The one where a Lutheran agrees with the Pope

Recently, I've been in conversation with a local organizer from NextGen Climate who is rallying support from faith leaders in Yolo County for SB 350. I wrote this letter to the editor in response to Pope Francis' recent encyclical. 
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As a Lutheran, I don’t often agree with the pope. After reading Laudato Si, Pope Francis’ recent encyclical on climate change, however, I must. 

For too long in the United States, religious rhetoric surrounding the environment has been denial of climate science and ignorant arrogance with regard to its catastrophic effects on the poor and vulnerable. This must change.

For people of faith like Pope Francis and myself, there is a moral imperative to reduce and reverse the effects of climate change. Since we understand ourselves to be connected to all of creation, we are called to protect and preserve it. Pope Francis reminds us that our Scriptures, “bear witness to a conviction which we today share, that everything is interconnected, and that genuine care for our own lives and our relationships with nature is inseparable from fraternity, justice, and faithfulness to others” [2.II.70]. 

The saying goes that as goes California, so goes the nation. It is my hope that California will pass legislation including SB 350, which will reinforce our role as a leader in the fight against climate change. SB 350 calls for a 50% reduction in emissions, a 50% increase in energy efficiency in buildings, and that 50% of California’s power come from renewable sources, all by 2030. 

We have the power to make substantive changes—we must. Join me in prayer for our planet and its leaders, and in telling California’s leaders to vote yes on SB 350 and other protections for our world and its inhabitants.

Casey Kloehn, M.Div

Program Director, Lutheran Episcopal Volunteer Network

Documented

So this weekend I had more free time than usual (I think I'm finally like not actively "moving" anymore!) and it's spring break here at the university so our workweek is a bit lighter, and so of course I spent it on my couch. I did also ride my bike all over town (to work! Like a real Davis resident!) so technically I just spent like...a lot of time on my couch.

Fortunately, the focus on my passion planner this week is "L E A R N" and my to-do list includes "use that brain for excellence, girl" and so the time on my couch was only like 1% March Madness, #OnWisconsin. I dug into the long list of documentaries that have been piling up on my Netflix queue. [PS! Somewhere along the line they changed it to say "My List" instead of "Queue" and I find that to be very uninteresting.]

I started almost embarrassingly with two films that I should have watched a few years ago when they were new but have somehow just never gotten around to because I am terrible. But now I am less terrible because I have viewed and loved them and learned from them!


This was so fascinating. It features impressive women from multiple generations of feminism and leadership in media, politics, and education. It discouraged me--tragic statistics about young girls, in particular--but encouraged me, as I think about what I am capable of and what we are capable of. Watch it.

The Invisible War

This made me weep. It is absolutely deserving of its Academy Award nomination. The infamy of sexual assault in the US military has been front and center for a while now; I'm hopeful that we will not continue to let our veterans down. Watch it.

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I had on my queue the famous miniseries documentary Half the Sky, and I watched about a half hour of it before I started to feel...icky. It has a lot of red flag "white savior" things going on. I read Nick Kristof's columns, usually, and I think that he and Cheryl WuDunn (his wife and colleague) do excellent work to raise awareness and bring human trafficking to the global stage. And so I want them to keep working, because I want women to be liberated around the world. But I don't want the Western world to believe that homogenized brown women are liberated by white men. I've been told to read this book (by great white women I love) a number of times, and have just always felt...icky. If you don't know anything about human trafficking, watch this. If you want to learn more, find sources written/produced/headquartered outside the white, Western world. And then share those with me.

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Werner Herzog is weird, and I have a weird fascination with media about prison/crime (my favorite book is Truman Capote's In Cold Blood) and so I saw this on a "best docs on netflix" list sometime ago and grabbed it. It was weird. It's the story of two men who were convicted of murder--one sentenced to death, one to life imprisonment. Herzog talks to their families, mostly, and there are these silences and staring...it's haunting and it feels very real. Maybe don't watch it.

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Makers: Women Who Make America

This was a three-part PBS miniseries documentary situation, and I watched all three back-to-back because it's CRAZMAZING (as the great April Ludgate-Dwyer might say). I learned so much about the history of feminism in the United States, for better and for worse. There's so much more to learn (my favorite thing to learn!) and I am scouring the universe for more rad women's stories. I think this documentary is reasonably self-aware about its limitations as far as inclusion of women of color, gay women, transwomen, etc., as it moves through how the movement itself addressed the wide variety of American women. We can always do better. So many of my heroes are on film here (HRC, Sanda Day O'Connor, RBG, Gloria Steinem) and so many women whose legacy I didn't even know I was made of. Watch 'em all.

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This blog doesn't have a whole lot of "engagement" going on, but I am all about the crowd-source, so,  let me know what great documentaries you've been watching--or books you've been reading, let's be real--about subjects that bring you to life. 

I am tired, I am weak, I am worn.

Just got home from seeing Selma.

Lord, have mercy.

I can't stop thinking about the babies. Those little girls, just talking about getting their hair wet at their baptisms and—BOOM—silenced. How senseless. How disgusting. How terrorizing, inhuman.

Adults who marched—to their deaths, for some—had, at the very least, consented to demonstrate, consented to stand up and defy injustice and risk their lives for freedom. But those babies. Those precious girls. It won't leave my head.

At one point, Dr. King phoned Mahalia Jackson and she sang to him, late at night:

Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn.
Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light
Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me on.

 I wept. I sang, silently, along. What else can I say? What else can I do? Take my hand, precious Lord.

I resonated so deeply with every gospel call in the film. Of course I did. That's why they said those things. That's why we say those things. We quote our scriptures and sing our hymns to remind ourselves that we are not alone. We are not the first to seek the comfort and encouragement of God, and we will not be the last.

I cannot say, like was said to Corretta, that I come from a legacy of courageous black folks who survived and pushed forward—and were beaten and murdered—to prepare the way for me. But even as a white pastor, I do come—quite directly—from a legacy of courageous white folks who heard Dr. King's cry and stood by his side to march—from Selma to Montgomery, in fact—to seek the same justice for their friends and neighbors.

The two pastors who raised me were—and are—tireless advocates for racial equality in the United States. They taught me to use the power and privilege I have to defend and promote the gospel—and with it, every child of God.

For Pastor Bill, Pastor Ray, Dr. King, and all who share the faith, I proclaim the Gospel of liberation, equality, love, and justice.

That is my call. That is my vocation. That is my challenge. That is my job. Thanks be to God.