Carbon Sabbath

Florida– your easy winters defy the American notions of seasons. But that ease won’t last forever. In the coming years, your beachfronts and watersides will be reshaped by rising sea levels. Your roads and developments will require dramatic restructuring. As loving neighbors, will we prepare for these changes in a way that will minimize suffering, or will we only hear the cries when it is too late to diminish them?

Greetings from Jacksonville, compadres! It has been an active week here. In true Florida fashion, there were CarbonSabbath talks at a retirement community, in a Spanish-speaking service, one in shorts, and even a visit to the beach. In all of those visits, the reality of climate change seemed to hit home in a way that was very concrete. For many participants, the estimated sea level rise will directly affect their property or those of their neighbors. For them, love of neighbor in the face of climate change is about their actual, physical neighbors. This reality heightened the importance of our discussions and brought a depth of concern that is not always apparent in the groups I visit.

Special thanks to Beth Tjoflat for being such an incredible host and booking agent during my time in Jacksonville! The instant when Beth heard about the Carbon Sabbath back in one of our preaching classes at YDS, she extended an enthusiastic invitation for me to come down to Jacksonville. True to her word, Beth maintained contact and made sure that I made my way to town and felt very comfortable during my stay. Thanks again, Beth!

During my visit to the Glenmoor Retirement Community, I had some engaging conversation with very friendly folks there. Of course, I forgot to take a picture. Thanks to all of the folks there for having me join you in your service and for our conversation over lunch!

Gracias a mis amig@s de St. Francis por aceptar este viajero!

Thanks to all the good folks at Episcopal School of Jacksonville for welcoming me! Special thanks to Hopie Jernagan and Kevin Day. Looking forward to hearing how your class' CarbonSabbath goes, Mr. Day!

On my way down to Jacksonville, I stopped off at Cumberland Island for a few days of solitude in pristine island wilderness. This island is a national treasure. There are wild horses, beaches full of beautiful shells, mossy trees filled with startling variety of birds, and deep quiet. If you ever have the chance to visit, I highly recommend it.

Wild horse in mossy trees.

Thanks to Bill and Gayle Carpenter for your hospitality, conversation, and shared time during my stay at St. Simons, GA!

Today, I start my journey westward! Thanks to all of you for sharing the journey thus far!

Until we meet again

More aware of the water’s rise

Than we thought possible

Savannah

Today, everything changes. You look in the mirror tonight, and tomorrow, you will see a different person– someone who has heard the the voice of highest truth whispering to remind you of the incredible person you are. You listen, and you settle your bones firmly upon the earth to tread the path before you with refreshed vigor. Like the ethereal ideals lifting your sight upward, you are remade– born from above, as the famous passage from John’s gospel that gives us the cultural “born again” is translated literally. You are new in a way that is above the old. Born from above.

OK– everything doesn’t change with the calendar. But it is worthwhile that this holiday reminds us of the newness around us always. It reminds us to examine ourselves. In that assessment, we can rediscover the things that matter to us most: our relationships, our talents, our health, the ground of our being.

In this time of redirection and renewal, how does our knowledge of climate change affect who we are? How does it affect our responsibilities to our neighbors? Now that our ears are open, can we hear the pain of those already suffering from climate change?

The work ahead of us is not easy, but today, we are new. We have new strength. We have new vision. We have fresh hearts and capable hands. Let’s put them to work.

As you might have guessed from the picture above, I spent the day at the beach on Tybee Island. The water was too cold for most, but it was a rare treat for this cross country cycling surfer. The little waves were just big enough to bodysurf. I find that water has the rare ability to renew my entire being. Baptism makes sense to me. Christian orthodoxy emphasizes the value of a single baptism. For me, water’s spiritual renewal is welcome an infinite number of times. It is less about atonement and more about being at one with the interconnected web of being in which we participate. If that takes a dip, a surf, bread and wine, service, silence, or a good song to renew in us, then I say dive in! You’re going to need it.

Until we meet again

More renewed in body, soul, and mind

Than we thought possible

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

However deserved the canine moniker of humanity’s best buddy might be, there is no question that dogs and bikes do not mix. Something about cyclists drives dogs nuts. My suspicion is that there is some high frequency sound that comes from bikes which is near the register of dog whistles. This would explain why dogs will appear from behind a house to chase a seemingly silent bike while cars pass by unrecognized. How should you respond when one of these angry beasts attacks, you ask? Here are a few tips.

