From our collaborating partner “Living on Earth,” public radio’s environmental news magazine, aninterview by host Steve Curwood with the Rev. Mariama White-Hammond, pastor of New Roots African Methodist Episcopal Church in Dorchester, Massachusetts. White-Hammond is also the former chief of environment, energy and open spaces for the city of Boston.

The federal holiday Juneteenth celebrates the enforcement of President Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation in Texas in June 1865. By December, all of the 4 million or so persons of African descent who were enslaved at the beginning of the Civil War were finally freed by a constitutional amendment. 

But freedom did not bring full equality, and discrimination led to housing and employment patterns that today still disadvantage Black people in terms of economic and environmental security. 

Just as the enslavement of people was driven by commercial interests, today the enslavement of nature for profit violates a morality that sees value in all living things, according to the Rev. Mariama White-Hammond. And that is why she sees celebrating Juneteenth and the casting off of the shackles of slavery as a way the Black experience can help lead the broader society to freedom—freedom from the ravages of ecological devastation, toxic exposure and the climate emergency. 

Her nearly 600-acre playground while growing up in a predominantly Black neighborhood of Boston was Franklin Park, the jewel of the city’s Emerald Necklace, designed by legendary landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted of Central Park fame. Since those childhood days, White-Hammond has never forgotten nature. 

She is the former chief of environment, energy and open spaces for the city of Boston and leads the New Roots African Methodist Episcopal Church in Dorchester, Massachusetts. She’s also an activist who has been arrested protesting a natural gas pipeline and is active in the Green Justice Coalition. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. 

STEVE CURWOOD: We’re speaking to you about the celebration of Juneteenth. Tell me, what does this holiday mean to you, not just in the 1865 sense, but in the 2025 sense? Why is it important to celebrate Juneteenth today?

THE REV. MARIAMA WHITE-HAMMOND: I grew up not in Texas. But we do have friends in Texas, specifically friends in Galveston, for whom this was a huge holiday, and it’s on my bucket list to get there for one of the full-on Texas celebrations. But I grew up knowing about the holiday, and there has been a gathering in Franklin Park in the city of Boston for as long as I can remember. 

And so I’ve known of the traditions and for us here, it’s really just been a time about joy, a time for folks to gather, a time for people to remember that, truthfully, our engagement in this country did not start in a joyful way, but that we also have been in this country for a long time. We have been shaped by our experience here. We are also shaped by the influence of our ancestors and all of the traditions that that brought. 

It’s a season also to remind ourselves that in the midst of all of the challenges, there has also always been a joy, a celebration, a sense of community. Most Juneteenth gatherings held here in the city of Boston and around the country are often in natural places and parks, in lands that mean something to us. I grew up going to Franklin Park, which was up the street from my house. It’s the place where we also have the kite festival. It’s the place where sometimes we would go and ride our bikes because it was a safe place to do so. 

So I grew up with Juneteenth in that way, but I think it has taken on a whole other level of significance since 2020, with the death of George Floyd and the uprisings that followed. It was so close to the annual celebration of Juneteenth that it was a moment of deep reflection. It was a deep reflection for this country. It was a deep reflection for many of us in Black communities, and I’d been working on criminal justice and police reform issues before George Floyd, but we saw lots of new people pay attention. The video really struck people in a way that sparked a national conversation and, quite frankly, also has played out in this national backlash.

I know people who planned Juneteenth events, who did them before it became a national holiday, who’ve started doing them since it’s become a national holiday. And one of the big challenges this year is everybody was sort of asking, “Is it still gonna be a national holiday?” We’ve seen so many executive orders fire people quickly, change things quickly. It wasn’t always clear to us whether or not Juneteenth would still be celebrated. 

And to be honest with you, I think not until we finish the day all the way out, will I be 100 percent sure that it’s going to be honored completely. But regardless of how it is conceived on a national scale, for those of us who celebrated the holiday before, we will continue to remember that Black people have a deep, long-standing connection to this land, both with a lot of pain attached to it and great joy.

