Some thoughts on the end of Kansas' RPS

Today is the day that SB 91 gets debated on the Kansas House floor. This is the bill that came out of the “deal” between the wind industry and the Kochfrastructure (Americans for Prosperity, Koch Industries and the state Chamber of Commerce). It turns Kansas' 20% mandatory Renewable Portfolio Standards (RPS) into a goal, in exchange for the withdrawal (for now) of a proposed 4.33% excise tax on commercially generated renewable energy. For our response, see this statement.

On the one hand, this feels like a huge loss. Kansas IPL, along with our partners in the advocacy community, in industry, and in the legislature, have worked for three years to maintain the RPS, because it's an important and successful policy and because we didn't want Kansas to be the thin edge of a national movement to repeal RPSs in other states.

On the other hand, it had long started to feel, to me at least, that this thing was taking a lot more effort than it was really worth. As this article from Grist points out, Kansas is already at 21.7% of generation from wind, with a further 1,273 megawatts under contract. On this front at least, the wind industry is correct: the repeal of the RPS is not going to mean that wind energy is going away in Kansas. For commercial reasons – it is the cheapest new-source energy on the market, and new coal is cost- and regulation-prohibitive – it will continue to grow, even without a mandatory RPS.

And even the question of manditoriness (manditorytude?) is unclear. The other issue we've been working on this year is the Clean Power Plan. Under this, the Kansas Department of Health and Environment (KDHE) is to develop and submit a state implementation plan (SIP – there's a lot of acronyms in this work) to the EPA; once accepted by EPA, it becomes legally binding. So we think that once the 20% renewable goal is included in the SIP, it will be legally binding – ie, mandatory. So suck on that, Koch Brothers.

The more I think about it, the more I think that CEP's later pressrelease hit it right on the head – the Kochfrastructure spent hundreds of millions of dollars to repeal the RPS, and by the time they did, it had already been surpassed. It's kind of a joke. Although RPSs have been repealed in a couple of other states, the Kochs' fevered dream of rolling back the renewable energy revolution has failed.

One thing I'll say there because I probably won't say it anywhere else: the wind industry people that we've been working with for three years decided, in their wisdom, not to try to convince us (advocates) of the wisdom of the deal, or even to inform us that there was a deal. We never received so much as a phone call, and we were directly lied to when we asked about it. We, being idealists, were hurt by this behavior. This is one of those places that politics is a bitch, and I was involved in politics long before I became a rabbi. You know what? That's their karma.

Kansas IPL has a lot of things to work on. There's an upcoming Westar rate case that will attempt to destroy rooftop solar through high fixed charges. Pope Francis is issuing an encyclical on climate change this summer, and we will be organizing our Catholic supporters to develop and deliver an effective, supportive response. What's going to move the needle on our state's response to the ongoing challenge of climate disruption is grassroots organizing in faith communities. That's our mission, and that's what we'll do, with or without an RPS.

Keep the faith.

Remarks at the "Ferguson" interfaith vigil, August 28, 2014

I'm going to frame my comments by quoting two biblical texts, but first I want to say something I think is really important. Silence is assent.

I have long known about some of the factors that have led us to the situation are are in today: the re-segregation of society, the 30 year long so-called war on drugs and the cost it's had on communities of color, the increased paranoia of post-9/11 America, with its cutting corners on the constitution, and the militarization of the police.

But I've been mostly silent about all that, and silence is assent.

Something happened to me when I watched what happened in Ferguson. I've been to demonstrations in my life, but never have I seen a sniper on an armored personnel carrier aiming a loaded assault rifle at a largely peaceful crowd. When I saw what happened to Mike Brown, and the community's response, and the police's – and I know that's not the only place; when I heard about some of what the African American community has had to face in St. Louis County – the traffic stops, the fines, the petty and less petty hassles - and I know that's not the only place. I thought, I can't be silent anymore. I can't assent to this anymore.

My thoughts went to Deuteronomy 10:

And now, O Israel, what does the Lord your God demand of you? Only this: to revere the Lord your God, to walk only in His paths, to love Him, and to serve the Lord your God with all your soul... Cut away, therefore, the thickening around your heart and stiffen your necks no more. For Adonai you God is God supreme and Lord supreme, the great, the mighty, and the awesome God, who shows no favor and takes no bribes, but upholds the cause of the fatherless and the widow and befriends the stranger, providing him with food and clothing. You too must befriend the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.