FOR HUMANS ABOUT DOGS:

The first thing that you need to know is that most dogs will stop attacking you once you pass a certain point that they associate with the boundary of their property. You can observe this most notably in the video below. Note that the boundary can be very large, as you can see in the video above.

Occasionally, a dog will seriously threaten you. Many cyclists will tell you to carry pepper spray for such occasions–particularly when cycling through Kentucky, which has the reputation for the dogs most aversed to bikes. I picked some up in Ohio after a golden retriever nipped at my shoe. I keep the spray handy, but I have never used it. In fact, I doubt I ever will.

My approach is the following: talk calmly to the dogs; never yell at them; keep your pace if the dog is behind you; if the dog is in front of you or beside you, slow down and speak to it as calmly as possible. If you follow those tips, it is likely you won’t have a problem with a dog. A few might make you check your shorts, but it is unlikely they will bite you. Oh– and it is comforting to know that my rabies vaccine is up to date.

The regional phenomenon of attack dogs is significant. Out West, you will probably never have trouble with dogs. The angry dog phenomenon is almost exclusively from Appalachia eastward. East of the Mississippi is a better though more vague assessment. Always good to keep your eyes and ears attentive to dogs wherever and whenever you are on a bike.

TO DOGS ABOUT BIKES:

When you hear the metal dragon drawing near, make haste! Do not waste time barking; it will only slow you down. It doesn’t matter how big you are. To catch this evil beast, you will have to give it your all. Do not tarry with the spinning legs. Go for the creature’s fleshy middle. You are a fast dog. Believe it, and the metal dragon is yours.

(If you have never read Dave Eggers’ story “After I Was Thrown Into the River and Before I Drowned,” stop what you are doing and read it now.)

This past week, I returned to the road by cycling from Atlanta to Savannah. It feels incredible to be back on the bike. Because of the other thematic posts this week, I will keep the words in this general review to a minimum. Most of the tails appear below the pictures. Happy New Year, everyone!

Extra special thanks to my dad Roy Claassen and my stepmother Jeanie for their support and tolerance during my extended holiday stay at their home north of Atlanta! Thanks also to sister Ashley! We all had many rounds of backgammon, dominoes, and general merriment. Thanks for the great service you provided in downtown Atlanta on a rainy Christmas afternoon. Great work!

I got to cycle several great red dirt roads on my way to Savannah. They were very restorative. After several weeks back in the news cycle and tensions of everyday American life, I found that I was very much in need of my return to sabbath. The red dirt went a long way in helping restore that peace.

Southern snow.

After a restful night sleeping in a grove of pine trees waving in the wind, I awoke to find that my cell phone-- which doubles as my map-- was out of battery. I was in the middle of nowhere-- 6 miles down a dirt road that turned off another tiny road. Without my electronic map, I was lost. The winter sun was not strong enough for my solar charger. I ended up knocking on the door of a nearby dairy farmhouse. The folks were extraordinarily friendly, which was aided by their Mennonite favor of my last name. They fed me, recharged the phone, and showed me all around their farm and swamp. Thank you all so much!

To give you an idea of the difficulty of following my "maps" directions, try to find the path that leads straight into the woods in the right half of this photo.

In my approach to Savannah, I experienced some extraordinary bad luck. The first sign of this was a nail that passed entirely through my rear tire.

The next stroke of bad luck was the death of my trusty Tacoma Papoose guitar. This guitar has been a close friend for a decade. We first traveled together in East Africa on my NOLS course, during which I wrote some of my best songs including "Athena from Far" on this guitar. Later, we traveled throughout South America and several other locales. It was a shocking and sudden loss. I was walking to spend a few hours playing guitar in Savannah's sqaures. All of a sudden, the strap of the case carrying the guitar broke, and it fell to its death. As you can see, it split in four different ways: top, back, and the sides in two directions. It was irreparable. When I returned to my hotel room, I learned that my Kindle had died at the same time back in the room. That one, I cannot explain, but it is true. That same day, I got a flat tire 8 miles away from my tools and suffered several other oddities of luck. Adios papoose!