CURWOOD: Talk to me about the connection between the African American community and that vast expanse of green in Franklin Park. It’s not just a little old park, it’s hundreds of acres in the middle of the city.

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: I grew up [with] so many different events in Franklin Park. To be honest with you, sometimes as a kid, you don’t understand how important, how beautiful something is, until you find out that some people don’t have the same thing. 

Franklin Park is 527 acres in the middle of a major city, and it is a place of respite. It is a place of joy. There’s a whole walking community there. It’s a place where people really have the ability to slow down. But there are so many festivals. The Puerto Rican festival, when I was growing up, was a whole week. The Caribbean festival ends there. There’s a zoo there. There are so many different activities, major things that mark our year and that are a source of celebration, like Juneteenth. I am so thankful for that resource. 

I was the chief of environment, energy and open space, and in that role, I got to oversee the city’s parks department, and I had the opportunity to spend a lot of time in Franklin Park, as I’d always done, but also to be a steward for Franklin Park. 

The other day, I was there running around the park—I’m preparing to do a half marathon—and I heard chainsaws going, and I said, “I wonder what’s happening?” Towards the end of my tenure, we were working to make sure that Franklin Park had a whole crew dedicated to it, and that there was more support and resources because it is 527 acres, and it needed to have its own support system. 

As I rounded the corner, I saw a group of young men cutting down a tree. Clearly the tree was dead. You could tell that it had seen better days, and they were the young people from PowerCorps. PowerCorps Boston was a program that I helped to start during my time at the city, and it’s a program that trains young folks from the surrounding neighborhoods around Franklin Park, Mattapan, Dorchester, Roxbury and also the neighborhood of East Boston. 

Those are areas where we recruit from the most, and they were part of our tree division that also was started under my tenure, where we moved it out of regular park maintenance and made our own tree division and hired young people that trained in the program. And it was just the joy of my day to finish my run seeing a group of young men from my neighborhood. 

One of them had just been promoted to become a foreperson, so he was moving up the ladder already. I actually was taken aside by one of the guys who runs that crew, and he said to me, because I remember when I first proposed it, he was a bit skeptical. He had seen people come in and have big ideas before, and he didn’t think it was going to come together. And he said to me, “Chief, it really is working, like these guys are great,” and he’s going to retire in two years. 

And so I’m really thankful for the important work that he’s done, but also that we are training a new generation of young people to care for that park. Young people who grew up around that park are in there, and they’ll be in there a couple of days before Juneteenth cleaning everything up and making sure that it’s ready for the people who come to revel there. I don’t know if there’s anything that’s brought me so much joy in the past couple of weeks. 

The administration cut the AmeriCorps program, which means that some of the positions that those young people came up through are at risk, but I felt the sincere joy that the investment that we made in those young people and in that natural space that has sustained so many people, that that will keep moving forward, regardless of what is happening. 

CURWOOD: In 2021, Congress passed a law that created Juneteenth as a national holiday. Joe Biden signed it. Any concerns that you might have about how Juneteenth may be regarded by America now in 2025?

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: I am grateful that Juneteenth became a national holiday. I hope that continues. I think it would be a backwards move for us to remove it. That being said, Juneteenth is a holiday that celebrates joy as an act of resistance. And we don’t need national legislation to keep that spirit alive. 

I think the spirit of Juneteenth is the reality that, as we say in the church, this joy that I have, the world didn’t give it, and the world can’t take it away. The federal government did not give us the resilience we have, and it cannot take it away. 

So I hope we don’t take it away, and instead we build on that legacy. But if there is a backlash, if we move backward, it won’t be the last time, unfortunately, and it certainly won’t be the first time that Black folks have seen that happen. We will continue to function in joy. We will continue to remember our ancestors. We will continue to gather.

