The rain was rolling down off my hat in sheets. It soaked through my jeans and gave my brand-new raincoat a run for its money.
When I’d left St. Louis for Washington, D.C., the forecast called for sunshine and mild temperatures. I did not have an umbrella with me, or very warm clothes. Nevertheless, I stood outside in a crowd of people, getting wet, until we were organized enough to begin our march.
As we wound through the streets of our nation’s capital, “singing songs and carrying signs,” as Buffalo Springfield put it, the rain turned to sleet, and then to snow, and then back to rain again. All the water pouring from the skies was ironic, or maybe just oddly appropriate, given that most of our signs and our chants were about water: water is sacred, water is life, you can’t drink oil, and so on.
Just 24 hours before the march began I was cozy and dry, ensconced deep in the halls of power.
I was in Washington at the invitation of Interfaith Power and Light, an organization that helps faith communities respond to climate change both through programs designed to increase energy efficiency at the local level and also through advocacy efforts. My role was to talk to our Missouri senators about protecting and strengthening policies that have a positive impact on our environment, and therefore on their constituents’ health and well-being.
According to the New York Times, a study conducted by Yale University concludes that “Nationally, about seven in 10 Americans support regulating carbon pollution from coal-fired power plants — and 75 percent support regulating CO2 as a pollutant more generally.”
In spite of numbers like that, the Trump administration and many in Congress are working to roll back protections that help reduce such pollution, such as the Clean Power Plan. It is imperative to speak out against this disastrous approach before it is too late.
Learning how to advocate for a cause I believe in has been a deeply empowering process.
I do not come to the table as a policy expert, but as a concerned citizen, and doing so reminds me of the core values of our democracy. “We the people” are what it’s all about.
The legislators and aides who meet with people like me have nothing to gain from it: they are literally just doing their job, listening to their constituents.
For me, the meetings also help to humanize people who might seem like nothing more than “the opposition” or worse, if I’m not careful. The person in front of me might support policies that I find appalling, but when we are face to face it is harder to demonize or scapegoat.
This, too, is a child of God, a person with dignity and intrinsic value. We are not enemies, even if at times we must be opponents.
Environmental advocacy needs to be nonpartisan, and Interfaith Power and Light certainly encouraged us to see it that way.
I spoke with people on both sides of the aisle. One staffer told me that religious groups advocate all the time about an amazing array of issues, some that the general public might see as aligned with the political right, others with a more progressive bent.
I’m proud that I am part of a denomination that supports science and acts to care for our common home, and even happier that climate change is becoming an issue of note for many denominations and faiths. I am inspired by this growing movement, as I am inspired by the authority of Scripture, which tells us again and again that things cannot be well with humanity when they are not well with the earth, the place God gave us to tend and to keep.
Going from the marble corridors of Capitol Hill to the cold and wet streets the next day was an experience I will never forget.
I know there are people who don’t want faith leaders showing up at marches and protests, just as there are those who don’t want us talking about public policy to lawmakers or anyone else. But I see advocacy work and more direct action as two sides of the same coin, two different modes of civic engagement, neither of which I gave up my right to do when I was ordained.
The bottom line is, if I’m not willing to get wet and uncomfortable for a cause that means so much to me, should I be allowed to schmooze with bigwigs and eat donuts at a constituent coffee hour? I don’t think so.
So I joined the "Native Nations Rise" march on Washington as an ally, someone who has learned much about the need to protect and cherish our environment from the increasingly visible indigenous movement.
It was by turns joyful, tearful, exhilarating, and very solemn. When I got on the plane to return home that night, my clothes were still damp, and, more poignantly, they still smelled of the sage that was being burned all around me that day.
It was for me the aroma of sanctity, of blessing and renewal, of challenge and solidarity.
It is a privilege to have these opportunities to show forth in my life what I profess in my faith, as the Book of Common Prayer puts it, and it is a responsibility I do not take lightly.
Links for more information:StlToday.com link: http://www.stltoday.com/lifestyles/faith-and-values/civil-religion/faith-perspectives-humanity-is-not-well-if-the-earth-is/article_803d2b74-0fbb-56e8-9bb7-0145133372ad.html?utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook&utm_campaign=user-share
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