Cut away the thickness around your heart. Don't stand there when so much injustice is being done to to your neighbor, to your countryman, to your brother. Don't blame people for being poor, or for unjust traffic stops, or for getting shot in the street. Don't blame Mike Brown for what happened to him. Open you heart. To the white people here tonight I say: cut away the thickness of your heart – feel your neighbor's distress.

But don't just feel it – do something. For God “shows no favor and takes no bribes, but upholds the cause of the fatherless an the widow and befriends the stranger, providing him with food and clothing.” It is in acting for justice for the stranger, for the person we don't know, that God's presence is felt, and known.

I can't solve the drug war, or the militarization of police, at least not tonight, not this week. But you know what I can do? I can befriend the stranger. I reach out to my neighbor. I can promote more interaction, more conversation. I can show up with my voice, and I can withdraw my consent.

My second text is also from Deuteronomy, 16:20: Justice, justice you shall pursue. Because there's a principle that not a word in Torah is wasted, the commentators spend a lot of time trying to figure out the meaning of the repeated word “justice.” Some think it's a repetition for emphasis, some think there are different kinds of justice involved. But tonight, I interpret that line to be “black people standing up for justice, and white people standing up for black people standing up for justice.” Because racism is a problem created and sustained by white people, and it can't be addressed until we address it. By not being silent, by withdrawing consent, by reaching out to the stranger, by working to make sure that this epidemic of black deaths in America ends. Tonight. And don't just wait for it – justice doesn't just happen, you have to pursue it, you have to make it happen.

I pray that tonight is only the first step toward addressing this issue as a community. Let us all, black and white, work for the day when there is there isn't black justice and white justice but an American justice, for all, when each individual will be treated as b'tzelem elohim, created in the image of God, Let us truly work for the day when a person will be judged not by color of their skin, but by the content of their character.

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Tisha B'Av and the Brokenness of the World

There's so much going on in the world, and in my heart, that I almost don't know what to talk about. So I'll start with the calendar.

Monday night and Tuesday mark the Jewish holiday of Tisha B'Av. It commemorates, first of all, the destruction of the two Temples in Jerusalem, the first by the Babylonians in 586 BCE and the second by the Romans in 70 CE. In their times these were cataclysms unimaginable in their scope. The second destruction in particular led to a loss of Jewish life which was, in proportion, likely comparable to that of the Holocaust. Beyond that, though, the second destruction marked the end of Jewish sovereignty for almost 2000 years, and the experience of exile.

It's difficult to overemphasize how important these events have remained, how closely they've been held. The weekday Amidah prayer contains prayers asking for the rebuilding of the Temple and the gathering of the exiles, as does the Birkhat Ha-mazon, Grace after meals, so religious Jews would be asking for these things at least 5 or 6 times a day. The custom of breaking a glass at a wedding is to remind us that our joy cannot
be complete as long as the Temple remains destroyed and the Jewish people remain in exile.

The rabbis established Tisha B'Av as a day of mourning, and it is the second sundown-to-sundown fast on the calendar. It is marked by strict mourning practices, many the same as on the other full fast day, Yom Kippur: no food or drink, no sexual activity, no wearing of leather shoes, no bathing or wearing perfume. People sit on the floor or on low benches at services, and the Book of Lamentations is read, recounting in harrowing detail the destruction of Jerusalem. We're meant to refrain from pleasurable activities, including Torah study – the only time in the year that that's prohibited.

As time went on, the rabbis added more significance to Tisha B'av. It was when the Romans crushed the Bar Kochba revolt in 125. It was the day the Jews were expelled from England in 1290. It was the day the Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492. It was the day the Final Solution was approved in 1941. The historical accuracy of these sitings are not important. What's important is that there was a day to commemorate all the evil that has been done to the Jewish people since the time of the Temple.

Modern Jews have always had a ambivalent relationship with Tisha B'av, which I attribute to a number of reasons. First is practical – it occurs in the summer, when most Jews are not that active Jewishly, and it doesn't get covered in religious school. There's also the discomfort with the association of the holiday with the ancient sacrificial system. One of the first changes the Reform movement made was removing the prayers asking for the restoration of sacrifice. The classical Reform movement also had a problem with the idea of the return of the exiles – they wanted to be full citizens in their country of origin, and not be perceived as waiting for the opportunity to return to the ancient homeland.