“I think the spirit of Juneteenth is the reality that, as we say in the church, this joy that I have, the world didn’t give it, and the world can’t take it away. The federal government did not give us the resilience we have, and it cannot take it away.”

CURWOOD: You grew up in Roxbury, Massachusetts, at a time when it was a largely Black community. Tell me about the moment when you realized that your home was what some might call an environmental justice community.

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: I remember in the beginning of high school, I got engaged around issues of the ozone layer. And I remember thinking, oh my gosh, I can’t believe humans could cause that kind of damage to the planet. It was the first time that I knew that we could do better. I knew that we have done things to each other that are terrible, but it was the first time I recognized how our actions, or lack thereof, in some instances, was causing damage on a planetary scale. 

And so I got very involved. I went to a meeting of the environmental club at my school, and I remember that they were talking about polar bears and dolphins, which, you know, beautiful creatures, but this was in the ’90s, in the height of violence in the city of Boston, and I’m sitting here like, wait a second, how can you be deeply invested in saving creatures that you’ve never seen, but have no investment in the neighborhoods that were less than two miles from our school, where people were also really struggling? 

I couldn’t see myself in that space, and I sort of walked away. I continued to do some basic things like recycling, but I just decided that that wasn’t really a cause that I could engage with. 

I went to college in the Bay Area, and I was working at a tutoring program with young people, both because I loved working with young people and because I needed a job in order to cover my books. The young people in East Palo Alto were organizing because another cement plant was going to come to their community, and they already had quite a bit of pollution in their neighborhood. 

So I really got engaged, because the young people that I was tutoring were engaged, and then as I was listening to them, I was like, “Wait a second, some of the things y’all are talking about, that’s the same thing in my community”—we had a trash transfer station in our community. We had one of the largest public transportation bus terminals in our community, and that was releasing lots of air pollution. I knew tons of people who had asthma, including people in my family. 

So I’m starting to say, “OK, I’m here in solidarity with you as a college student at this, you know, privileged school, but everything that you’re talking about as I really think about it, that’s also the things I was experiencing in my own home neighborhood.” 

I came back to my neighborhood with a different sense of necessity to also organize around those things at home, that those things that I had grown up with were not OK. They were not natural. Unfortunately, it was a shared experience with many communities of color around the country, and we needed to do something to change it. 

During college and in the years afterwards, I got more engaged around environmental justice issues in my neighborhood, and I wish that the high school that I went to had been framing its environmental work around those same kind of issues, because we didn’t have to go to the North Pole in order to find environmental issues to work on. We really could have just gone down the street. 

But I’m thankful for that experience, and I’m thankful for the leadership of the young people in East Palo Alto that helped me see my own community in a different way.

CURWOOD: East Palo Alto sounds like a fancy address, but it is not.

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: No, it’s not. Well, it’s gentrifying these days, so it’s becoming fancier and fancier. But when I was in school at Stanford, there was this stark line. I would ride my bike down the road through Palo Alto—trees galore, beautifully manicured lawns and the houses weren’t even that big but they were extremely expensive. 

Then you would hit this overpass, over this stream some of the time and ditch some of the time; they have rainy season and dry season. The tree canopy could not have been more stark. It was just so obvious where Palo Alto ended and East Palo Alto began. 

Now, because of gentrification, there’s literally a Four Seasons around that neighborhood because they’re expanding into East Palo Alto, but I remember how clearly the visual inequities just slapped you in the face. And that continues to be true in that neighborhood and so many others. That is, unfortunately, the kind of thing in our country that we still need to be working hard to address.

CURWOOD: What’s missing for you from the environmental justice movement these days, and to what extent might faith and the faith community fill that gap? 

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: There has been a lot of work on good policy, and that is important. Obviously, I spent my time in City Hall focused on policy. 

We have some good policies that we can enact if we have the will to do so. We’ve got a will problem in this country; we’ve seen people be led to believe that we have to choose between environmental stewardship and human flourishing, and it’s absolutely not true. We can have both. In fact, the two can work really well together, but that is a heart issue. 