The papoose now rests in one of Savannah's historic cemeteries beside a friendly oak. It has become the subject of much gossip, awe, and photograpy, which I have witnessed as I passed by heartbroken. The visitors' excitement eased my pain a bit.

Following the death of the Papoose, I met this new friend and invited him along on the trip. His name is Diego Luna, after the brand name, my Spanish class nickname, and the actor of such classics as Y Tu Mama Tambien. It is a new day on the Carbon Sabbath.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!

Today, we celebrate love of God made known. We celebrate the physical reality of that love as inseparate from our physical being on this world. We recognize that divine love acting in the creation and evolution of all life. God is not distant or apart from us. Immanuel—the Biblical Hebrew meaning “God (El) with (im) us (anu).” The word’s simplicity and truth surpass our comprehension. Our songs try another angle, such as, “Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing” from “O Come All Ye Faithful.” But we do not readily accept the bodily appearance of the process through which we are created. We reject the most vulnerable expression of divine affection as symbolized in a poor infant born among beasts of burden. The metaphorical value is as charged as the incarnate reality. Although God’s love could not be less threatening, we refuse to accept it. Still, that light shines. This is cause for celebration!—constant, year-round, tireless participation in the process that creates life. This is the gift we can accept if we are so inclined.

Whatever darkness surrounds us—be it the impalpable pulse of distraction or the blanket of mystical shadow, we do not face the darkness before us alone. Likewise, we are not isolated in our responses to climate change. The love that creates all things compels us to sympathy and action. Today, perhaps the action we need most is rest or restraint. Here’s to our giving and receiving of rest!

Until we met again

More joyfully restraining

Than we thought possible.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

There is a curse associated with Chinese wisdom that states, “May you live in interesting times.” Of late, it seems that we are beginning to understand the power of this malediction. The proposed Keystone XL pipeline, which would pass through many Carbon Sabbath readers’ properties, has been juggled by politicians of all parties and monstrously affixed to a payroll tax. Meanwhile, there was next to no domestic coverage on the UN Climate Conference in Durban. At the same time, many of you read about Carbon Sabbath compadre John Helmiere’s experience of police brutality (see: http://valleyandmountain.org/what-we-do/creative-liberation/johns-response-to-police-brutality/ to read his stirring narrative and compelling response). The interest of these times is heavy, and we are tempted to bear its nagging weight rather than the light yoke of love we have before us always.

Speaking of light, I had the fortune of meeting up with my old friend Alison Amyx. Alison and I met while interning in the Bay Area as part of fellowships offered by the Beatitudes Society (http://www.beatitudessociety.org/). Alison now works for an organization called Georgia Interfaith Power and Light, which is part of the greater Regeneration Project. GIPL, as it is affectionately called, works to provide means for faith communities to become more aware of their energy use and general environmental impact. While this can have a profound effect on the spiritual well-being of constituents, it also speaks to one of the areas closest to the organizational heart: the pocketbook. Through GIPL’s Power Wise energy audit, churches learn how to lower their budget while also becoming more sustainable in a multitude of ways. See below for videos from churches and synagogues who have participated.

With Alison at Georgia Interfaith Power and Light.

GIPL also has a program called Dirt Wise that can help congregations and individuals develop community gardens. See: http://gipl.org/Content/Dirt_Wise.asp

Another testament to the light that I’ve come across in the past few weeks is the Open Door Community. The Open Door is a model Christian community in the Catholic Worker tradition. It requires a herculean effort to recount even the basics of the great work going on at the Open Door. It is notable that they work closely with folks on Georgia’s death row, as is apparent from the posters you see around the house that state “We are Troy Davis.” While I was there, we worked on Christmas care packages for the inmates. Suffice it to say that the Open Door is a bright light shining in the darkness.

Murphy Davis signs Thaddeus on behalf of the Open Door.

A community garden in the heart of Atlanta.

On Monday, I’ll set out again on the road toward Savannah and Jacksonville. As I leave, our interesting times are not the only thing on my mind. Some claim that the curse is actually a three-part statement. One of the other “curses” says, “May you find what you are looking for.” This begs the question: what are we looking for? It is this question that determines the efficacy of the curse. If we look for sources of political tension and strife, we will surely find it. If we seek out distraction and mindless living, they will be ours. However, if we look for mindful living and the hope that comes from the source of life, I suspect the curse will be a blessing. Ask, and we shall receive. Seek, and we will find. The process will most certainly be different from what we expect. Like a would-be Messiah baby born in a barn, there is hope in the difference that exceeds our expectations.

