Reflections on praying about the Exxon Valdez oil spill

The circumstances surrounding this most recent oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico may be different from those of the Exxon Valdez oil spill in the 1980s, but, for me, they’ve brought up similar feelings and that desire to be of service that I had over 20 years ago.

While vacationing in Utah at the end of March 1989, I heard the news that the Exxon Valdez, an oil tanker en route to California, had run into a reef and was spilling millions of gallons of crude oil into what was to me the most beautiful place on Earth, Prince William Sound, Alaska. I was devastated. This ended my vacation. (I lived and worked in Anchorage, and “played” in Prince William Sound.)

Once I began to try to listen to God, my sense of loss and anger began to give way to the question: Why!? This concern for all the people and wildlife involved was a start, but even after a few days, I still struggled to get sleep and lacked any sense that progress was possible. I avoided the drama of broadcast news but still caught glimpses of piles of dead animals and oil-smothered shoreline from the print media.

I called a friend who I knew had struggled extensively with environmental sadness and yet maintained a cheerful countenance and outlook. I knew I needed to share in her view of humanity that allowed her to be productive and caring in spite of outrageous human folly. (It was also later discovered that there was a lack of oversight and negligence on the part of the Valdez’s captain.)

My friend had studied Christian Science for years and worked to change the world by helping people see from a spiritual perspective. She directed me to the description of “man” found in the Glossary of Science and Health—man as “the compound idea of infinite Spirit” (p. 591 ). I could see here that a compound idea is inclusive of all creation. As I pondered this profound idea, my entire view of self, events underway at my home in Alaska, and ultimately my cynical view of humanity, yielded to hope. I found that the source of my anger was housed in the mistaken notion that God and His creation exist in the objects of nature–a system of thought called pantheism.

I also found that I’d subscribed to the belief that Earth came first and people second–that humans were more like a weed displacing the rest of God’s creation; I was basically believing people are innately evil.

Through prayer, my mistaken set of values yielded to the principle that man, as a “compound idea,” allows all creation to share in the Bible promise of pure spiritual identity, free of either mundane or dramatic physical circumstance. This knowledge came through prayer and revelation, not my understanding of ecology. I could glimpse the world as it is spiritually, not as it seems to be materially.

Coming from God, this knowledge didn’t ignore the suffering experienced by others, but rooted my peace in the depths of divine Soul rather than in the fickleness of environmental conditions or politics of that moment. This more grounded, spiritual perspective offered what I felt was the best hope of being helpful.

These insights into human and environmental identity transformed my struggle. The oil spill was no longer a story about a reckless captain, an “evil” corporation, and outrageous destruction of wilderness. It was about how we (my community and I) don’t always think correctly about our posterity–all future generations and our neighbors.

It became clear that humanity’s lack of preparedness for environmental catastrophe often stems from blind faith in technological development rather than spiritual salvation–the belief that technology can always save us. Sometimes we even mistakenly feel that better technology can offer an easy way around obedience to Jesus’ commandment to love your neighbor as yourself.

By dealing with this oil spill on a metaphysical level, I found that spiritual answers offered a safe foundation for action when there were no technical solutions to the spill other than being more careful in the future.

I’ve since seen this mistaken ideology--that technology can solve every problem–in many arenas in life: from the push for invasive medical treatment, to modern warfare, pollution, and climate change. In each case technology often falsely promises ease and requires us to spend money rather than change core values.

Technology, when misused, can become a false god like food, exercise, or money. I can say from experience that heeding false gods throws life out of whack. Deification of technology (petroleum, nuclear, microchip, biomedical, etc.) is pantheism of a different sort and ignores the supremacy of God’s creation.

There were marked changes in my life as these prayers and insights permeated my actions. Prior to the spill, I placed less value in my human relationships and put my efforts into being in the woods and away from people. I realized that this isolationism was a problem. It compartmentalized creation, denying the divine ecology where man is a unified “compound idea.” Second, it violated Jesus’ command to love your neighbor.

I was in graduate school at the time of the Exxon Valdez spill, and my classmates and friends knew how much I loved Prince William Sound. Although they asked lots of questions about the spill and expressed much distress over it, I never felt compelled to engage in angry, resentful, or hateful dialogue about the situation. I realized that the best way I could restore the beaches and protect the environment was to be a part of purifying thought about the spill. This meant challenging the hatred and sense of helplessness.

As I continued to pray, I could actually see that people trying to clean up the mess were sincere. At one point, I wrote a letter to the Exxon executive in charge of the clean-up. I shared my sadness and also my discovery about the hope for a change in our collective thought for our environment. He promptly sent back a handwritten note, thanking me and sharing more ideas about how all of his employees were in a position to be a part of that change. He emphasized that this was likely the most valuable aspect of his efforts as a cleanup coordinator.

There are certainly many aspects of the spill that continue to be unresolved, including financial ramifications for many families as well as pollution deep down in the beaches and the floor of the ocean. But the transformation of my thinking about humanity and the environment led me to pursue a 12-day course known as Christian Science Primary class instruction immediately after these discoveries. It impelled me to consider human relationships as an important part of spiritual progress–eventually leading me into marriage and fatherhood.

Now, 21 years later, I get to spend my summer vacations on Prince William Sound with my family. Reckoning with the Alaska oil spill transformed the way I think. I began to see myself more as part of a universal community instead of separate and solitary. This was an example of gaining spiritual maturity through prayer and letting its effects ripple out to others. I’ve found that prayer is a substantial resource that’s available to each of us. It’s the best tool for guiding action and maintaining our environment.