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What an incredible time to be living in! While skepticism and eco-anxiety tend to be the results we most see nowadays as we grow aware of the dimensions of the climate crisis and the loss of biodiversity and the socio-environmental crisis, for me I can't help but feel the daring and stubborn Christian hope as I grow increasingly committed to ecumenical care for creation. 

On the occasion of the upcoming World Interfaith Harmony Week 2023, which is observed annually from 1-7 February at the United Nations, my thought goes to the urgent call for biodiversity protection from the COP15 held in Montreal, from 7-19 December 2022.

In the world today, border is far from a neutral or natural notion. Depending on the context of interpretation, it evokes different thoughts and emotions. For some, it may recall an expensive wall of xenophobia. For others, it could mean a gateway to safety and refuge, or the relentless defense against hostile aggressors. As we ponder the theme “Christ’s love (re)moves borders,” we shall begin by asking: What are borders? At a time when world powers are trying to change borders by force, what does it mean for Christ’s love to (re)move borders? And, ultimately, how do we discern between ideological pacifism and true unity?

The year often begins with making firm resolutions, taken with earnestness and commitment. The following weeks and months are familiarly littered with broken promises and failures. Successful and consistent adherence to new years’ resolutions is, from my experience, rare. To change this pattern of failure, I look to the holy scripture for help.

If you try hard and believe in the power of positive thinking, you may be able to take comfort that COP26 provided some hope. But if you remove the rose-colored spectacles, it becomes clear that we should abandon the sentiment of hope and commit to lives of faithful resistance.

As people of faith concerned about the climate crisis, there are two origin stories that may guide and concern us as we ponder how we ought to live in the world today. One is the Genesis story, which establishes our faith in the God of Creation, and our particular role in nature. Another, is the story that started years ago on the same soil and the same river where COP26 is taking place today.

Wandering and homecoming is the stuff and substance of life.  Also the heart of the 23rd Psalm, beloved and old and yet ever new and beautifully enlivened in a surprising way: the the new neon installation by James Pfaff who wandered and returned.

The highly anticipated, long awaited COP26 began 31 October. It has now been six years since the adoption of the Paris Agreement at COP21 and much remains to be implemented in order to fulfil the promises agreed to at that historic moment by the member states. We knew then that the road ahead would be challenging and that changing our systems would require a radical shift in policies and behaviours—but we were hopeful. 

The same week Brazil reached half a million deaths by COVID-19, my parents got the first dose of the vaccine. On my way to work, I pass through a vaccination post full of people, and through a cemetery full of grief. The past year and few months were a mix of fear, indignation and anger for me. But also a time where I saw generosity and hope bloom.

As we commemorate 22 May as the International Day for Biological Diversity (Biodiversity Day), we celebrate the beauty and diversity of creation. We acknowledge the glory of God manifested in the whole creation (Palm 104), and the entire creation praises God (Psalm 65).

I’m writing this text exactly one year after Brazil declared quarantine, on 16 March. Last year we went into quarantine thinking it would only be two weeks at home, and maybe a few months of wearing masks and sanitizing our hands. I’m the first to confess that I’ve underestimated the virus. However, we all know that is not how it went. Month after month went by - the internet joked about how could it possibly be August already, when last week was March?

Nigerians, like the rest of the world, have had to battle the threat of COVID-19 since the beginning of the year 2020.

Fifty years after the French tests in Moruroa and Fangataufa, 540 cases of people suffering from cancer are reported every year among our population of 280,000 inhabitants, and so many stillborn infants and deformed children. Isn’t that proof enough that the French nuclear tests were not as clean as the state claims?

Two months ago, I would not have spent a Sunday afternoon driving through a deserted city. There were people out and about, walking with children in strollers, jogging, laughing. Some were driving to do errands and buy groceries. Although it was sunny, there was still a somber pall over the city. I am told the same is true of New York and Chicago, Dallas, Atlanta, and other cities.

“We pray – Peace now – End the War!” This is the motto for the “Light of Peace” Prayer Campaign for the Korean Peninsula. “Peace now!” Now we are caught in the global coronavirus pandemic. The airtime in TV and radio is occupied by news related to the spread of the virus with many bad consequences for health and wealth of humankind. In this crisis we tend to forget other urgent needs. One of them is the call for peace for the Korean Peninsula.

Television, FaceBook and WhatsApp chats bring news from Manila, much of it disheartening. In the early stages of the pandemic with nearly 1,500 cases as of this writing, the Philippines has already lost 12 frontliners to COVID-19 (comprising one-fifth of total fatalities), one of them a young Methodist doctor. This is disastrous for a country that has only 1.3 doctors per 1,000 people (in part due to the exodus of medical professionals to “greener pastures” abroad).

An article on an interesting subject? No, not this time. I can only write from the deep crisis situation we are in at present. There is nothing else that keeps me more busy than the question of how to live with the anxiety and fear of the coronavirus and what to make of it.