In the manner of a droid desperately seeking a docking station, I am constantly searching for a leader who can offer me some direction and energy in the battle for the biosphere. Until now, there’s been something of a leadership void. Anyone who so much as uttered the words “climate change” might find me looking up at them, awaiting instruction.

Now I feel like I can pick and choose. Perhaps it’s because people are competing with Greta Thunberg, the teenage agitator behind the climate strikes, but good adults are stepping into the limelight.

My latest climate crush is Dr Mae Jemison. Despite being famous for spending time in space – she became the first African American female in space in 1992, serving as a mission specialist on the space shuttle Endeavour – she is all about tackling climate change, on Earth and doing it now.

The funny thing about astronauts is that they are rare in everyday life but abundant on the climate circuit. Even I’ve met five. They are particularly prized for their “blue marble” moment, the point at which they glimpse the Earth from space. Their macro-perspective gives us some indication of where our micro-actions can help. But what I particularly rate about Jemison (and she is not one of those I’ve met) is the fact that her main message is essentially “get over yourself, human”. The Earth will carry on without you, so get focused on making sure you’re not ejected.

Last week, as part of a panel at Women in the World in New York, alongside Oprah Winfrey, she also kicked into touch the idea that we might up sticks and move our chaos to space when our tenancy here ends due to bad behaviour. “We must not use Mars as our Plan B,” she said.

Similar climate perspective was shown by Peruvian farmer and mountain guide Saul Luciano Lliuya (another of my personal climate leaders) when he filed a lawsuit against RWE, the German energy giant, alleging that its immense emissions threatened his family, his property and his home city of Huaraz, 6,500 miles away.

The case recently entered the evidentiary phase before the higher regional court in Hamburg. That might sound like a boring bit of process, but it’s of fundamental significance. The Lliuya case shows that everyday people can take on big emitters. It’s the David and Goliath showdown of our time. At the last count, 1,302 climate lawsuits were progressing through legal systems across the world. Some of them will win and change the stakes.

Chad Veach: praise the Lord and wear the $2,000 Gucci

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Pastor Chad Veach: fond of designer kit. Photograph: Matt Winkelmeyer/Getty Images

I’m wary of raising false hopes, but I think we may have found the purpose of Instagram. @ PreachersNSneakers takes a forensic look at the apparel choices of a clique of celebrity preachers that has coalesced around Justin Bieber.

Since Bieber embraced evangelical Christianity a few years ago, celebrity-connected pastors have entered the mainstream. These include Chad Veach, sometimes referred to as “Bieber’s pastor”; Carl Lentz, who apparently baptised Bieber in an NBA player’s bath; and one Rich Wilkerson Jr, who officiated at the wedding of Kim Kardashian and Kanye West. They amass huge audiences and Instagram followings and rock Bieber-inspired wardrobes.

Scrutinising the pictures of pastors at work has reaped rich rewards. Rather literally, the most expensive spot being a pair of Air Yeezy 2 “Red Octobers” worn by pastor John Gray, with a resale value of $5,611. This has raised questions over what the good lord might make of such materialism and whether a megachurch pastor should be a hype-beast.

Under fire over his $1,980 Gucci backpack and $794 Traxedos track pants, Chad Veach is the only man of (expensive) cloth to attempt a comeback so far, posting that he didn’t pay for his outfit. He quickly thought better of it and deleted it.

As with all trends propagated by social media, we should be wary of contagion. I recommend UK clergy restrict themselves to modestly priced Hush Puppies, with typical orthopaedic support. The last thing we need now is Rev Alan from The Archers attempting to hide his Yeezys under his cassock.

Jude Law is buff and that’s not papal bull

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Jude Law: all hail the uber beach boy. Photograph: Ciao/Ciaopix/Backgrid

Hey, Jude Law, how does it feel to get a 100% approval rating? That’s what I’d ask at the end of the week when images of the actor filming (The New Pope) in white budgie smugglers generated meltdown.

It goes deeper than the prurient. Timing was important: Brexit day 9,000 or trunks? But the images also delivered meme heaven and played into a weird trend for objectifying priests (thanks, Fleabag).

But the unexpected element was how we felt about Jude. He’s been in our lives for many years. He’s had bad times and indeed bad films. But we’ve always rooted for him. “Has anyone in the history of humankind reacted to losing his hair better than Jude Law?” asked writer Joe Reid as we gloried in Jude’s buff pontiff snaps.

It’s not all sunlit uplands. Jude’s briefs have launched a hundred beach-body-ready guides increasing body image pressure on men. They will generate beachwear angst. “Holiday get-up for men is tricky territory,” advised the Telegraph, which is understatement of the year if you’re proposing tight white trunks. My advice – do not go there.

But Jude did, and he gave us a day off and broke the internet, so well done.