Until we meet again

More willing to love at all times

Than we thought possible

Thank you to Carolyn and Walter Gilbert for hosting me after my visit to a group at Johnson Ferry Baptist Church!

Cycling in the Southern winter with my dad.

A little family outing on bikes!

The sweet Southern sun keeps thoughts of winter at bay. The fingertips of frost brush the morning hours, but they fail to find a grip. Pine needles soften the ground and broaden the seasonal pallet just enough to keep the day friendly. All signs point to one momentarily flashing word: temperate.

Grace-Calvary Episcopal Church in Clarkesville, GA.

This is the final vision recorded by my trusty Canon S95 camera. Northern Georgia was hit by a few days of heavy, cold rain last week. I arrived in Clarkesville soaking wet and promplty took cover for some lunch. Before I ate, I took a peak in the church to confirm the description from Barbara Taylor's book (Leaving Church). Because I was wet, I knelt in the doorway to pray rather than going inside. While deep in prayer, I felt a strong pressing at my stomach. Later, when I went to take a picture, the camera that was in my coat pocket no longer turned on. Thank you, trusty camera, for all of the fine images you've passed along to us over the past 6 months!

Last week, I had the pleasure of visiting Barbara Brown Taylor and her husband Ed at their home near Clarkesville, GA. While I espouse the sacredness of all places, I recognize that certain locations tend to make me more aware of the divine presence. Celtic mystics called these spots “thin places,” which refers to the notion that the veil between humanity and the divine is particularly diaphanous in some areas. The Thad’s community uses the antithetical language of “living thick” in reference to the abundance of spirit in the God-love life. Any way you slice it, there is something sacred to the land on which the Taylors live. It bears a history of holiness that stretches from centuries of Cherokee reverence to more recent celebrations of the sundance, sweatlodges, and a variety of other formal religious practices. While walking along the various ridges, streams and knolls of the property, the history of land use from logging to apple orchard to pasture is just close enough to be noticeable but shrouded such to pique curiosity.

With many of the people I encounter, I focus my energy on dialogue with the hope of gleaning wisdom through questions directed at perspective and practices. On the Taylor property, the verbal dialogue was secondary to the experience of the land. Just like an apprenticing musician sitting at the feet of a master player, I absorbed a great deal by sheer proxy. My bones were fed by fresh milk in thick glass jugs. My feet sank into the rich soil of their organic farm. My hands melted snow flurries while collecting fresh greens; they felt the tickle of a horse’s mouth and the vibrant chill of the upper Chattahoochee. My eyes watched the sunrise sneak through a stormy morning for a vibrant greeting on the trees. But the real feast was for the ears: long, breathy silence. No planes. No cars. No voices—save those of migrating finches or hunting coyotes.

For a few interesting words on the role of silence in our lives and in film, check out: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/07/opinion/dowd-silence-is-golden.html?_r=2&smid=fb-nytimes&WT.mc_id=OP-E-FB-SM-LIN-SIG-120711-NYT-NA&WT.mc_ev=click

I had the pleasure of absorbing all of these things for a few days last week. When I mentioned that I was hoping to do a little writing before I headed down to Atlanta for the holidays, Ed set me up in an Airstream trailer in the woods on their property. He brought me fresh eggs, a cast iron pan, and a few other groceries to make the time even more idyllic. Although the days passed quickly, my connection to the place was so profound that I can easily return there in my mind. Call it thick or thin, that setting has a comforting spot in my memory that I will surely visit for some time to come.

These two animal figures-- newt and salmon-- are examples of Ed Taylor's stone work. He studied the traditional Cherokee skills of stone selection and carving.

Thanks to Ed and Barbara Taylor for sharing your time, thoughts, and property!

Ed helped me fix my guitar, which had suffered some serious cracking while rambling across the country. Thanks to Ed for his extraordinary kindness throughout my visit!

Thanks to Bob and Sherry Frame for hosting me near Toccoa, GA!

