Exploring water, stewardship, and environmental responsibility through my life and Islamic lens
By Roland Swank, Summer intern
As I’m writing this, I’m about to begin my second year at Grinnell College. I’ve lived in Jakarta, Indonesia; Cebu, Philippines; and Denver, Colorado, before coming to Grinnell, Iowa. It wasn’t until this summer began that I started reflecting on how climate change has affected each of these places in different ways. Looking back, I realize now that every community I have called home has experienced its own environmental challenges, making this work feel much more personal and meaningful to me.
My involvement with Iowa Faith & Climate Network began after my friend Shah and I attended their annual climate conference, Called To Climate Action, with Rev. Cassandra Lawrence, Associate Chaplain at Grinnell College’s Center for Religion, Spirituality, and Social Justice (CRSSJ). Shah and I are very active at CRSSJ and had received an email invitation to the conference. During the event, we learned about how different faith traditions—particularly Christian and Catholic perspectives—approach climate change. As a few presenters reflected on Bible verses and connected them to today’s environmental challenges, I found myself wondering: What does Islam have to say about climate? I wanted to explore that deeper.
The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said, “The world is sweet and green, and Allah has appointed you as stewards over it” (Sahih Muslim). This teaching reflects a broader Islamic understanding of the natural world as a blessing and a trust. Throughout the Qur’an and Sunnah, water, plants, animals, and food are described as signs of God’s creation that deserve gratitude and responsible care. Islam encourages humans to act as khalifah (stewards) of the Earth, using its resources wisely while avoiding waste and excess. These teachings shaped my interest in exploring the connection between Islam and environmental stewardship.
After the conference, we met with Irene and Tim and asked whether there were any internship opportunities available. Thanks to funding through Grinnell’s Center for Careers, Life, and Service we were able to! All of this led to this summer where I had the opportunity to intentionally explore what Islam teaches about climate change for the first time and reflect on the impacts climate change and environmental degradation has had on my life.
One of my earliest environmental memories was learning that palm oil production contributes to deforestation in Indonesia, destroying the habitats of endangered orangutans. Even as a child, I understood that something as ordinary as the products we buy could have significant consequences for forests and wildlife.
In fifth grade, I participated in a Manila film festival with several friends. Together, we created a short film about climate change, focusing specifically on plastic and trash pollution and how it harms marine life. Our project won in our age category, and it was one of the first times I had the opportunity to think critically about environmental issues and communicate them to others.
Another memory comes from spending summers in Indonesia, particularly in Malang, where my mother and her family are originally from, as well as Jakarta, another place where I grew up. One morning in Malang, I walked with my grandfather to dispose of our household trash. We carried it to a large dug-up area near a river where waste from the surrounding neighborhood was collected.
I do not remember exactly what happened afterward, but I believe much of the trash was eventually burned. More than anything, I remember seeing litter scattered throughout parts of Jakarta, where I also spent significant time growing up. At the time, these scenes felt normal because they were part of the environment I was familiar with. Looking back, they highlight the challenges many communities face in managing waste and the importance of developing more sustainable systems.
When I moved from the Philippines to the United States at age fifteen, I noticed a different approach to environmental stewardship in many households. My grandmother and other family members regularly separated recyclables, compost, and landfill waste. My uncle even maintained a compost system that used worms to break down organic material, while my grandmother kept a garden. Gardening was also common among my grandparents in Indonesia, but I became much more aware of practices like composting and waste separation after moving to the United States.
As I grew older, I began to think about these practices through the Islamic concept of niyyah, or intention. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said, “Actions are but by intentions, and each man will have but that which he intended” (Sunan an-Nasa’i 3437). This made me think about how intention gives meaning to even our most ordinary actions. Prayer, for example, is not simply a matter of standing, bowing, and prostrating with our limbs; we must know which prayer we are performing and consciously intend it in our hearts. Similarly, when making wuḍūʾ, we do not simply wash our hands, face, arms, and feet—we approach the act with an intention of spiritual purification.
