Note: this reflection was written in 2014. Its message remains true today, with an even greater sense of urgency.
The below uses as its foundation a sermon originally delivered on February 16, 2014 at MCC in the Valley, North Hollywood entitled “A Climate of Hope.” It was based on an environmental reflection of 2 Corinthians 4:7-11.
During the 1990’s, in addition to my career as a classical singer and teacher, I worked at the Samaritan Pain Management Center in San Jose. I was the front office person in a team of four people – an anesthesiologist, a nurse and an office manager – providing treatment to people with chronic pain due to injury and sometimes, terminal illness. Many of our patients were those whose primary care physicians had given up on them – their level of pain was too much for them to handle. And a good portion of our patients were in the final stages of dying, accompanied with debilitating pain. The job of Dr. Robert Presley, our anesthesiologist, was to find treatment options that would reduce pain and, most importantly, provide a greater quality of life so that our patients could live their final days in some modicum of comfort, and connect with those they loved in a meaningful way.
We grew fond of our patients, even those who came in acting out and yelling at us because of intractable pain. I had the great opportunity to engage them in conversation as they waited for their appointment. I often headed home amazed at the strength, hope and courage that many of our terminal patients exhibited in the face of their own death. In spite of pain and the unknown, many of our cherished patients lived with hope, grace and very importantly, humor, and taught the staff how to live. More than two decades later, I remain impressed by that lively cast of characters, and wonder if I would be able to have that kind of courage if faced with the same diagnosis.
At the same time of working at the pain center, I had a friend named Ray Rivera who was the partner of one of my close friends. Ray was HIV positive. When Ray was diagnosed, we didn’t have the same quality of anti-retroviral drugs that we do now, which often renders HIV more a “chronic condition” for many folks in the U.S. Ray was from New York, his mother was from Puerto Rico, and Ray was a stand-up comic. Now, put all these together and you get one funny guy with a wealth of experience. He was always doing little comic routines for his friends of how it was to live in New York, the things he had to do to survive as a struggling comic (like stealing Swanson’s dinners from the local corner store) and going through the munchies after smoking marijuana. In the last year of his life he held monthly movie nights for his friends. I’ve never laughed so hard in all my life at those gatherings, even when the feature movie was John Carpenter’s “The Thing.”
When his medical status changed to a more active stage of AIDS, I asked Ray once how he was coping, what kept him going. He said, ‘Well, I know that whatever happens, I’ll be able to manage. Each thing that comes up, I’ll just manage it. And then, one day something major will happen and it will mean the end for me and I won’t get through that. But until that happens, I’ll deal with every other thing.’
In his final days, Ray was at Stanford Hospital. Two days before he passed, I visited him. He was hooked up to IV’s and a very large cumbersome breathing apparatus. I was overcome by sadness and you know what this loving, comedic guy did? Though he couldn’t speak, he grabbed the breathing apparatus and played with it, making himself look kind of like an elephant. I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing and hugged him. He smiled his big smile and I knew he was happy because he made me laugh.
I often think of the patients at the Samaritan Pain Management Center and of Ray. And I’m thinking of them more and more in light of what is happening environmentally. Those of us who are concerned about climate change have followed the last twenty years of research, scientific development and severe weather events. But now, we see it is upon us. To make a medical parallel, earth is turning a corner, where we are no longer afflicted with an occasional symptom, an occasional upset where we sense something is wrong. We are now entering into a chronic condition, a hailstorm of symptoms, with the hint of a terminal phase in which life as we know it will be altered.
Many of us are deeply involved in witnessing our changing climate, our role in it, and solutions aimed at staving off the worst effects of climate change. As people of faith, as lovers of all that is, we are responding to the faith mandate to care for all of Creation. We’re reducing our energy use, using public transportation and driving fuel-efficient cars, reducing our water usage, and fighting for tough legislation that expands renewable energy and energy efficiency. Most of all, we understand that external efforts must be matched with internal transformation that guides our thoughts and actions in how we relate to all of Creation including one another.
In Elizabeth Kolbert’s 2014 book, The 6th Mass Extinction, she explains that because of our current reliance on fossil fuels, over-consumption, and other environmental stressors, we are now in the beginning of the 6th mass extinction that Earth has undergone. In an interview with Terri Gross on Fresh Air, she said:
If we continue at our present rate of CO2 emissions, then by the end of this century … you’re looking at eliminating a third of the creatures in the ocean as a very rough estimate.