 “We have got to be better than we have been in the past, and definitely better than we are being right now.”

For me as a person of faith, what’s been funny is I’ve been surprised by how many scientists, businesspeople, atheists have said to me, we need more of the faith community to get involved. You would think that there would be a resistance in some quarters, but I haven’t experienced that. I think many people in the environmental movement recognize that, really, we’re in a struggle for our lives. It is partially about the planet—absolutely, the planet is being harmed. 

But the reality is that the planet has survived multiple times, has made a comeback throughout history multiple times. What is at risk is the possibility of human species being able to survive, as we have for generations in this world, that it could get a little too hot for us, that it could get to the point where we are flooded out of the places that mean something to us, where we lose our access to fresh water in communities that are facing very, very real drought challenges and a lack of fresh drinkable water. 

We are causing great damage to other species and biodiversity, and that is criminal. That being said, our ability to survive is also tied up in how we treat our non-human siblings, and it is a moment in which humanity really needs to become its best self. We have got to be better than we have been in the past, and definitely better than we are being right now. And that is spiritual work. So yes, we do need good policies. I loved crafting policy and working on it. But if humans do not embrace the call of this moment to choose our ecology over our economy as it is currently constructed, we will not get through this moment.

CURWOOD: Yet not all of society supports the call for climate and environmental justice.  

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: What we’re seeing right now in the backlash, in the sort of confusion and chaos of this moment, is that I think humanity is a little confused about if we can rise to this moment and how we do it. I think we have gotten scared that there’s not enough for all of us, and so that we have to choose some people over others. 

From my perspective, all of our faith traditions tell us that that is not the way that God calls us to be. And so I do think this is a moment in which the faith community really has to rise to the occasion to help us do some of the heart work and some of the spiritual work we need to do to face this moment—not with fear and not with scapegoating and not with a sense of scarcity—but to lean in with joy and abundance and deep, deep love and trust that if we choose a path that takes care of us all, we can and will survive. 

I’m not trying to pretend like there won’t be tough choices. There will be some tough choices. There are some things we have embraced that we’re going to have to leave behind. Once again, that’s some spiritual work to recognize that we can’t do things as we’ve been doing, that we need to change and we need to transform. But I actually think we could be better on the other side. 

“Sometimes, even in the environmental movement, we have over-emphasized the fearful things and under-emphasized the joyful possibilities that also are in front of us.”

Right now, everybody—some of the environmental advocates and the folks who are climate deniers—are framing this as though we are going to lean into a world that is so terrible and awful. I’m not saying there won’t be some level of sacrifice, but I see a possibility for deep joy. To stop trying to zip all around the world and work every last hour and burn the candle on both ends, but to actually slow down and to be together and to find joy in our kids running around and to make really good, healthy, yummy food together, and to restore communities in some beautiful ways, and turn off the TV and stop playing some of the video games. I’m not saying I’m against them all, but I’m saying the joy of being together in beautiful places and just enjoying each other’s company, that is part of the invitation of this moment. 

Sometimes, even in the environmental movement, we have over-emphasized the fearful things and under-emphasized the joyful possibilities that also are in front of us.

CURWOOD: I’ve noticed as a journalist looking at the matters of environmental justice, that when I go to a Black gathering, it frequently begins with a prayer, and when I go to a largely white gathering, I almost never hear a prayer. I don’t know if you’ve had a similar experience, because as a reverend, maybe you’re always asked to make a prayer. But what do you make of that phenomenon?

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: I think that it is true that in Black communities and Black cultural traditions, we do recognize that our spiritual foundations are a core part of who we are as a people. 

I want to be honest. There are complications to that. There are certainly Black folks of other spiritual traditions that are not Christian, that have been under-appreciated, and there are things we need to do to make space for a diversity of voices, but I do feel there is more recognition that we are more than just workers. 

