beliefs” and how we use that term, a reasonable task during this Reformation month.

Often the frame is “beliefs against facts.” In this way, if 97% of scientists agree that human use of fossil fuels is adding carbon dioxide to the atmosphere and causing our planet to warm, then that is “factual” and disproves any other “beliefs.”

I’m not so sure about that. For starters, I don’t like that divide. A book I’m reading by Marcelo Gleiser agrees that both science and art involve “a process of self-discovery, as we try to capture the essence of ourselves and understand our place in the Universe.” Our culture, our worldviews, and the very being of our lives should not be so sharply split or bifurcated. Pitting science against arts, head versus heart, tangible over nebulous is bad for our educational systems and our overall wellbeing. Would we claim that Jim Reichling’s trumpet is more important in his teaching physics than when he’s making music?

Yet conversations about religion also get diverted into this compartmentalizing. Opposed to the answers of science, belief has meant “unanswered or unproven.” For the origins of our cosmos, the mystery of God as Creator allegedly gets replaced by the answer of the Big Bang. Sickness, believed to have been the haunt of demons, now is attributed to germs or viruses. This process led to a “God of the gaps,” that God was only an answer when there wasn’t a “better” rational answer. The place of God’s mysterious, unanswered territory diminished as we discovered more, leaving fewer gaps in our knowledge or understanding. Studies still try to prove whether our beliefs are “true.” It may be biology of healing with prayers, or archaeology and history of the Holy Land. Some even claim there’s nothing left to believe in, since science has proven our old beliefs to be false.

But what is true isn’t only about facts. For example, how could you prove true love? It can’t be quantified in the number of roses you give or how firm a hug is or how long your patience lasts. Love can’t be tallied or dissected. It is true because you count on it, day in and day out.

So a better category for us in this reflection would be trust, confidence. Scholar Marcus Borg describes our beliefs that way (though some of his ideas fall back into the other category of proof, as well). In his book The Heart of Christianity (available in our church library), he writes about the word “creed,” like Apostles’ Creed. From the Latin credo, we translate it as we say, “I believe…” The creed isn’t for agreeing to a set of doctrinal details, he says, but is better felt as “I give my loyalty and allegiance to this God.” It is about commitment, trust, love. Indeed, “believe” is related to the word “belove.”

We gather in worship to be reminded again of the God who so loved us and our world, enabling us to know this God as beloved, as trustworthy, deserving our loyalty. We identify this God’s character best in Jesus, and are committed to God by following him. Again, calling God “Creator” isn’t contrasting the book of Genesis with the Hubble telescope, but understands that God delighted to make, still cherishes, and desires the best for us and this world. If we believe and trust this God, that asks how we should loyally behave to belove this creation also.

Which comes back to the original question: Do you believe in climate change? Or, more to the point, do you believe in responses to climate change?

To me, that question is vital, with enormous consequences. The potential impacts threaten extinction for species on a scale not seen since the dinosaurs. More severe harmful weather can be expected to cause hunger, water shortages, and displacement for the poorest of our human neighbors, perhaps leading toward oppression and war. If we believe God loves God’s creatures and would drive out those demons that harm all health, then we are called to strive against this suffering. That is what our loyalty and commitment mean for believing in our God.

On the other hand, believing we don’t need to respond—not believing in climate change—seems to signal that our ultimate commitment and allegiance is to the profits of corporations and to selfish consumer lifestyles. Finally, I would say it’s incompatible to believe that that’s an acceptable way to act and still believe in the God of Jesus.

+ nick