By every estimation, California is facing its worst drought in decades. Compounded by the likelihood of devastating heat waves this summer, 2022 will present us with the reality of climate change and the sobering realization that, regardless of our resources, none of us can escape the dangers.

Among the themes in Judaism’s morning worship service is the celebration of the world and its magical balance, the cycles of the seasons, and the miracles of daily life. It is a beautiful meditation on the natural world as it is meant to exist. Our ancestors could never imagine a circumstance where human beings could disrupt what they perceived to be a God-ordained eternal order. In fact, until only a couple of decades ago, only a few among us could have envisioned it either. Though there are still a few “climate change deniers,” their ranks are thinning by the minute. Tragically, we have reached a stage where the conversation is not only focused on how to reverse the actions that have led to our current state, but on how we can mitigate the devastation that is, at this point, inevitable.

Here, once again, the themes of this week’s Kavanot converge: the final optimistic overture of “Hadestown,” the legacy of our people who’ve literally risen from the ashes, and the compelling words of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks.

Judaism is an identity that affirms hope in the face of despair. Within our ideological embrace of hope is the awareness of tikkun olam—the 16th-century teaching that human beings can mend a fragmented world. It is an acknowledgement that there is no act too small to improve the world. None of us alone can reverse climate change. But when taken together, each of our seemingly small, individual acts of tikkun olam—taking steps to conserve water, reducing our personal carbon footprint, curbing our use of plastics, changing our habits of consumption—can help repair our broken climate. Together, we can literally repair the world.

Rabbi Tarfon famously said:  לֹא עָלֶיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמֹר וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לְהִבָּטֵל מִמֶּנָּה. It is not your duty to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it. His words are as true today as they were when he first spoke them 1,800 years ago. The task is large and the threat is looming. The danger is real. Yet, our affirmation of hope in the face of despair compels us to do all that we can to secure our future.

—Rabbi Ron Stern