We are more than just beings, you know, passing through. We come from a tradition that says, we are our ancestors’ wildest dreams, and we have a responsibility to the next generation, and that thinking aligns a lot with our Native American Indigenous siblings who come also from that tradition. 

This is part of what we brought with us from our time in the continent of Africa, and that we have not lost here in the Americas. And the truth is, our spiritual traditions have changed. Many of us were converted to Christianity, but we created a Christianity that did not lose our deep connection to the land and our sense that God was with us, has been with us, from the beginning. And so, yeah, I think there is much more openness and sense of connection in Black communities. 

Where many of us have been trying to do work is to do some re-establishing of our deep connection to the land, because I think that through the Great Migration and because of the legacy of slavery, there were also ways in which people said, “I don’t want to be farming anymore.” Sometimes they saw that connection to the land as a source of oppression. 

So many of us have moved to cities, and we’ve become urban folk and lost some of our connection to the land, but that has always been a deep part of our spirituality, even before we came to the United States, even before many of us were Christians. There is so much possibility to expand our spiritual centers to also include a deep connection to the land, to restore our deep connection to the land. 

I would say there’s a lot more openness to spirituality in Black communities, sometimes than there are in white communities, particularly white northern communities. I’d say there’s maybe a little bit more openness in the South and the Midwest, but on the coasts, especially the north side of those of the coasts, there’s some work to be done to reignite those spiritual traditions.

CURWOOD: Talk to me about some ways that you’ve seen your own faith community, or others around the country, live their faith to protect both people and the environment.

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: I just feel so blessed because I’ve been doing this work. People invite me to come see things. People send me notes, and so it constantly fills my heart with joy, and I think we need to do more. 

I’m grateful to be here, and grateful for the work you do to spread the good news, because people need the good news. There are good things happening. 

I think of what I teach in my church and in some of the ministries that I have helped to build, and when I meet with other people who are looking at building faith-based creation ministries, we look at four pillars, the first being eco-theology. 

There is so much beauty in our texts that celebrate the natural world, the relationship between humans and non-human beings. Sometimes we’ve under-emphasized those things, but they’re all over the text. A lot of our work is, how do we reignite that sense of joy and wonder and connection that’s there? I try to bring that into the way I preach. 

I’m invited to preach in other places, and I’ll do trainings for other preachers who are trying to bring more eco-theology into their practice. It’s not hard. You just open your Scriptures and there you go—it’s there. But we’ve got to exercise that muscle. And also, in the music that we choose, there’s some great music that is out there. 

CURWOOD: Give me an example of the music you’re talking about.

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: One of my favorite songs is So Will I. It talks about God being present at the beginning of time, the relationship between the challenges in our natural world and the death of Christ and the restoration of all of it. When I think of it, I remember we had an Easter sunrise service, and the sun’s coming up, and this song is playing, and it just filled me with wonder.

Just this notion of God speaking into existence the planet and the stars, and the fact that at the end of all that, God created us to be in relationship. To see that on Easter morning as the sun was rising over Carson Beach, which is not very far from my house, it just felt overwhelming in the most beautiful way. 

I think we need to do more of that. We need to help ourselves ground in where we are in the awesome miracle that is our creation and the fact that it keeps surviving in the midst of all of the damage that we’re doing. 

In our congregation, New Roots, in July and August, we do New Roots in Nature—we do church outside. We find a good place. And every once in a while, we have these, like, funny moments where I was in the middle of preaching a service, and this wind gust comes and it blew my sermon away. And I was like, it’s all good. We’re going to just be fully in this moment. We have church sometimes at a community garden where the folks over there gave us a key and said, “You can have church here whenever you want to.”

“We need to help ourselves ground in where we are in the awesome miracle that is our creation and the fact that it keeps surviving in the midst of all of the damage that we’re doing.”