Now, I’m safely settled in the suburbs of Atlanta. I plan on being mostly stationary here through Christmas. I am trying to let my mind cool and muscles soften after a prolonged period of exertion. Sometimes, we need to rest from even our Sabbaths—to regain perspectives that compliment and inform our experiences. As a culture, that contrast might be the shift from passive frenzy to active stillness. I, for one, hope to strengthen my atrophic stillness—starting now.

Until we meet again

More actively still

Than we thought possible

When exactly does Thanksgiving end? How long is this period? Is it one Thursday, a weekend, or a season? Of the ingredients that are essential to the holiday, where does gratitude rank for you? As we resume the lives paused by gratitude, how have we participated in that endless feast?

Special thanks to the Barr Family for openning their home to me over this holiday!

While no religious tradition should lay claim to a holiday that also celebrates religious plurality and freedom to worship, Thanksgiving can remind Christians of key tenets of their faith. In fact, Thanksgiving might be the most Christ-like holiday celebrated in the United States. In fairly universal practice, Americans take a break from the business week to gather together for a meal with friends and family. Ostensibly, we do this in gratitude that celebrates the blessings that are both beyond us and the product of our labor. In theory, we do this in memory of a historic occasion in which a small group that symbolizes our nation was vulnerable and at the mercy of others.

I find it admirable that one of our most important holidays celebrates this fragility. Rather than gathering together to celebrate our victories and accomplishments, we all take several days off in honor of a moment when our fragility and gratitude were our greatest assets. In popular culture, we tend to forget the importance of fragility in the Christian tradition, but it plays a prominent role. Jesus—the divine incarnate—appears to the world as an infant born in the equivalent of a garage or barn. After a life of teaching about love, he was killed by those of his own religious heritage working in cahoots with the occupying authorities. Early Christian imagery depicted Jesus most commonly as the lamb. This depiction was in direct conflict with symbols of power and authority such as the Roman army. Imagine the most powerful military on the planet lined up to attack a lamb. This is the power of fragility present in the Christian tradition. In the Thanksgiving narrative, we are reminded of both our strength in fragility and our weakness in destroying the Native cultures that helped us when we were in need.

In the face of climate change, many Christians feel a sense of helplessness or fragility. What can one person do against such a huge problem? Is it too late for us to do anything meaningful? How do little churches help the suffering of millions we are beginning to see? These are powerful questions, and they can be overwhelming. I have found that their enormous power is stripped when we respond in the most loving way we can to help specific people. By focusing on the love of specific neighbors affected by the changes and on our contributions as communities, the grandeur of this climate crisis diminishes. As Christians, we look for hope in hopeless scenarios, and we remember that love that conquers all. By living into that love, we participate in the process that can overcome our fear and failures.

Thanks to Leonora Tisdale and her housemates for opening their wooded home in Durham to me! Thanks also to Nora Tubbs Tisdale for making that connection happen!

Thanks to Thandiwe Gobledale for her incredible hospitality in Greensboro!

Thanks again to Cherice and David for being spiritual family! Howdy to those members our house church who keep up with this blog!

The road is full of surprises. I rode for an afternoon through the North Carolina piedmont with the director of the bicycle transportation for Charlotte, NC. Thanks to him and all of you who have crossed my path while cycling!

More surprises in Greenville, SC!

It is difficult to overstate the value of gratitude in the Christian tradition. In the gospels, Jesus gives thanks in just about everything he does. Even after weeping over the death of his friend Lazarus, he thanks God. In Christian liturgy, Jesus’ gratitude is most clearly reenacted in the celebration of communion—the holy feast that connects participants to the divine on multiple levels. From the Psalms to Israelites in the desert and the Holiness Code of Leviticus, gratitude is fundamental to Biblical narratives. Like our Thanksgiving, that gratitude is often centered around meals.

At present, we face the fruit of thankless action in which humanity has turned away from our gratitude for the gifts of creation, life, and the divine presence among us. It is time for the Christian community to turn that around. We do it for the sake of our neighbors. We do it for our love of God. But we also do it so that we might live into our blessings with mindful gratitude rather than ignorance.

