Woke Oregon chaplain is helping eco-warriors ‘say goodbye to species’ while activists deal with anxiety from ‘climate grief’

An Oregon clergyman is helping environmentalists deal with “climate grief,” part of a growing movement of religious leaders addressing the environmentally-induced existential angst people are experiencing.

Reverend Liz Olson, a certified hospital chaplain, now leads the group Sustaining Climate Activists after targeting people struggling with “parting the species.”

Her group’s difficulties were mapped out this week by NPRwho attended one of its sessions, where the members – reportedly almost exclusively made up of retired adults – discussed their problems.

“I need support in my grieving process,” attendee Diane Ware told the outlet.

Climate ministry is a new form of religious teaching that no longer focuses on faith, but rather on climate fear.

Olson’s group meets once a month at a public library, which participants say is their only source of support in their fears about global warming.

Ware started the organization after terrible wildfires raged on the Hawaiian island of Lahaina in August 2023.

Despite reports that the wildfires may have been caused by downed power lines, Ware said she was angry that some news organizations failed to link the tragedy to climate change.

“I thought, How are we ever going to solve this problem if we can’t even talk about it and get good information from the newspapers, which we consider to be the keepers of the truth?” she told NPR.

“And then I thought, ‘Wow, I’m fried.'”

The group was formed in 2016 when activists from the Southern Oregon Climate Action Now group panicked over the election of Donald Trump.

“Trump’s election has everyone in a panic,” said Alan Journet, one of the founders. “The group wanted to find a way to deal with fears and anxieties about climate and politics.”

During Olson’s sessions, members can express their fears about global warming. A box of Kleenex is reportedly passed around and a color wheel of emotions is used.

One group member said she started attending the sessions after the massive wildfires on the Hawaiian island of Lahaina last year

At the recent meeting, which NPR attended, Olson discussed the methods she uses to help her constituents get through their day.

“Just breathe normally,” she told the group.

‘You can use this breath whenever you feel panicked or worried, knowing that we have a symbiotic relationship with the plants and the trees, and that as you breathe out, they breathe in, and as you breathe in, they breathe out. We are always connected to the plants and the trees.’

The rest of the group discussion was reportedly confidential, but did involve passing around a box of Kleenex and a color wheel of emotions such as fear, anger, loneliness and concern about a warming world.

Ware and others said they had enough strength to continue by the end of the sessions, having realized that their years of focus on climate change had made little difference.

The retiree said she often feels hopeless, but leaves the meetings with renewed hope.

“It may not come during the meeting or after,” Ware said. “But it comes, like a cat sneaking up, when my whole being is ready. It brings me back to myself with a different level of awareness and confidence.”

Group members say their eco-anxiety sessions started in 2016 because the election of Donald Trump ‘put everyone in a panic’

Olsen’s group emerged from the rise of “eco-pastorate,” which has only emerged in recent years and is not recognized as a recognized branch by any church.

The title may have been coined by Naropa University student Sarah Vekasi and was popularized in 2015 by Rabbi Katy Z. Allen when she wrote “A Call for a New Kind of Chaplain.”

Her article, published by the Association of Professional Chaplains, stated: “We are stuck here on this shrinking, warming planet we love so much and depend on so completely… We are all in a place where the presence of a chaplain is needed.”

There are currently about 100 eco-clergy working and their methods are very diverse, but largely similar to Olsen’s group sessions and individual therapy.

One of the chaplains, the Rev. Alison Cornish, told NPR she was surprised when she offered a training course for other pastors, which drew 80 applicants.

“They ask how we deal with regret, with complicity, with grief and with saying goodbye to species,” she said.

“They create rituals to honor all of these things.”