This work of both sharing the teaching from our texts, but then also helping people to build real connections with the land, to be really grateful for the food we eat, and to know that it comes in this beautiful symbiotic relationship between us as human cultivators and the land as nurturers, like the fact that we work together to create the things that sustain us, the opportunity to be alongside the water, we need to not just talk about it within our congregations, but take people physically to those places, allow them to make those connections. 

The third pillar is that we then have to say, what does it mean to be better stewards? How do we think about the kind of work we need to do to, for instance, install solar panels? We installed solar panels on my parents’ church. I am really excited that there’s a group of AME churches organizing in Georgia to put solar panels on the roofs of their churches so that it will also reduce the bills of those churches. 

But those churches can also be resilience hubs in the midst of increasing natural disasters. They would be able to produce their own energy, so if members of the congregation experience power loss, they’d be able to go to the church as a safe haven and as a place to get information and protect themselves, and organize themselves.

The final calling for us is also to be engaging around policy. How can we talk about what it means for us to be faithful, not just as communities of faith, but also as citizens? How do we hold our elected leaders accountable at every level, the municipal level and our state level and our federal level, to embracing the kinds of policies that make it easier? 

Sometimes people don’t install solar panels because they can’t afford to, and we need to create the kinds of programs that I know folks are fighting to keep alive right now, the kinds of programs that said those folks who have sustained a lot of damage from polluting power plants should be at the front of the line for the kinds of new energy technologies that will reduce pollution in their neighborhoods. 

These are the kinds of policies that allow us to live at a larger scale, those things that we try to do in our congregations and in our communities. 

But there are roles for people of faith all along, from the songs that we sing to the places that we go, to the technologies and practices that we embrace, to the policies that we promote. 

At every level, we should be setting [an] example, drawing from the teachings of our faith.

CURWOOD: Let’s look at faith and policy for a moment. You’re a minister, and then you come to work for the city of Boston as their environmental officer. How did your faith inform your work? Not the details, but how did it affect your mindset as you went into this?

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: When you work for the city, you work for the mayor. I was glad to work for both mayors that I worked under. 

I also operate from the fact that I always work for someone higher than the mayor. And I think that in government, sometimes we can be thinking about the next election, and that could mean that we aren’t actually thinking as creatively long-term. Sometimes we’re thinking we could prioritize some constituencies because of the earthly power that they have, rather than thinking about who we are called to center. 

As a person of faith, I try to think long-term, try to think about what are the impacts that this policy will have, not on the next election, but on the next generation, and how do I center that? 

I also said that I need to live a life of integrity, not just in the big things, but also in the small things. You could write a grant in such a way that was more favorable to you, but it feels like you might be fudging the numbers a little. I can’t do that. And so I said to people, we need to have integrity. We need to be the same people that show up, no matter what it is, no matter whether it’s in a grant or what we’re saying to a constituency, there is a level of integrity we have to bring to how we move and how we function. 

Finally, my tradition teaches me that we center those who are most vulnerable. And so I had to ask, can we create a policy that is not just good for the future but also repairs some of the harm that’s been created—and often most created in my community—and I was really thankful, for instance, to be thinking about, how do we build a tree division and plant trees in the city in a way that takes into account what neighborhoods have been overlooked in the past, what neighborhoods we know to be the hottest, what neighborhoods we know have lots of folks who do not have air conditioning? That tree canopy that we create, the shade that it produces, could be literally lifesaving for that community. 

That is what my faith teaches me about how I should move, and I tried to bring that into government. I didn’t always talk about my faith all the time. I believe in the separation between church and state, but I would have moments where we would hit up against something that was challenging, and I was like, I don’t know the answer. And I would say to my team, “OK, I’m going to put that on my prayer list. And we’ll come back to that.” Because if you don’t have the answer right away, you don’t want to make a snap decision. You want to be thoughtful. 

