Where faith meets sustainability
For the past seven years, I’ve worked with faith-based environmental movements. It’s an interesting spot to be! I’ve interacted with the entirety of the spectrum, from committed environmentalists who have reasons to be suspicious about the religious crowd, to people who are discovering an environmental commitment because their faith led them in that direction.
I’ve also gotten to interact with mixed-faith communities of forest dwellers in Thailand, the forest-keeping Orthodox priests in Ethiopia, and tree-planting pastors in Mexico and Haiti. All while a climate crisis goes on.
I’ve learned a lot from doing all this. My own commitment to a healthy climate is a practice of faith, as a Christian who’s also learned from so many other perspectives. To put it simply, my faith only increases the importance I put on climate action, the wonder I have for nature, and the stakes of our ecological connections. And my time in nature and working to protect it only humbles me and leaves more room for faith.
In the U.S., at least, there’s this tension between religion and environmentalism. It’s not terribly hard to unpack.
Particularly in the United States, being religious has a correlation with being politically conservative. Of course, that flattens a lot of nuance, but those are the stats. Conservative stances generally downplay or even villainize the value of environmental action. (Again, flattening a lot here.)
But one outcome of this dynamic is a political and religious landscape that makes Christian environmentalists feeling isolated. Too hippie for church and too religious for the scientific community.
I’ve seen a few people express how their faith motivates them to be better environmental stewards, only to be told by some environmentalists to leave faith out of it, and to be told by other believers that they’re on a slippery slope towards something new age-y.
But, from Vanessa Nakate to Katherine Hayhoe, some of the most important voices in climate science and advocacy today are speaking from an orientation of faith. I think telling somebody to ‘keep their religion out of it’ when those very beliefs are leading them towards environmental stewardship isn’t a good move.
We’re at a point where we need all hands on deck to take climate action, and 3/4ths of the world is religious to some extent. For so many people, faith would be the most effective driver of sustainable choices.
Thankfully, this tension is a lot more pronounced in the U.S. and the rest of the world has a little more nuance around this perspective. I’ve encountered so many communities in Latin America who sing hymns while restoring a forest, or churches in Africa that plant trees to commemorate holy events like a baptism.
Really, I wish the synergy between environmental stewardship and spiritual flourishing could be more widely experienced. Here are some of the best parallels I’ve encountered.
1) The physical world of creation has spiritual value.
In many circles of Christianity, there’s a sense of putting a greater value on unseen, spiritual things, at the cost of treating the physical world as unimportant. Sometimes the point gets emphasized over and over that the earth is temporary, and heaven is all that matters. Needless to say, it’s not a perspective that typically leads to a whole lot of environmental care.
The thing is, it’s just one perspective, and a rather young one at that. A more careful reading of scripture and earlier church interpretations place more emphasis on the restoration of earth as part of the ultimate story. From that perspective, not only does nature matter, but its healing is a central part of the story and people are meant to be involved.
The stronger emphasis on the spiritual world over the material one came out of a movement that struggled to accept Jesus’ non-duality as both human and divine. So, they played in favor of the divine, to the point of rejecting physical things as inferior and corrupted, and the non-material as holy. This movement did so to such an excess that it was ultimately deemed heresy. But that perspective still has an influence on many of our perceptions.
If you combine that with our natural uneasiness around death and interest in escapism, it’s easy to see why congregations en masse have more quickly adopted a ‘one day, we’ll leave it all behind’ approach.
But, nature has always had spiritual value. From a Christian perspective, the moral narrative goes from one garden to another. So much so that nature was often referred to as “God’s other book,” another way for God to self-reveal for humanity. From that vantage point, it makes knowledge and relationship with the sacred much more accessible to all people, regardless of location, background, or education.
2) It’s not about perfectionism.
Another helpful parallel between faith and environmentalism to me has been the understanding that it’s not a matter of perfect behaviors at an individual level. Though both are often presented that way at first glance.
So many people are introduced to faith and spirituality through a system of moral codes. Especially when you encounter it young and developing a more clear sense of right and wrong is helpful. Likewise, so many people are introduced to environmental action this way too.
There are certain behaviors that are good for the environment and some that are bad for the environment, and you ultimately want to be on Captain Planet’s team when the reckoning comes.
As you mature, you realize that it’s more sophisticated than that. Our environmental and moral choices are limited by the broader framework of what we’re born into. It’s hard to say our individual choices are morally correct when they take place in an economy and society built off of exploitation. It’s also virtually impossible to live a lifestyle that altogether lacks an environmental footprint.
And ultimately, even if we do get to the point of a really impressive individual report card, what’s the point? If the broad level, systemic stuff is unsolved, people and other living things will still suffer.
I’ve found growth… both spiritual growth and effectiveness as an environmental advocate, to not focus on doing everything picture perfect, but to instead be conscious of how my actions are affecting other people. It’s not an excuse to abandon all efforts to do better at an individual level, but an invitation to make sure that’s connected to a higher level of restoration.
Ultimately, I’ve found that asserting unrealistic standards of perfectionism is detrimental to both people’s spiritual growth and environmental behavior.
3) When we nurture creation, we are also taking care of our own souls.
This is wisdom straight from the mouth of rural farmers.
Our souls share the same source of life as creation. Biologically, they’re composed of the same materials, reassembled and reintegrated over time. To me, that means we have a connection to our natural world that we cannot really ignore. When we neglect it, it’s a bit like denying a part of ourselves.
One thing I advocate for is responding to environmental needs relationally, not transactionally. An example of a transactional response might be something like carbon offsetting, trading a loss in one area for a win in another. While these are capable of some good, they also fall way short of restoring balance to our ecological lives.
4) Our separateness is an illusion.
Finally, for me, the end point is always how we wind up connected. Our connection to each other runs so much deeper than any of us realize. I think even the most integrated, egoless sage has only scratched the surface of this.
As I get older, I get more comfortable saying I don’t know to more and more things… especially as my kids keep asking me bigger questions with no easy answers. However that’s also made me realize the places where I feel an increase in confidence. One of those areas is the belief that we are really, really connected.
I find this sentiment echoed throughout my spiritual life and the whispers of nature. In the end our lives are so intertwined that we can’t move a muscle without altering the course of others. It raises the stakes for just about everything we do, but also turns every moment into an invitation to lean into that unity and togetherness.
I’m a Christian, so I’m sure my spiritual vocabulary for things is most influenced by that, but I wanted to share these thoughts in a way for them to be most widely accessible. Also know, it’s a constant process of discovery, and right now is just one point in time.