“I hate funerals, Chandu,” a friend whispered as we were leaving church. “They are sad,” I said. “Not sad enough,” my friend persisted. “Omar overdosed on fentanyl, and no one even mentioned the horrors of addiction and the opioid crisis. Felt sad and hollow.”

No one wants to speak ill of the dead, especially when the circumstances are untimely or tragic. But that durable taboo prevents us from processing the grief, emptiness, loss, and perhaps sense of injustice about how and why someone died. Societal phenomena, like drug addiction and gun violence, are so devastating and intractable, that we are victims of this taboo. To this list, we add another: climate change.

Climate deaths from extreme weather are considered beyond human control. Society continues to be in denial and ignore relevant data. However, it is well-accepted science that an excess of Greenhouse Gases (GHGs) like carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, mostly from human use of fossil fuels, has destabilized our climate, making extreme weather events more likely and deadly. Droughts, floods, forest fires, heat waves, cyclones, tornadoes and hurricanes are now routinely and provably claiming more lives. Ignoring this stark evidence is like walking off a high-rise while denying gravity – a form of collective suicide.

Imagine a gedanken experiment in which we can compare the impact of a storm in a world without climate change to one in which the disaster is exacerbated by climate change. We can do just that with a new mathematical tool called attribution science, allowing us to determine additional death and damage because of climate change. An analysis of the ten worst climate disasters from 2004 to 2023, published by World Weather Attribution in 2024, concluded that 570,000 additional people died because of climate change. Many of the deaths were caused by heat waves. The cumulative number of climate deaths is expected to rise to 14.5 million by 2050 according to the World Economic Forum. When we compare this to the 645,000 cumulative deaths from the opioid crisis, we realize that we are facing a significant and increasing epidemic. Unfortunately, climate deaths will far exceed the opioid crisis and reach the level of homicides and suicides combined by 2050, making climate funerals commonplace.

All of us will be impacted by these realities and know climate casualties first-hand. How will we grieve for them? Speak for them? Speak of them? Funerals are deeply sensitive gatherings at an emotionally fragile time. Clergy must craft meaningful rituals that reflect the consolation of faith as well as the honesty of science. Of course, clergy must gently ask the family’s permission to raise the subject of climate change. Otherwise, such a pointed sermon will fall on angry ears and hurt hearts.

Let us imagine what we would say at a climate funeral. We offer a model sermon at a memorial for a hypothetical child who died in the recent catastrophic floods in Texas hill country.

“My friends,

“We are here today to ask for divine help to grieve the tragic loss of Maya. Only eight and full of life, Maya and dozens of her friends were swept away by the raging waters of the Guadalupe River. A bright light was snuffed out too early. Her death broke our hearts. While some called this a 100-year event and others declare it an act of God, we must acknowledge that such devastating events are increasing in intensity and frequency. Scientists say these “100-year events” will become once-a-decade “unnatural” disasters. Honesty requires us to probe uncomfortable questions and deal with harsh topics.

“We must acknowledge that we are all complicit in her death because we treat the earth like a disposable object to use until it no longer serves us. The problem is that there is no Planet B. In his powerful and challenging encyclical, Laudato Si, Pope Francis begged us not to see the earth as our possession, but as our common home that is dying because of our failures. Respect for nature is fundamental in all faiths.

“If we want to make the world safer for children like Maya, we must work together to reduce greenhouse gases by embracing available solutions like solar panels, wind turbines, heat pumps, batteries and electric vehicles.

“Maya would not want us to wallow in sorrow nor flinch from guilt. She would prefer that we search in our hearts for a new approach and take action. Let us pledge, in her memory, to treat this earth with the respect it deserves, to educate ourselves on solutions, to rapidly reduce our emissions, and to dedicate ourselves to tireless advocacy. There is no better way to honor Maya’s memory than to honestly reckon with what caused her death and rededicate ourselves to preventing this from happening to another innocent victim. What a wonderful tribute to Maya if we joined hands across the globe to heal our beautiful earth. Maya will not have died in vain.”

Climate change demands urgent action. Its effects are already devastating. Pastors of every faith should be better educated and willing to address it at all types of services. Rituals of lament — especially funeral rites — carry expiatory power to hold up a mirror to face our feelings and acknowledge communal guilt. Our rituals in every faith-based system can direct us to transform our attitudes and behaviors toward the earth.

Just as every opioid overdose is connected to the pharmaceutical industry, every climate death is linked to fossil fuels. How long will we run from the truth and celebrate hollow memorials for climate casualties? Who will speak so that no climate death is in vain? If not us, then who? If not now, then when? Who among us wants to be complicit in mass extinction of species and collective suicide?

Brother Jack Rathschmidt, PhD, is a Capuchin Franciscan friar, teacher and author.
Chandu Visweswariah, PhD, is Vice-President of CURE100, an environmental non-profit.

These blog posts are opinion and analysis articles. The views expressed by the authors are solely their own and not those of any organization they are affiliated with or CURE100.