The issue changed after the establishment of the state of Israel. Why should we continue to mourn for destroyed Jerusalem when Jerusalem is rebuilt​? Why not acknowledge our people's at least partial redemption? Traditionalists would point to the unbuilt Temple. Others would point out that past tragedies are still tragedies even if they are not happening directly to us, and we observe Tisha B'av as a kind of Yohrzeit for all that has befallen the Jewish people throughout the ages, as an act of solidarity with them – of memory. Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, who I really intend to talk about one of these days, suggested that we acknowledge the partial redemption of the Jewish people by fasting for part of the day, perhaps until noon or 3 o'clock.

But I have to say, I'm feeling the brokenness of the world very closely this year. Very closely. The world seems to be falling apart before our very eyes. Syria, Libya, Iraq and the so-called Islamic State, Ukraine and Russia, Israel and Palestine. Death and destruction, fear and hatred, displacement and homelessness, a horrible carousel with, seemingly, no way out. Dissension and anger amongst friends and relatives over Israel's actions.

The response to Israel's actions is leaning heavily into antisemitism, particularly in Europe. Foreign ministers from France, Germany and Italy had to issue a joint statement condemning the actions. “Anti-Semitic rhetoric and hostility against Jews, attacks on people of Jewish belief and synagogues have no place in our society,” it read. So much brokenness.

But I'm most concerned about the level of discourse in the Jewish community. A wave of racism and hostility amongst Jews, both here and in Israel. Anti-war protesters in Tel Aviv set upon by right wing counter-protesters. An Israeli soldier posts a picture saying, “This gun killed 13 children, all you Muslims are next.” Yesterday a friend approvingly posted an article from state-supporting media in Egyptians saying that if Gazans didn't rise up against Hamas then they all deserved to get bombed. Today there was an article in the Times of Israel arguing the halachic (Jewish legal) question of “When Genocide is Permissible.” Later the post was removed and the site apologized, but the question remains whether this was really outside the norm or if it represents an unacceptable exaggeration of an increasingly acceptable dehumanization of the Other in our community.

Please note that I'm not talking about the war itself, or the actions Israel has taken, I'm talking about the terrible passions that are accompanying it. Things happen during wars, temperatures rise, I get that, but where is the Jewish reliance on the rule of law, on ethical standards, that we have been so rightly proud of? If we lose that, what do we have left? We are told that the second temple was destroyed due to “sinat hinam” - the senseless hatred of other Jews. I wonder if, God forbid, we lose the third republic, if the reason will be sinah le'acherim, or the senseless hatred of others. So, so much brokenness.

Even here, in our own community, a person we know, who many of us have been fond of, has been accused of a terrible act. Over the course of the last year, the sweet girl struggling to make a go of it has deteriorated before our eyes into someone we were frightened to be around – for good reason, as it turns out. I don't know the whole story so I don't how this happened, though I know that mental health care is a disaster in this country and now I have seen with my own eyes, we have all seen the line between evil actions and mental incapacity get blurry, and now this girl is lost. Such brokenness.

And lest we forget, California is undergoing a paralyzing drought, June was the hottest June on record world-wide. This is from Mother Jones: On June 28, a fire broke out at a Halliburton fracking site in Monroe County, Ohio. As flames engulfed the area, trucks began exploding and thousands of gallons of toxic chemicals spilled into a tributary of the Ohio River, which supplies drinking water for millions of residents. More than 70,000 fish died.  The earth itself, it seems, is broken.

Sometimes the brokenness gets so bad, it's paralyzing. The Jewish tradition, in its sometimes really profound wisdom, said that at times like this, when the brokenness gets so bad that there seems to be no way out of it, we stop, we take off our shoes, we sit on low benches, we read sad poetry, and we mourn. We mourn for the dead and wounded. We mourn for the frightened population in their shelters. We mourn for the morals and ethics that are the first casualties of war. We mourn for the soldiers, who do what we make them do, no matter how unwise that might be. For the girl whose mental illness proved stronger than she was. We mourn for the fish, for the damaged and battered earth. We just mourn.

And that's what Tisha B'av is. That's why I encourage you to observe it in some way this year. Even if just a piece of it, such as fasting after dinner on Monday, or skipping breakfast on Tuesday, or sitting on the floor, or reading sad poetry. Just so you acknowledge the brokenness.

