Painted in Petals
Keeping the Faith with Planet Earth
Take it from a scientist:
Climate change isn’t all maps and graphs. It’s also a uniquely spiritual crisis.
BY AUDREY NELSON
COURTESY MIKE COX AND BY ANNIE GRAEBNER
That’s according to Mike Cox, a former EPA bureaucrat who helped found the local Interfaith Climate Circle advocacy group. Now in its third year, the Climate Circle is a project of the Bainbridge Island-North Kitsap Interfaith Council. The group holds both private meetings and community events with a mission to address dimensions of climate change that can sometimes get lost in numbers and news.
Much like the Circle itself, Cox is a study in contradictions— earnest and self-deprecating, rational and passionate. He still rejects any notion that he’s in charge of the Climate Circle—“too cultish,” he said—even as Kathryn Lafond, a fellow member, affectionately calls Cox “our ferocious leader.”
A 25-year island resident, Cox came up with the Climate Circle idea in 2022. “A number of us in the community had, for
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a number of years, been trying to bring people together to talk about climate change and what we could do individually and collectively,” he recalled. “A couple of us started going, ‘You know, we really haven’t reached out to different communities.’ And we said, ‘Well, how about the faith community?’”
There were practical reasons to make inroads into local places of worship. “It’s like the bank robber thing,” Cox said, laughing. “Why do people rob a bank? ’Cause that’s where the money is. Why do they go to churches? ’Cause that’s where the people are.”
But there were also more spiritual reasons. Cox is a member of Cedars Unitarian Universalist Church, and he knew that people across many different faiths believe in an “interdependent web of life.” Those people, he thought, would be well-equipped to discuss and tackle climate-based challenges.
Right away, the concept of an interfaith climate advocacy group appealed to many islanders—especially to those already in Cox’s orbit. Fran Korten, a fellow Unitarian, was all in as soon as she heard Cox’s name. “He organizes a lot of things [at Cedars],” she said. “And everything he organizes, I tend to join.”
Cox’s first step was to pitch the Climate Circle to the Interfaith Council, which represents 21 local faith communities and has existed in its current form since 1997. As a parent organization, Cox said, the IFC gave the Climate Circle “some legitimacy, so people didn’t think we were a bunch of crazies. It also granted the group “an avenue into the churches.”
Self-described spiritual ecologist Jennifer Wilhoit still remembers Cox’s first visit to the IFC. “It felt very coincident with some longings I had had to be working on these issues locally,” Wilhoit said. “There’s so many environmental groups here on the island in various ways doing amazing work…When Mike presented I realized I wanted something that had that interfaith piece as well.”
Gradually, the present-day Climate Circle began to take shape.
“When we got together, we were more just learning from each other about why people were concerned about this and what they wanted to do,” Cox explained. “But then we got more concrete.”
Even as the intimate Climate Circle—an email list of approximately 25 people—met monthly for discussions on climate change’s impacts, they were also looking outward, building relationships with local congregations. The group now holds “Climate Conversations” with many of these congregations, which can take the form of sermons, workshops or more casual conversations about faith and climate responsibility.
As a Climate Circle representative, Wilhoit noted that when she gives a sermon or leads a workshop for a place of worship, she’s careful not to overstep. “We aren’t banging people over the head or saying, ‘Let us in your door and we’re going to do this, that and the other thing,’” she said. “We really want to build relationships with the various faith groups…and then be able to have conversations that are really tailored around whatever that faith group is working toward.”
In addition to Climate Conversations, members of the Climate Circle facilitate public “Climate Cafes”— gatherings modeled on the Death Cafe, a nonprofit that holds group-directed end-of-life discussions over coffee. During Climate Cafes, Kitsap County residents share their climate anxiety and grief—“whatever is in their heart,” Fran Korten said—in a supportive, nondirective setting.
Despite their gravity, the cafes often end on an optimistic note.
“It’s tempting to say, ‘I can’t do anything about [climate change]. It’s beyond me. It’s too much,’” said Climate Circle member Phil Favero, a Quaker who’s been involved with interfaith advocacy since 2012. “But I think from a faith perspective, there’s an element of hope.”
The Climate Circle also offers more structured “Web of Life” gatherings at places of worship across the county. The most recent gathering, open to the community, attracted upwards of 70 people—which Favero said points to a serious community need.
“I know that a spiritual perspective is not for everyone,” he said. “We live in a secular world. But there are people who are looking to engage on the basis of their spiritual convictions.”
And the Climate Circle has plenty of upcoming offerings for them. The organization plans to seek out more collaborators across the region, and to set up a booth at the farmers market. A newsletter and a climate-themed reading group are also in the works.
Cox sees it this way: The more conversations taking place across the island, the better. His EPA experience only cements this. “First thing I learned is you gotta figure out what the values [are] of the people you’re going to talk to,” he said. “In other words, when I went to Eastern Washington and
When we come together [for meetings and retreats], we try to really drop into that deep well within us and bring our wisdom, our knowledge, as well as our grief for what’s happening in the world and what is lost.
—Kathryn Lafond
talked to the farmers about climate change, I didn’t even mention climate change…I asked them, ‘What are you doing?’ And they [said], ‘We’re getting [more] rain in the winter and less in the summer. We’re needing to store more water for irrigation,’ and on and on. They were the ones on the ground.” He’s clear on this: “You gotta talk to the people on the ground.”
Even as they lay this practical groundwork for change, members of the inner Climate Circle are tapping into a sense of spiritual connection that fuels their community work.
“When we come together [for meetings and retreats], we try to really drop into that deep well within us and bring our wisdom, our knowledge, as well as our grief for what’s happening in the world and what is lost,” Lafond said. “We really spread a full, full arm around everything that’s happening.”
That often takes the form of personal disclosures from members. “There have been a number of times where we’ve gotten together, someone’s been facilitating, and it just opens everyone up to a much deeper kind of sharing, awareness, connection,” Wilhoit said.
Even analytically minded Cox, surprising himself, has found value in these more private conversations.
“I’m a scientist, very logical,” he said. “We have a large range of people that…come in from a different perspective than I am. That’s why I love listening to them. And they look at me and go, ‘Come on, come on, engage here. Tell us something about yourself.’ ‘OK, OK, I’ll try.’”
Unburdening yourself—and holding space for others to do the same—is hard, intensely personal work. In the context of the climate crisis, Cox said, it’s also necessary.
“First you gotta build trust,” he said. “Then you can go to action.”