The U.S. trade deficit

Yes, residents have voted twice to relocate (in 2002 and 2016). But they haven’t moved. There’s not enough money to fund the relocation. The places chosen are not optimal. And perhaps, most importantly, there are no places like Shishmaref.They might be at the edge of the world, but elsewhere they would be far from some of the prime spots for subsistence hunting of bearded seals and other sea mammals or fishing and berry picking in the tundra that make up most of their nutrition. They would be dispersed from their close-knit community that prides itself on being one of the best makers of arts and crafts in the region and that maintains traditions and celebrates birthdays, baptisms and graduations centered around their homes, their local school and one of the world’s northernmost Lutheran churches.

“If they focus too much on that (on climate change), it will become too much of a weight, too much of a burden, because…there are birthday parties and there are funerals and there are sports events,” said the Rev. Aaron Silco, who is co-pastor of the Shishmaref Lutheran Church with his wife, Anna. They live next to the church and cemetery with their two-month-old son, Aidan. “There’s still life happening despite all of the weight and the burden that climate change can cast upon this community.”The Rev. Anna Silco, a co-pastor of the Shishmaref Lutheran Church with her husband, Aaron, interacts with children while showing them mustard seeds during a Sunday service in Shishmaref, Alaska, Sunday, Oct. 2, 2022. (AP Photo/Jae C. Hong)The Rev. Anna Silco, a co-pastor of the Shishmaref Lutheran Church with her husband, Aaron, interacts with children while showing them mustard seeds during a Sunday service in Shishmaref, Alaska, Sunday, Oct. 2, 2022. (AP Photo/Jae C. Hong)

Janet Kiyutelluk, 57, wipes her tears while singing a hymn as her granddaughter, Lacey Barr, 3, watches during a Sunday service at the Shishmaref Lutheran Church in Shishmaref, Alaska, Sunday, Oct. 2, 2022. (AP Photo/Jae C. Hong)Janet Kiyutelluk, 57, wipes her tears while singing a hymn as her granddaughter, Lacey Barr, 3, watches during a Sunday service at the Shishmaref Lutheran Church in Shishmaref, Alaska, Sunday, Oct. 2, 2022. (AP Photo/Jae C. Hong)

On a recent Sunday, they celebrated Mass with about two dozen parishioners. The Rev. Anna Silco asked the children in the group to gather on the steps of the altar, decorated with an ivory cross. She gave them mustard seeds from a small jar to explain the parable about keeping faith despite challenges.

“A mustard seed can grow into a huge tree,” she told them. “My faith can be as small as a mustard seed and that will be enough.”A Wayuu Indigenous family rested in a chinchorro, a traditional woven bed that many prefer over mattresses. Unlike a standard hammock, a chinchorro features an enclosed, elongated design with sides that gently wrap around the body, offering a cocoon-like feel. Wayuu people consider it more comfortable for sleeping than a hammock.

This family, also made up of Wayuu migrants from Venezuela, lives in an informal settlement, right beside Riohacha’s airport. Their house, with no running water, is prone to the severe floods and extreme heat that has ravished the La Guajira region in recent years.Rosa Elena Gonzalez, 45, an Indigenous woman from the Wayuu community, poses for the photo in her kitchen in the Somos Unidos neighborhood on the outskirts of Maicao, Colombia, Wednesday, Feb. 5, 2025. (AP Photo/Ivan Valencia)

Rosa Elena Gonzalez, 45, an Indigenous woman from the Wayuu community, poses for the photo in her kitchen in the Somos Unidos neighborhood on the outskirts of Maicao, Colombia, Wednesday, Feb. 5, 2025. (AP Photo/Ivan Valencia)Rosa Elena González, 45, is a Wayuu woman from Maracaibo, Venezuela. She has been living in the Somos Unidos informal neighborhood in Maicao, Colombia, for the past seven years, after migrating from Venezuela.