While cycling each mile of the shifting landscape of our country, I am becoming more aware of our blessings. I know the wealth of our land. I am thankful for the kindness of each person who waves from a tractor, lawnmower, trampoline, rocking chair, motorcycle, car, truck, bicycle or tricycle. I thank all of you who have taken the time to participate in this Sabbath with me. I thank you who support me with food, money, shelter, prayer, and kind words. I thank those who oppose the trip for reminding me to love in all circumstances. I thank those willing to participate in hard conversations. And I thank God for the love that works through and in all things. My cup is overflowing, and, in the words of Randy Newman, “I think it’s going to rain today.” Thank you, rainy northern Georgia! Thank you all!

Until we meet again

More eternally grateful

Than we thought possible

As the ground flirts with the freeze, my wheels grind south. Down through Civil War footprints. Down along rolling country roads. Down through the pine groves to a land of soft vowels and sweeter tea. I come to take the winter slow and learn another pace.

Professor Ellen Davis with Thaddeus at Duke Divinity School.

This week, I had the opportunity to talk with Ellen Davis. Professor Davis is a renowned scholar of the Hebrew Bible who currently teaches at Duke Divinity School. Throughout her career, she has worked to enlighten discussion of contemporary issues by informed study of scripture. Her most recent book is Scripture, Culture, and Agriculture: An Agrarian Reading of the Bible (Cambridge University Press, 2009). In that text, she illustrates the connection between environmental management and faith as described by the Hebrew scriptures. In the process, she also tackles many issues that are at the heart of Christian responses to climate change.

Through her work as a scholar, Professor Davis practices a form of prophetic speech. That is, her astute exegesis informs what it means to be people of faith at a time of ecological crisis. Rather than turning to the latest technological innovations or getting caught up in fear, Ellen Davis seeks out the ancient wisdom of the Bible to consider how we can best live the sort of life that is mindful of God and our neighbors.

Her work is not merely theoretical; it is absolutely practical. Both in her book and our discussion, Professor Davis points to specific things that a community can do to become more sustainable. In particular, she suggests that Christian communities learn more about food—where it comes from, what it takes to grow, etc. She suggests that we should get used to paying more for quality food. She also suggests that communities can provide for their food needs and the needs of their neighbors by growing food or supporting small farms. These practices not only support farmers and promote the physical health of the people, but also help to improve the function of local ecosystem in a manner that benefits the planet as a whole.

Like very few people I have met, Professor Davis puts her money where her mouth is. Long ago, she chose to live without a car. That means that she has to plan her living arrangements according to her ability to get around on foot. This and other lifestyle choices have helped dictate her career decisions. In other words, her practices are not peripheral to her values or career.

Thanks to the folks at Virginia Theological Seminary for a great discussion and for making me feel welcome throughout my time there!

Rev. Dr. Roger Ferlo and Anne Harlan show a little taste of their wealth of experiences, knowledge and talents. After several days of conversation, I learned of their work with Desmond Tutu as shown in the picture. Of course, their experiences and kindness far exceed my ability to summarize in this format. I wil merely extend my immense gratitude for their hospitality and work. Thanks also to their daughter Liz Harlan-Ferlo for making their hospitality possible!

I had the chance to speak at and participate in the Ignatian Family Teach-In at Georgetown University. Here, Colman McCarthy spoke to the crowd on practicing peace.

This was one of the breakout sessions during the Teach-In. Thanks to everyone who participated there or at other events during the Teach-In!

Thanks to the crew from Duke Divinity's Creation Matters for a great discussion! Thanks also to the Bairds for hosting me and to Matt and Farley for making the night happen!

However unique the state of our current environmental crisis, Ellen Davis shows us the timeless nature of the Christian response. For her, exegesis inspires action. While Biblical scholarship is not a romantic expression of the prophetic voice, it is crucial. With our varying talents, skills, and experiences, we all have perspectives to lend that can help inform our collective understanding of what it means to be Christian in the face of climate change. What does your perspective have to lend to the greater discussion?

Until we meet again

More engaged in discussion

Than we thought possible

A clear moon ascends above the Capitol Building in the DC twilight. The gears, springs, and axles of the political machine have slowed, and only the most romantic tourists and dedicated fitness buffs remain under the cooling evening of the Mall. My mind turns to the present with its footing in the past.