And you know what we do after that? We break the fast, we put on our shoes, we stand up, and we go on about the work of repairing the world.

Shabbat shalom.  

Tribalism vs. Universalism

I'm writing this with a heavy heart, as warfare between Israel and the Hamas government of Gaza has broken out yet again. I believe this is the fourth time since the Israel's 2005 disengagement from Gaza that hostilities have broken out.

Like many who are concerned about that small piece of land that is home to two peoples, my social media pages have seen a lot of extremely emotional posts about the situation. On one hand are the pro-Israel voices, who essentially say that the Gazans brought this on themselves by electing Hamas and allowing them to shoot rockets into Israel. On the other hand are pro-Palestinian voices, who see this situation as the outcome of 60 years of Israeli occupation and (what they see as) Israel's refusal to negotiate in good faith toward a peaceful settlement. And there are Jews in both camps.

I think this reflects a tension between two strains within Judaism: tribalism – the communal imperative to privilege Jewish peoplehood and self-defense, particularly defense of Israel and its actions; and univeralism - the call, emanating for the prophetic tradition, to live according to our best values, to treat The Other as we would wish to be treated. For the tribalist, Israel's actions are necessary self-defense, however unfortunate; for the universalist, Israel's actions are at best reckless and at worst an abrogation of its, and the Jewish people's, commitment to be a “light unto the nations.”

The tribalist tends to be the one who holds Jewish identity itself the closest, and who might have been told, “Always keep your passport in order, in case you have to leave suddenly,” who prioritizes Israel as the last refuge of an ever-refugee people. The universalist lives in an America where Jews are not only tolerated, but honored – respected by all, at the top of every field. They can't imagine a circumstance in which they would ever have to flee, and to them, Israel's role as potential haven is theoretical at best.

This is an oversimplification, as both tendencies appear in both countries, but we might even say that tribalism is represented by Israel – a fortress mentality focused on self-protection and self-preservation, and universalism is represented by America – where Jews are, and want to be, one people among many.

And for further oversimplification, tribalists tend to be more religious, older, in-married and affiliated with synagogue and Federation, while universalists tend to be more secular, younger, intermarried (or the product of interfaith homes) and unaffiliated. Although we certainly have many people in our LJCC community who value their commitment to Jewish peoplehood, we (I believe) tend to be more universalist - in our commitments, in our beliefs, and in our actions.

I think we're starting to see the tension between the two tendencies near the breaking point. Tribalists can't understand why anybody would question Israel taking whatever it believes are the necessary steps to defend its people, and universalists can't understand how any country – or any religion - could justify some of Israel's actions, particularly when they result, as they so often do, in civilian casualties.

Worse, we may be entering a situation where Israel's actions are serving as a deterrent to people being involved in Judaism at all. If Israel represents Judaism, they say, if what it does represents what Judaism means, then count me out.

I look at that with as much heartbreak as I look at the violence in Israel/Palestine. At this point I feel closer to the universalists of other religious traditions than I feel to the tribalists of my own. I don't want to spend my time defending Israel-right-or-wrong. I want to develop, and represent, and teach, a Judaism that is universal in its commitments, that promotes peace, reconciliation and diversity, a Judaism that is in keeping with what I think are its deepest and best values. A Judaism that calls us to our best selves.

And offer it to whomever wants it.

I hope that includes you.

Remarks at the Interfaith Vigil at LJCC- April 21, 2014

These are the remarks that I made at the Interfaith Vigil at the LJCC on April 21.

Last week, in Jewish homes all over the world, we retold the story of the Exodus from Egypt. We are told that when the seder was being developed, there was a rabbinic disagreement about the meaning of the word “slavery.” Was it, as the sage Rav said, forced labor – not being in control of your own life, your own destiny? Or was it, as Shmuel held, a form of idolatry, the putting in the place of God those things that do not deserve to be in held in such high esteem? Is it physical slavery, or spiritual slavery? As is so often the case, both cases were kept, and both arguments were kept, and both aspects are mentioned in our seders.

Usually when I talk as a rabbi about the spiritual aspect of slavery, I mention those things that constrict us, that prevent our personal or spiritual growth – materialism, or a focus on achievement, or the like. Given the events that took place in Overland Park, this year we are forced to focus on another form of idolatry, an idolatry that has been with us since before the birth of this nation – white supremacy.

