Simply put, if we are going to save the planet, the emphasis needs to be on the “we.” I’m not suggesting that the work each of us does individually doesn’t matter (though the impact is obviously seen collectively). But I am saying that we individual humans function a whole lot better when we act as one. Finding that unity may sound like one of the more difficult challenges that lays ahead, but I want to tell you that my experience Monday taught me otherwise.For 16 miles from Ware to Spencer, I joined with the wonderful, faith-filled, strong-legged and beautiful-footed people who have chosen to take the Interfaith Walk for Climate Rescue. Close to 40 people shared that day’s pilgrimage and more than a dozen of them started in Northampton with the goal of going all the way to Boston. Bound together in a common purpose, we individual seekers sought out each other to learn from our diversity and exult in our unity.
There was Margaret, a likely candidate for companionship since we are both ordained. When I learned that she was Episcopalian I showed her the Anglican prayer beads that have been in my pocket every day during Lent. She responded by whipping out her own and was eager to learn how I have been using them to pray the prayer of Saint Francis. “What comes after ‘where there is darkness, light’?” she asked a number of steps closer to Spencer. “Where there is sadness, joy,” I said. Two Protestant clergy praying a Catholic prayer seems to be one simple way to becoming instruments of God’s peace.
There was Steve, culturally Jewish, but an atheist—or so said Newall as they introduced themselves to me the night before as they welcomed me into “the men’s caucus.” But gender wasn’t all that I had in common with Steve. Aside from a shared love of a laugh and my own proclivity to channel my “inner rabbi,” Steve said that he is in awe of the way that us religious folks find the motivation to do these acts of hopeful witness. Well hello Steve, you have obviously found some well to tap as well since you are taking your tired legs and aching feet all the way to Boston this week! When we get right down to it, we all have more in common than the interesting, but few things that separate us.
There was Kate, who blessed me with the most darling welcome with a hand on my cheek and a smile in her deep eyes assuring me that I would be sheltered and fed and embraced by the group. Of course she was correct. This was the sort of crowd where I knew that my vegetarian ways would be no obstacle and I indeed was fed—delicious food and nourishment that my soul devoured.
There was Wren, a species unique in all the universe. I knew better than to insult her by asking if she was four. The wisdom of my reservation was revealed when she announced to me that she was four-and-three-quarters (oh how I adore children of this age, even when they declare themselves to be "super-bear" and address me as "dinner")! During the very first steps of the day I let her know that I would be searching for other wrens today as I wanted to record all the birds we encountered on our walk. I even played the song of the Carolina Wren for her, explaining that it sounds like it is saying “teakettle, teakettle, teakettle.” 29 species and over 35,000 steps later, she was the only wren I had seen or heard. Just before dinner I probably should have changed the list total to 30 when I heard her say, “I’m a Carolina Wren…teakettle, teakettle, teakettle.” Did I mention how much I adore children who are four-and-three-quarters, especially those who at such a tender age are compelled into walking (or riding in a stroller as was more often the case) across an entire state by parents who love them enough to work to improve what is left to them?
And there were many more encounters, all equally inspirational and heartwarming during that next to last winter’s day. Each of them worked their seductive spell on me, convincing me that there is yet hope for this sorry world. Each new encounter drew me in and made my departure that much more bittersweet. If only virtually or spiritually I will return to this rag-tag band of believers. But I have a feeling that my blistered feet will pound the pavement next to theirs before the week is over because God’s grip is awfully tight at times…especially in times like these when justice is so greatly required.
