The first time I became aware of a connection between race, faith and climate change was in the late 1980s when I was a sociology student in Venezuela. I lived in Caracas with my family. In this cosmopolitan city, there was lots of nonregulated air pollution that caused me to have a sore throat and irritated eyes daily.
After COVID-19 forced the cancelation of planned projects and in-person worship, Coastland Commons, a 1001 New Worshiping Community in Seattle Presbytery, moved to Zoom discussions about their city’s history of land use by Black, Indigenous and people of color communities. After about six months of Zoom gatherings, they figured out a safe way to see Seattle anew through socially distanced community walks. They reached out to the Museum of History and Industry (MOHAI), which organizes redlining tours in Seattle’s Capitol Hill and Central District neighborhoods.
After COVID-19 forced the cancelation of planned projects and in-person worship, Coastland Commons, a 1001 New Worshiping Community in Seattle Presbytery, moved to Zoom discussions about their city’s history of land use by Black, Indigenous and people of color communities. After about six months of Zoom gatherings, they figured out a safe way to see Seattle anew through socially distanced community walks. They reached out to the Museum of History and Industry (MOHAI), which organizes redlining tours in Seattle’s Capitol Hill and Central District neighborhoods.
Drawn to the ruggedness, remoteness and greenness of rural Guatemala, Richard and Debbie Welch have, for the past six years, worked with that country’s indigenous population to build literacy and educational attainment in a country increasingly in the news because of the Trump administration’s concerns over the number of immigrants entering the United States from Central America.