The climate risks we live with and the hope we need

I’ve lost count of the number of conversations I’ve had about “back-up plans” recently. What would you do? Where would you go? My friends are split between those who treat it like a parlour game and those who are serious—people who’ve actually researched how much it costs to buy citizenship of Grenada.

As far as I’m concerned, this country is still a great place to live as a Jew. I’m not going anywhere. But antisemitism represents a risk, and we all know it.

There is, however, another kind of risk—just as existential—that we all face, but rarely talk about around the Friday night dinner table. The evidence of this risk mounting is all around us. You don’t need to live in Jamaica, northern California, or the Negev desert to see that our weather is going haywire. Food prices are so volatile that some chocolate bars are no longer made from cocoa. And recent scientific studies show that as the oceans heat up, the Gulf Stream that keeps northern Europe warm is starting to weaken.

The climate crisis may not be a uniquely Jewish problem, but our tradition has a lot to say about it. We are a people who celebrate life—who find joy and meaning in community and seek to bring blessing into the world through our actions. As risks mount and cascade, not just our way of life, but our actual lives are under threat.

We are also in tune with creation. Our calendar follows the rhythms of the earth; our texts and rituals are deeply connected to nature, yet never enslaved by it. We live with nature symbiotically.

And we care about justice. Our core purpose as a people is to be a light unto the nations—a holy people, set apart, with a mission to help heal a fractured world.

Yet the potentially catastrophic impacts of climate change are not risks we’re typically attuned to. Why? Because it’s scary, massive, and confronting. And we live in a world where political and business leaders operate in short-term cycles, constrained by vested interests, giving us tacit permission to simply carry on as we are.

And yet, there is hope. Technologies that can help us transition from an extractive, carbon-based economy are proliferating. Awareness of the mounting risk is growing. And crucially, community voices—unconstrained by politics or profit—are beginning to take the stage.

That’s why I am a proud trustee of EcoJudaism, the UK Jewish community’s response to the climate and nature crisis. It’s also why I convened a global network of similar organisations to speak with one Jewish voice on this issue—to engage our communities and play our part on the global stage, making a positive difference on the defining challenge of our age. It’s why a group of Jewish people, all working in the climate and sustainability space are coming together as the Jewish Climate Professionals Network – to pool our ideas and scale our impact.

So when we talk about back-up plans and how to stay safe, let’s open up the conversation and think about the bigger picture. Because as the sages remind us: if not me, who? And if not now, when?