The rising black line on the left shows our experience with greenhouse gas emissions since 2000. The statement posted above it explains that emissions have gone up, not down, since the adoption of the Paris Agreement. The right side of the graph shows the discrepancy of what is being done (or at least planned, or at least committed to) and what must be done to limit warming to the Paris targets in order to prevent all the horrific suffering detailed in the rest of the report. I see the blue line (what’s required to limit warming to 1.5°C) and it looks to me like the draping shroud of Lazarus as his corpse is lowered into the tomb. This is in part because when I look at the most optimistic projections of the current reduction commitments (as pictured in the pink swath), it comes nowhere near what is required for the 2°C target, let alone the 1.5°C one. In other words, this graph screams to me: “We need a miracle!” I can grant that, as per the other statements on this IPCC graph, it “can [still] be achieved through strong reductions across all sectors,” but while the “rapid, deep, and in most cases immediate greenhouse gas emission reductions” may still be physically possible, it strikes me that only miraculous thinking can conceive of them as politically, diplomatically, economically, sociologically, or religiously possible—since it will seemingly take an abrupt divine intervention—a miracle-- working through people to make these rapid, deep, and immediate cuts across all sectors happen.
There is no doubt about it, John 11 is the story of a miracle. Jesus calls Lazarus forth from the grave and it is another one of Jesus’s seven signs in this gospel that he is divine, another occasion for one of his seven I AM statements, in this case, “I am the resurrection and the life.” I will begrudge no one in our Climate Intercessors prayer network who wants to pray for the miracle of preventing a 1.5°C warming. Yet, as I read John 11, while it is obviously the story of a miracle, I don’t believe it is a story about miracles. It is about death and life, and about how in Jesus we live, and breath, and have our being even unto eternity. In my opinion, the best vantage point from which to read John 11 is from the imagined scene of the second time Lazarus dies, from that old-aged inevitable moment that comes to all human beings. In other words, who is Jesus when there is death, but no miracle handy? This substitutes for the question that Mary, Martha, and we normally ask: Where is Jesus when there is death, but no miracle handy?
My favorite rendering of this different vantage point is Darrell Scott’s bluegrass song “Lazarus Dies Again”: here on YouTube. The last lines are about Lazarus and Martha’s life after Jesus has his own resurrection:
After the burial they just move away
Get an apartment in Cairo and live out their days.
He works on chariots and keeps his secret well hid
And never talks about what Jesus did.
The years roll along, they both get on the pension
And he often thinks of his former attention.
On the night he lay dying he calls out to his friend,
"Oh Jesus can you hear me?"
Then Lazarus dies again.
Scott’s mandolin sweeps in and under the sound of the guitar and fiddle, and then you hear the words of the final chorus, just two words this time: “Rise up!” Our friend, who is the resurrection and life, indeed hears Lazarus, and he hears us.
The other great vantage point from which to read the miracle recorded in John 11 is that of emotions. That’s how Scott starts his song, the first time that Lazarus was dead:
Rise up Lazarus, get out of that grave.
Rise and shine Lazarus, clean up and get a shave.
Martha is weeping, she's been gnashing her teeth.
Can't you hear her wailing, rise up and stop her grief?
The dogs are sniffing, the children are scared.
Now, Martha is laughing "brother you've been spared"
She's cooking a goat, calling all her friends
Oh rise up Lazarus and live again (again, again).
There is probably no chapter in all of the gospels more associated with human emotions than John 11. Think of that one verse alone favored by Sunday School children eager to win a Scripture Memorization prize: John 11:35, “Jesus wept.” But grief is not the only emotion that Jesus felt during this time. Verse 33 says “When Jesus saw [Mary] weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled.” The English Standard Version informs us, via a footnote, that “deeply moved in his spirit” could also be translated “indignant.” The New Living Translation comes right out and says, “a deep anger welled up within him.” Who was Jesus angry with? Mary? Mary had just said to him, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” What emotion is Mary feeling? Disappointment?
I am feeling disappointment when I stare at that graph in the IPCC report. I am disappointed in the IPCC for dispassionately holding out what, seems to me, to be hollow hope for the 1.5°C target. Like Bill McKibben, I’m disappointed in my generation that, having known about the target for so long, we’ve done so little to achieve it. I’m disappointed that your hard work and my hard work will signify for later targets, but apparently not for the 1.5°C one, at least not in the way that I wanted our hard work to pay off. In addition to disappointment, I am feeling sad, but I’m also feeling afraid of being labelled a “doomist,” or afraid that I am giving up on the 1.5°C target when maybe “it is still possible” or because “miracles do happen.”
Basically, I am emotional, which is just another way of saying that I am an emotional being; it’s part of being created in the image of God, as our incarnate Savior also knows.
Regardless of whether we breach the 1.5°C target before 2040 or ever, it has become overwhelmingly obvious (and documented) to mental health professionals that we need to begin helping each other process the difficult emotions of climate change. More and more professionals are stepping up to the task, and if you need help in processing who Jesus is when there is death, but no miracle handy—please reach out to a spiritual director, therapist, or eco-grief program.
My wife, Robynn Bliss, is a certified Spiritual Director and she has joined me in offering, once a quarter, a 2 ½ hour webinar/retreat, “Hope and Hard Emotions: Processing Difficult Feelings in the Climate Crisis.” You are invited to our next offering: April 24, at 11 AM- 1:30 PM PDT (2 PM - 4:30 PM EDT; 7 PM - 9:30 PM BST). There is a “pay what you can” option for registration, so that all can attend. Ben Richards of YWAM Scotland helped us schedule this next one for a time when youth in the UK might be available.
You are very dear to God,
Lowell Bliss
on behalf of the Climate Intercessors Leadership Team