My message is that if we do not care about the climate crisis and

On the Sacred Duty of Protecting the Earth and the Voice of the Future

When Greta Thunberg, the young herald of our age, declared, “My message is that if we do not care about the climate crisis and if we do not act now then almost no other question is going to matter in the future,” she was not merely speaking of science or policy — she was uttering a truth as old as creation itself. Her words ring like the cry of an oracle, calling humanity back to remembrance: that all our dreams, ambitions, and empires are but dust if the earth that sustains them is undone. The climate crisis, in her message, is not one issue among many; it is the foundation upon which all others stand. Without air, there is no breath; without soil, there is no harvest; without balance, there is no life.

To not care is to forget that the world is a living being — vast, generous, and fragile. The ancients, who bowed before rivers and spoke to trees, understood what many moderns have forgotten: that the Earth is not a possession but a mother, and her patience is not infinite. Greta’s words awaken this ancient reverence in modern form. She speaks as one who sees the threads of life trembling, stretched by the weight of human greed. Her warning is both rational and spiritual — that our time to act is not some distant tomorrow, but this very breath, this very heartbeat. For if we fail to act, the chain of life that connects all beings will unravel, and with it will fall the dreams of all generations to come.

Throughout history, there have been those who stood at the edge of ruin and raised their voices to awaken the sleeping. So it was with Cassandra of Troy, the prophetess who warned her people of the coming destruction. They called her mad, and they ignored her cries — until the city burned. Greta, too, stands in this tradition: a voice of conscience calling through the noise of denial. Yet unlike Cassandra, whose fate was despair, Greta’s call is not one of doom, but of hope through action. She believes still in humanity’s capacity to change, to remember, to rise. Her message is a test of our collective wisdom — whether we will heed the warning, or, like Troy, perish through our own arrogance.

And let us remember: the Earth has endured calamity before. Civilizations that forgot their bond with nature have fallen into silence. The once-green lands of Mesopotamia, cradle of civilization, became desert through the overuse of its soil. The mighty Easter Islanders, who carved gods from stone, felled their last tree in pursuit of their own glory. In every age, the pattern repeats: the hand that takes too much leaves behind emptiness. But unlike them, we hold a power they never knew — the power of global awareness, the ability to act as one planet. This is our gift, and our burden.

Greta’s words are both a judgment and a plea. She asks: what use are politics, wealth, or even peace, if the earth itself cannot sustain them? What will freedom mean when the air burns, or justice matter when the seas rise to swallow our cities? Her message pierces to the heart of human pride — reminding us that the most intelligent species on Earth may also become its most foolish if it forgets humility. To act now is not merely to save the forests and oceans; it is to save ourselves from the blindness of our own making.

The wisdom in her voice calls us to responsibility, but also to reverence. To act for the climate is to act in alignment with the eternal laws of life. Each small deed — a tree planted, a waste reduced, a voice raised — is a thread in the great fabric of renewal. The ancients offered sacrifices to honor the gods; we, in our time, must offer our awareness and our will to honor the Earth. For every act of care is a prayer, and every effort to protect the planet is a declaration that humanity still remembers its sacred duty.

The lesson, then, is this: we are the guardians of the present, but also the ancestors of the future. To ignore the climate crisis is to betray both. Let each generation ask not, “What comfort can I claim?” but “What legacy shall I leave?” Walk gently upon the earth. Let your choices be guided by gratitude rather than greed. Live in such a way that the children of tomorrow will not curse your name, but bless it.

And so, in the spirit of Greta Thunberg’s cry, may we awaken from our slumber and take our place as stewards, not masters. For the Earth does not belong to us — we belong to her. And if we learn once more to walk in harmony with her, every other question will find its rightful answer. But if we do not — if we remain deaf to her warning — then, as Greta says, no other question will matter at all.