The odometer reads 6,000 miles, but the number fails to capture the fullness of this moment. There is something to living in the present that captures both the past and the future. The present is never wholly isolated. Rather, each moment has the breath of eternity. To put it in less cheesy terms, consider this line from Marilynne Robinson’s novel Gilead:

“Every day is holy, but the Sabbath is set apart so that the holiness of time can be experienced.“

The same goes for the Carbon Sabbath. While this is one year and one bike with one rider, these are merely figures for the thousands of people involved in the greater community—including you! Each person or day or ride is connected to the strand of others, and their meaning is realized in community. To capture that wholeness, at times we must celebrate individual moments.

Thanks to Kristen Schenk at the Incarnation Parish and the Casa Alma Catholic Worker house for hosting a great evening! This is the Brown family, whose home is the center of the Casa Alma. If you'd like to connect with this great community, check out: http://cvillecatholicworker.blogspot.com/

While the Brown family signed the bike, I had the pleasure of playing their charango for the group packed into their house.

Thanks to Paul McCullough and Ashleigh Elser for hosting me! The blessing was mutual, compadres!

In honor of this benchmark, I want to take time to thank you all for participating in this journeying community. Whether you have been present for a discussion, hosted me, donated online, kept up on the website, or have just joined this adventure, I thank you all for turning your focus to the love of God at work at a time of unprecedented environmental peril.

It has been a true adventure through American Christianity. Our community is comprised of Episcopalians, Catholics, Amish, Mennonites, Evangelicals, Emergent, monastics, non-denominational, Lutherans, and a variety of other traditions. We are Native American, African American, Asian, European; farmers, ranchers, doctors, lawyers, union laborers, unemployed, theologians, craftspeople, homemakers, clergy, lay people; impoverished, middle class, wealthy—all rich in the economy of love. We have seen deserts, vineyards, mountains, oceans, lakes, streams, pastures, and fields. We know Amish, cowboys, Indians, surfers, coal miners, loggers, and gardeners. We speak to the beauty of America united in the love of God.

It is my hope that we can turn to this union and away from whatever distracts us. We face immense suffering as the reality of climate change becomes more and more apparent. In order to respond effectively, we will need to remain focused on the love that is the source of our being and to show that love to our neighbors in need. Each of us has different abilities that will enable this love in action.

For a taste of the diversity we’ve experienced on this trip and some of the moments that have slipped through the cracks, check out this clip of the Appalachian music at the Fayetteville, WV United Methodist Church:

As I write this, it has just been announced that President Obama has delayed the construction of the Keystone XL pipeline! Many believe that this will effectively end the proposal—at least until after the 2012 election. To read more, check out: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/11/us/politics/administration-to-delay-pipeline-decision-past-12-election.html?hp for this front page article in the New York Times. I want to thank everyone in the Carbon Sabbath community for putting your faith into action on this issue. Some of you were arrested in front of the White House. Many of you voiced your opinions in various hearings in Nebraska with the State Department. I had the pleasure of seeing many of those Nebraskan folks at Sunday’s rally around the White House. Great work, everyone! Your faithful action is making a difference.

On Sunday, November 6th, I joined 12,000 other folks at a rally to support Obama in what we hoped would be his opposition to the Keystone XL pipeline. I met friends from Yale and friends from the road. Now, we know that our voices were heard.

I had the pleasure of rallying with some good friends: Allen and Debbie Johnson from WV's Christians for the Mountains; Kristy and Russ Powell; Justin Haaheim. Great!

More YDS friends, including Kelly Forbush and Katie Salisbury!

I also saw Becca Bruce-- mother of Katie Helmstadter and John Helmiere-- and her husband Tod!

Later that night, Justin Haaheim and I ran into Bill McKibben as he was leaving a party for 350.org. He happily signed the bike as a representative of the day. In addition to being one of the leading writers on climate change, Bill also teaches Sunday school in his hometown and is well-versed in theological issues. Great to have his addition to the bike!

Back in August, these two fine folks were arrested at this very spot while expressing their love of neighbor.

Today, we celebrate; tomorrow, we serve.

Until we meet again
More joyful
Than we thought possible

Thanks to the great folks at the JVC LDP-- one of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps sites!

http://cvillecatholicworker.blogspot.com/