ABOUT: Conversations at the Edge of Hope: On Climate, Collapse, and Care
David R. Weiss – September 24, 2024

If you’ve landed here, it’s likely because you’re curious about the conversations “at the edge of hope” that I’m going to be leading at Merging Waters Unitarian Universalist on second Tuesdays starting on October 8. Maybe you’re wondering if these conversations are “right” for you. Let me tell you a bit about them, which I hope will intrigue you enough to come and check them out for yourself.

NOTE: This post describes the monthly conversations I’m holding. There is another page that serves as the “landing page” for my work around “Collapsing with Care.” After you read this post, you can visit that page to see where I’m at in the overall project.

First—“at the edge of hope.” Anyone who follows the news these days knows we dwell in a time that IS most honestly “at the edge of hope.” And that’s especially true when we talk about climate. So, here’s one thing to know. In these conversations I’m inviting you to accompany me into the very tumult of our current climate crisis. It will not be easy going or optimistic. “Hopeful” is too strong a word. But because we’ll gather as people of faith, “hopeless” is too strong, too. Indeed, we’ll be gathering as people of faith have throughout history in times of tumult: at the edge of hope.

Second, “on climate, collapse, and care.” I’ll be honest, after spending the past ten years (as a theologian, not a climate scientist!) reading and wrestling with the science, psychology, and spirituality around climate (and the many crises related to it), I’m not optimistic. As a father of six and grandfather of nine, I don’t use the word “collapse” lightly. But I am now convinced that the damage we have wrought on the planet is so severe (and unrelenting) that we are headed for ecological-societal collapse in the coming decades.

This clearly is already underway in Earth’s most vulnerable places, some of them wild, others inhabited. Most of them relatively far from us, but some of them are places right here, devastated by wildfire or other extreme weather. The point is there are millions of people already living in a collapsed world. And the rest of us will be at some point. I’m not interested in making predictions, except to say that I am convinced—crestfallen, but convinced—that my children and grandchildren will experience the direct effects of collapse here in the United States in their lifetimes. Perhaps yet in mine.

Now, I am all in favor of green energy initiatives and other efforts to lessen our carbon emissions. I think such efforts are important. I believe that both political advocacy and personal decisions have value. But I do not see anything capable of averting collapse. (I’ll explain why that is in one of the early conversations.) Which is why “care” is the final word—and the ultimate focus of the conversations. If collapse at this point is inevitable, then it’s imperative for people of faith to understand the cultural-psychological-spiritual roots of what we’ve done and to reckon with how we care for ourselves, our fellow creatures, and the Earth as collapse unfolds.

Care is paramount. Blending love, justice, grief, mercy, and compassion, care is the gritty work of being/becoming fully present to life in this moment. And that’s ultimately what these conversations will explore.

This is part of a ten-year journey for me. Moving forward—starting this fall, in conjunction with these conversations—I hope to draw together my ongoing work as a theologian to provide a field guide of sorts for what’s to come: “A Field Guide to Meaning-Making as the World Unravels.” Specifically, a guide to the inner landscape of our lives: a resource for processing collapse in ways that hold faith, nurture love, and practice care. It feels like sobering work, and yet, I’m convinced that in a collapsing world it will also be a field guide to finding joy.

I cannot stop collapse. But I can help chart a path into and through collapse with grace and vision. That’s why, despite the heavy tone of the topic, I hope you’ll consider joining us. I held a first round of these conversations last year, but I’m beginning again from the start this fall as Merging Waters settles into our new (shared) space alongside the United Church of Christ in New Brighton. They reflect Merging Waters’ commitment to bring our values of mindful interdependence, authentic curiosity, and courageous love to the very challenging topic of climate crisis. I extend a warm invitation to our friends at Pilgrim House UU and our newer friends at UCC/NB to share in this most important venture. Indeed, I welcome anyone willing (or driven) to join us for conversation at the edge of hope.

I hope to meet you there.

(We’ll meet at the United Church of Christ/New Brighton, 1000 Long Lake Road, New Brighton, MN 55112 – right at the NW corner of I-694 and Long Lake Road.)

Coming for the first time? I recommend you read at least the Short Introduction to this project AND the Prelude: On Collapse. The longer Incomplete Introduction is helpful background on me, but less critical to our weekly conversations.

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David Weiss is a theologian, writer, poet and hymnist, “writing into the whirlwind” of contemporary challenges, joys, and sorrows around climate crisis, sexuality, justice, peace, and family. Reach him at drw59mn@gmail.com. Read more at www.davidrweiss.com where he blogs under the theme, “Full Frontal Faith: Erring on the Edge of Honest.” Support him in Writing into the Whirlwind at www.patreon.com/fullfrontalfaith.