It got to the point where my team would say, “Oh, you need to put that on your prayer list.” Because sometimes there would be things like HR challenges, or we had an instance where someone was suing us, where I would say, “Gosh, we’ve reached a point where I’m not sure that the tools of government can totally answer this.” In a couple of instances, I did put it on my prayer list and new possibilities opened. So even though none of my staff ever came to church with me or anything like that, I hope that I also lived as a testament to the fact that there may be a power beyond human ingenuity.

CURWOOD: Progress for African Americans has often been led by people of faith. The environmental justice movement, for example, begins in North Carolina with the work of the Rev. Benjamin Chavis. He was an acolyte of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who obviously moved the Civil Rights Movement forward. As an African Methodist Episcopal Church minister, how do you see your role as a person of faith, moving Black America—and indeed all of America—forward now to deal with the environmental and climate challenges we face?

REV. WHITE-HAMMOND: When I talk about my work, I frame it from the perspective of ecological justice. “Eco” means home, and ecology as a tradition is the study of home, but it really looks at the relationship between species. 

Many, many disciplines break things down to the cellular level, or look at individual species and only pay attention to the other, the things that’s in relationship with, you know, in a cursory way. But ecology looks at ecosystems. It looks at relationships. It says you can’t understand this frog unless you understand the pond that it’s in, and the pond is related to the tree, and the tree is impacted by the bird that’s in there and the human that walks by, and all of these things are in relationship. 

When something goes wrong, it’s actually not because any one of those pieces necessarily just went wrong. It’s because the web of relationships has been disturbed. 

I think the same is true in this moment. I don’t actually see the environmental work as separate from the conversation I’m also part of in terms of criminal justice. I don’t see it separate from the conversation around immigration and who has the right to be here. I don’t see it separately from each of these things, because all of this is about how we choose to be in relationship as human beings to each other and with our non-human siblings, because we need each other. We literally need each other to survive. … I actually believe that that is true on a planetary level, that we actually need each other to survive, and that the work we’re doing right now is about climate change. 

We are on a deadline, but that deadline is not just about parts per million in the atmosphere. It is about recognizing that we need each other to survive, and asking about how we shift the way we are using the abundant resources that have been provided to us differently, so that not just we can survive, but that future generations can survive. 

As a faith leader, I love getting in the weeds. I can talk about solar policy and all of those things, but I think my first job is to remind us that we have a responsibility to each other and to all of the creatures with whom we’re in relationship to do better, to be better. 

“We are on a deadline, but that deadline is not just about parts per million in the atmosphere. It is about recognizing that we need each other to survive.”

We’re in a moment where humanity is being called to be better. And we’re freaking out about that. We’re having a really tough time. We are showing all of our childishness in this particular moment. 

I also believe that a better world is possible, that we can be better to each other. I think we really do want to.

We’re not sure we trust each other, but I think if more of us can start demonstrating what is possible, I think others will join. Others will align. We want to be better. On our best days, we want to be better. We know there’s something better inside of us. 

We need to get started manifesting that right now, because we are on a deadline. The climate crisis is real and it’s happening right now, but I don’t believe it is too late for us to be our best selves. I have hope, even when a lot of the data does not bear out. 

Actually, I think that’s part of what Juneteenth is about. It’s about continuing to have hope, continuing to lean in, even in the face of brutality, even in the face of oppression, even when you have been done very wrong, you do not allow it to crush your spirit. 

That is what I celebrate over Juneteenth, and that is what I hope for all of humanity. 

I do believe that Black Americans can have a unique role in calling the rest of our fellow Americans and the rest of our world, because slavery could have destroyed us and it didn’t. Out of it, we’ve created a faith tradition that is beautiful. Out of it, we’ve created music that is transcendent. Out of it, we have created community and senses of family that cannot be destroyed. 

And I’m not pretending that we haven’t struggled. We absolutely have. There are very real scars. We have been broken, but we are not destroyed. And so, too, I believe that is possible for all of humanity.