Make no mistake – while there is obviously an anti-semitic element to this tragedy, which links it to a hatred that is the world's oldest, and that triggers all sorts of bad memories and feelings and fears in the Jewish community – I believe this could have happened in any number of places where there gather those many whom violent white racists despise - in an African-American church, in a Sikh temple, or in a mosque, or in a car outside a convenience store. Violent white racism is the fever in America that refuses to die.

But look what happened. This person went to the JCC and to Village Shalom looking to kill Jews, but he killed Christians. You know what that tells me? He couldn't tell the difference. This was a person who spent every hour of his day investigation what he thought was the perniciousness of Jews, I'm sure he felt he knew all their features, yet when the moment came, he couldn't tell the difference.

Let me say their name: Dr. William Corporon, Reat Underwood, Terri LaManno. May their memories be a blessing.

They were just doing their thing, like people do all over the place all the time. Forever has there been a tension between this nativism, this violent racism, and it's opposite and antidote: diversity, inclusiveness, tolerance, community, and peace. And that's what was happening at the JCC, that's what was happening at Village Shalom, and that's the response that the Jewish community received from our friends locally and around the world in the aftermath of the tragedy, and that's what's happening here tonight.

Many Christian people have Jewish people in their extended families, many white people have African-Americans in their extended families. In 50 or 100 years it will be nearly as difficult to tell so-called races apart as it is today to tell religions apart. And that's a good thing. And that means that violent white racists are not only losers, but they've lost. Already, they've lost.

But they can still be dangerous, as we have seen. That's why we need to stand with each other, in community. When an African-American is racially profiled, when a Muslim community construction project is opposed simply for their religion, when a gay person is fired for being gay, when a woman is guilty of what happens to her simply because she is a woman – the rest of us must stand in solidarity. My white privilege may allow me to hide when the violence is not directed at me, but I must not hide. Your white skin and Christian identity may allow you to hide, but you must not hide. The answer to hatred is love, the answer to isolation is fellowship, the answer to racism and anti-Semitism and Islamaphobia is diversity and tolerance and inclusiveness, and the answer to violence is peace. The answer to evil is good, the answer to despair is hope, and the answer to idolatry is godliness. And those are all things that the faith community, at its best, has plenty of.

Thank you for being here tonight. Thank you for standing with us. Let this not be the last time we stand together each other's lives, for justice and for peace.

An Insight: It's not "Climate Change" that's the trigger for some people, it's "Interfaith"

I had what I think is an important insight about my organizing work for Kansas IPL. (I just celebrated my second anniversary in this role.) There's been a lingering sense that I/we were "preaching to the converted" because most of my presentations are in the urban areas of Kansas, and there's obviously a large number of people who live in smaller towns and rural areas that I haven't yet reached, and am unlikely to reach with messaging that relies, as IPL's does, on climate change.

My answer to that has been that preaching to the converted is actually a pretty important thing to do. We live in Kansas, after all, where many of the politicians are conservative extremists, where a large percentage of the people is very conservative, and where even the moderate pastors are loath to talk about "political" issues that could cause them hassles with the lay people. So it's not like people are getting a lot of climate change messaging, no matter where they live. Someone coming in and saying to them that climate change is an issue and God wants you to do something about it, can be pretty powerful. At least, I hope so.

But that's not the insight. The insight has to do with the word "interfaith" in the name of the organization, "Interfaith Power & Light." The definition of interfaith dialogue, according to Wikipedia, is "cooperative, constructive and positive interaction between people of different religious traditions (i.e., "faiths") and/or spiritual or humanistic beliefs, at both the individual and institutional levels." It's not a great definition for our purposes because we're not doing interfaith dialogue as such. What we're doing is cooperative interfaith action toward an exterior goal or goals: congregational energy efficiency, advocacy for clean energy, action against climate change, etc.

Now, Kansas is about 86% Christian, but the question is, can people stand to be around, and work with, a worldview that is different than their own? The mutual respect, the development (or realization might be a better word) of shared values, the recognition that people can be as authentically right in their practices and beliefs as you are in yours, and that this makes them neither a threat to be managed nor a soul to be saved, are all vital to the interfaith experience - and to the work of Kansas IPL.