We are now witnessing and living through what climate scientists have been predicting for decades. A worsening of destructive events mainly due to fossil fuel use and environmental degradation, such as wildfires linked to drought, disasters such as Typhoon Haiyan in 2014, and 2020’s record-breaking number of severe weather events in the U.S. all point to our new reality. The aftermath of these events are multiple: death, internal displacement, migration, disease, famine, destruction of homes and property.
We cannot not be concerned and saddened by this situation. But, as people of faith and conscience, how do we maintain a sense of hope in the midst of our ecological illness? In the face of the first stages of ecological demise, what keeps us going through the “valley of the shadow of death?” What kept my friend Ray going in the face of death, instead of just giving up because of depression and a sense of hopelessness?
I suggest there are several things that can and do keep us going. First, we examine our situation closely, recognize our part, and work to reduce our responsibility. Unlike a medical diagnosis of cancer, in which the cause is difficult or sometimes impossible to find, our ecological crisis is due to our over-reliance on fossil fuels and our destruction of Earth’s resources. We are not victims; we are perpetrators. Knowing the cause creates a sense of empowerment while we work to find solutions and reduce what is making Earth and her inhabitants sick. Most of us did not realize our role in climate change until a couple of decades or so ago. But now that we do, we must accept responsibility to change the situation, not to fall into inaction. If we do not work change our behavior and quickly implement solutions – individually and communally – we are fully complicit in the on-going catastrophes that are affecting us.
The second thing that can and will keep hope and action alive is the recognition that God is present in our world no matter what. We must, as people who believe in an ever-creating and sustaining Creator, keep our focus centered on the great I Am. To fall into despair and inaction is, in a sense, to deny the existence of God. Instead, we are all called to work in the garden of life, with particular gifts and talents. We are called to be co-creators with God, to be the best vineyard workers possible. Our loving Creator is always in the act of making things new and will never leave us. As long as we are capable, we must never abandon Her, especially with the mess we’ve made.
The third thing that provides a sense of hope is the opportunity for expanded love and creativity that is present in the face of our ecological crisis. I am sure most of us have had the experience of being with a loved one who is gravely ill; the sense of compassion and gentleness, and deep, deep care you strive to provide because you want to protect your loved one from pain and discomfort. This ecological crisis has sprung so many people into loving action, from giving generously to victims of extreme weather events, to ecological efforts all over the world, to a mass effort at carbon pollution reduction and energy efficiency.
And here’s a little irony: as this ecological crisis descends upon us, we’re taking time to learn more about the vast grandeur and beauty of what is in peril. Most of us don’t go to the desert to see the flowers bloom, or learn about coral reefs and the all the little animals that live in them. Most of us hardly look up at the sky, or read books about the incredible eco-systems that live in rain forests or even our own back yard. But we are now; we’re witnessing the amazing diversity of life even as some of it passes away. As family and friends unite over a dying loved one, we are finally understanding that there is no separation between Earth and humanity – we are all deeply inter-connected by life and loss.
The fourth thing that gives us a sense of hope is something that I believe we are just beginning to grasp: a sense of the long-term transformation that is nascently evident, and will continue, to take place. In other words, thinking a thousand years out, asking the question, how will Earth and her beings be transformed? Some of us, including myself, may react with, ‘there is no eventual good that will come of climate change and environmental destruction.’ And I do not intend to let us off the hook for our responsibility with a simple platitude of ‘look on the bright side, something good will eventually come.’ Instead, as loving, acting people of faith, we believe that the Creator is always creating something new, even in the face of our destruction and reconstruction efforts. The loving action we are part of today will be the catalyst for positive growth in the future. For example, this crisis has already led to the creation of the “Transition Movement”, in which local communities are growing their own food, eating less meat, walking and biking and using natural forms of transportation rather than cars, and living, working and playing in concentrated centers as much as possible.
We act now with the knowledge that God will be present in the future, and, hopefully, our actions today, as we learn a new way of living on Earth, will be beacons of light and, hopefully, will be the nature-based “status quo” of the future.
Accepting our responsibility of the crisis and working on solutions, recognizing that the Creator is ever-present, and openness to transformation are real and practical responses to feelings of helplessness. In addition, there is nothing that can happen to us that will prevent us from taking care of one another in the face of tragedy; and, at a certain point, death is not the worst thing that can happen to us – the worst is for us to be dead in faith, heart, and action while still alive.