The Loaves and Fishes of Climate Finance (Mark 6)
Lowell Bliss - July 8, 2025
What do we do when the money we are advocating for to help finance climate mitigation and adaptation, or to fund loss and damage, just isn’t coming in? Last year, advocates for climate finance at COP29 in Baku claimed that US$1.3 trillion annually would be needed to address climate change under the Paris Agreement. Negotiators settled only on $300 billion, and of course, even that amount was immediately threatened by the rebellion led by President-elect Donald Trump. America would refuse to pay their share, and now others would follow suit. May I suggest three things to do as followers of Christ when climate finance is not coming in?
We agitate more for climate finance as a justice issue. I appreciate this recent article from a Christian Aid leader from the recent UNFCCC intersessional meetings in Bonn: “A COP30 roadmap to inaction or ambition on climate finance?” Like any movement in an oppressive and fascist moment, our advocacy will likely become more prophetic and radical.
We persevere in prayer, since we understand that is how Scripture encourages us. We remember that in Luke 18:1-8, for however unjust the “unjust judge” was, even more persistent was the “persistent widow.” God is not unjust, and that is why we persist in our intercession.
We also allow ourselves to go deeper into the mystery behind financing, as explained in Scripture.
For example, in Haggai, chapter one, the prophet addresses the governor of Judah and the high priest and asks them why they were delaying the financing and rebuilding of the temple following their return from exile. The Lord Almighty had overheard the deliberations of the people: “These people say, ‘The time has not yet come to rebuild the Lord’s house” (Haggai 1:2).
Then the word of the Lord came through the prophet Haggai: “Is it a time for you yourselves to be living in your paneled houses, while this house remains a ruin?”
Now this is what the Lord Almighty says: “Give careful thought to your ways. You have planted much, but harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it” (1:3-6).
Divine providence is at work here, as if God is the tailor who fits the stingy and unjust gentleman with trousers whose pockets have holes. Sure, governments are free to spend their “sovereign wealth” on reckless and cruel defense budgets or whatever they think will make their country FIRST and GREAT AGAIN, but they have no control over return-on-investment nor on any sense of satisfaction and well-being. The food eaten by a stingy person are empty calories.
On the flip side, God demonstrates that he is willing to multiply the effects of even our smallest acts of generosity. In the story of the Feeding of the Five Thousand, the disciples were compassionate but pragmatic. They may have even engaged in some worried economics.
When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things. By this time it was late in the day, so his disciples came to him. “This is a remote place,” they said, “and it’s already very late. Send the people away so that they can go to the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.”
But he answered, “You give them something to eat.”
They said to him, “That would take more than half a year’s wages! Are we to go and spend that much on bread and give it to them to eat?” (Mark 6:34-37).
How is this not a tableau of our climate finance discussions? Jesus shows up with compassion. The lack of global leadership is obvious. Vulnerable peoples are “hungry.” Solutions proposed are impractical or too expensive. Nonetheless, we feel that God wants us to respond.
“How many loaves do you have?” Jesus asked them. “Go and see.”
When they found out, they said, “Five—and two fish.”
Then Jesus directed them to have all the people sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in groups of hundreds and fifties. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to his disciples to distribute to the people. He also divided the two fish among them all. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces of bread and fish. The number of the men who had eaten was five thousand (Mark 6:38-44).
I won’t presume to explain the mechanics of this miracle, but a few things seem apparent. For one, Jesus didn’t appear to mediate the feeding of the 5000 through money. In other words, the equivalent of “more than half a year’s wages” didn’t suddenly appear with which the disciples could go buy enough food from the neighboring villages where, we assume, the bakeries and fishmongers had sufficient inventory in stock. Secondly, the miracle didn’t seem to involve multiplying the number of the loaves and fish. There seemed to always only be five loaves and two fish. No cartloads of thousands of loaves and thousands of fish appeared. Finally, the miracle didn’t act on the need but kept the disciples looking for the solution. In other words, Jesus could have miraculously suppressed the thirst and the hunger of the crowd. He didn’t. He fed them instead.
How did this miracle work, since it’s not like the money came in nor that the need had vanished? Did Jesus multiply the caloric value of the food? Perhaps. He certainly seemed to multiply the volume of it, judging from the “twelve basketfuls of broken pieces of bread and fish.” Regardless, the disciples never had a moment to examine what was happening; they were busy doing the work. They were organizing the groups on the green, counting them off into groups of 100s and 50s. They were distributing the food. They were collecting the remaining leftovers. The miracle happened to them unawares.
What do we do when climate finance doesn’t appear to be coming in?: we stay busy agitating for it (though we explore new ways to be activists); we stay busy praying for it (though we explore new ways to interact with God); and we stay busy doing the work we know is in keeping with his compassion. We have so little control over anything in life, but we do have control over how generous, how faithful, and how diligent we are. One of Catholic author Ronald Rolheiser’s “Ten Commandments for Mature Living” is to “Stand where you are supposed to be standing and let God provide the rest.”
In the end, we are all vulnerable, contingent, and helpless both to protect our loved ones and ourselves. …Maturity depends on accepting this with trust rather than anxiety. We can only do our best, whatever our place in life, wherever we stand, whatever our limits, whatever our shortcomings, and trust that this is enough, that if we die at our post, honest, doing our duty, God will do the rest.
We choose to stand in the middle of the struggle for climate finance. We remain at our post.
You are very dear to God,
Lowell Bliss