When the organization started we had one fellow on the board who was from a conservative religious tradition (politically and theologically), he was very concerned about climate change and clean energy but a lot of people he spent a lot of time with saw the issues as partisan or hippie and he was very concerned with not messaging anything that would close off the conversation with them. He didn't want us to put "climate change" in the mission statement (fortunately national overruled him on that) or to do any advocacy. Hashing out all those issues took a long time and it kind of crippled the organization for a couple of years.

But my insight now is that it's not the words "climate change" that present the problem - well they do, but not as much as that other word: "interfaith." You may have seen this article, about the Missouri Synod Lutheran pastor who was severely criticized from within his denomination for taking part in an interfaith service in the aftermath of the Newtown. There are many people in this world, and in this country, and I daresay in the state of Kansas, who would agree with those who criticized this pastor.

But as vocal as they can be, I don't think they're the majority, and further, while I would be happy if they did efficiency work on their churches, I would not want them involved in Kansas IPL, even if they wanted to be. Because "interfaith" isn't a strategy, and it isn't a message - it's a deeply held value, central to what IPL is and - more - to the kind of world we want this world to become.

I'm still left with the issue, as I do my work, of how to talk to people who are not coming from the same worldview as mine. Interfaith has a lot to teach me there: honest witnessing, respectful dialogue, and the search for shared values. But, if someone has trouble with the "interfaith" part, then I know that's not fertile ground for us. For it's only in the acknowledgement that there can be shared values, that the search for shared values can begin.

Oped: Don't Roll Back Renewable Portfolio Standards

This piece originally appeared in the Wichita Eagle on February 12, 2013

People of faith are called to be responsible stewards of God’s Creation. That’s why Kansas Interfaith Power and Light is one of a number of business, agricultural, energy, environmental and faith-based groups supporting the most effective state policy we have for the development of clean energy in Kansas: the renewable portfolio standard. Adopted in 2009, the RPS requires that certain utilities generate or purchase 20 percent of their electricity load from renewable sources by 2020.

The RPS is a market-based mechanism that is intended to unleash the development of renewable-energy sources until they are at a competitive par with fossil fuels – and unleash them it has. It has led to an explosion of wind-energy development in Kansas, including more than 2,800 megawatts of installed wind energy equaling about $7 billion in investment since 2001, as well as the creation of 13,000 jobs directly or indirectly related to the wind industry in Kansas.

A report released in August by the American Wind Energy Association showed Kansas leading the nation in the number of wind turbines under construction. Kansas is on track to more than double its installed capacity and ranks seventh in the percentage of power derived from wind – 8.3 percent, equivalent to powering 430,000 homes. Add to this the development of manufacturing that supports wind development, such as the Siemens plant in Hutchinson that assembles nacelles and hubs for wind turbines, and we can see why Gov. Sam Brownback is such a strong supporter of wind. He noted recently: “Wind-energy development has created thousands of construction jobs and hundreds of permanent operation and maintenance jobs in Kansas. And we are nearing 2,000 jobs in wind-component manufacturing.”

The benefits of the RPS include increased diversity and security of our energy supply; reduced volatility of power prices; local economic development resulting from new jobs, taxes and revenue; and environmental improvement as we move away from polluting forms of energy toward cleaner and safer ones.

That’s why it’s so disturbing to see efforts in Topeka to roll back this sensible and successful policy. An effort in the Legislature to overturn the state RPS was rebuffed last session, but the issue has come up again, driven by the huge influence of fossil-fuel money on our political system.
Some claim that the RPS drives up the price of energy, but according to a March 2012 report by the Kansas Corporation Commission, compliance with the RPS thus far has had a “de minimis” impact on rates – in the zero to 1.7 percent range. In fact, by helping to make renewables more competitive, the RPS protects consumers from fluctuations in the price of fossil fuels. That’s why more than half of the 29 states with renewable portfolio standards have strengthened them – on a bipartisan basis.

On behalf of Creation, clean energy and good jobs for Kansans, it’s worthwhile to ask your legislators if they support a policy that helps develop one of the most successful economic sectors in Kansas over these recent difficult years; that provides jobs, economic opportunities, and tax revenue all across the state, including in areas with few other opportunities for economic growth; and that incentivizes the development of clean, homegrown and unlimited sources of energy.

The RPS is good for Creation, and it’s good for Kansas.

Read more here: http://www.kansas.com/2013/02/12/2672370/moti-rieber-dont-roll-back-renewable.html#storylink=cpy#storylink=cpy