After arriving in Iowa, I learned about another environmental challenge much closer to home. Iowa has faced significant concerns regarding nitrate contamination in its waterways, with some communities experiencing elevated nitrate levels in drinking water. These issues have raised concerns about water quality and potential health risks including cancer. Learning about these issues made me think about my own use of water. In Islam, Muslims perform wudu (ritual ablution) to enter a state of ritual purity, making it permissible to perform the five daily prayers, touch the Qur’an, and perform tawaf around the Kaaba (done during Hajj and at other times.) Since wudu is broken after using the restroom and in certain other situations, I often renew it several times throughout the day, which increases the amount of water I use.
The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught that water should not be wasted, even when performing ablution beside a flowing river. This made me think not only about water quality but also about water conservation. It also reinforced a belief I have always had: we should value quality over excess and avoid unnecessary consumption. That reflection ultimately led me to focus my internship on reducing water use during wudu.
Now living in Iowa, I began thinking about how much water is used to support our patterns of consumption, particularly in agriculture and food production. We often use enormous amounts of water to sustain food production while also wasting significant portions of what is produced. In the United States, approximately 31%—or 133 billion pounds—of the available food supply at the retail and consumer levels went uneaten in 2010, representing an estimated $161.6 billion worth of wasted food. At the same time, millions of people around the world still lack reliable access to clean water. According to the World Health Organization and UNICEF, 1 in 4 people globally—approximately 2.1 billion people—still lack access to safely managed drinking water, including 106 million people who rely directly on untreated surface water sources. Seeing this contrast between overconsumption and scarcity made me reflect on the importance of using resources more responsibly. Water is not simply a resource for our convenience; it is a blessing and responsibility that requires gratitude, moderation, and care.
These experiences—from Indonesia and the Philippines to Colorado and Iowa—have shown me that environmental problems take many forms. Whether it is deforestation, waste management, food systems, or water quality, each issue reflects the relationship between people, communities, and the natural world. Before exploring possible solutions, it is important to understand the problems themselves and why they matter.
Environmental degradation has serious consequences for both human health and ecosystems. In Indonesia, open burning of household waste releases fine particulate matter, black carbon, and carbon monoxide that contribute to respiratory and cardiovascular diseases while accelerating climate change. In the Philippines, more than 164 million sachets, 48 million shopping bags, and 45 million plastic film bags are used every day, while the Pasig River alone carries nearly 63,000 tonnes of plastic waste into Manila Bay each year. The country’s 7,600+ islands also make waste management especially difficult, increasing plastic pollution and microplastic contamination in seafood.
Agricultural pollution also threatens environmental and human health. Heavy pesticide use contaminates soil and waterways, contributes to biodiversity loss, and is linked to chronic illnesses including cancer, respiratory disease, and neurological disorders. In Iowa, 85% of the state’s land is used for agriculture, allowing nitrate runoff to contaminate drinking water. Research has found health risks at nitrate concentrations as low as 2 mg/L, even though the federal standard is 10 mg/L, with links to cancer, birth defects, thyroid disease, and blue baby syndrome. Meanwhile, the 1,450-mile Colorado River supplies water to 40 million people, seven U.S. states, more than 25 Native American tribes, and parts of Mexico, but climate change is reducing its flow through increased evaporation and declining snowpack.
A big part of this internship, and something I am especially grateful for, was the time I was given to learn the foundations of Islam and environmental stewardship. I have come to realize how important a foundation is before we can build anything meaningful. In Islam, that foundation is our understanding of why we are here in the first place. Allah says, “I did not create jinn and humans except to worship Me” (Qur’an 51:56). And Allah also reminds us that He “created death and life to test you [as to] which of you is best in deed” (Qur’an 67:2). This life is therefore not simply something we pass through; it is a test and an opportunity to increase in good deeds, with the understanding that our actions ultimately matter in the Hereafter. Learning these foundations during my internship helped me see environmental stewardship not as something separate from my faith, but as one way I can live out those principles.
One of the most meaningful things I heard from an imam during a conversation about this was, “Why are you trying to find a soul mate when you have to work on your soul, mate?” That line has stayed with me. In Islam, so much begins with what is happening within us. When we work toward a sound and purified heart, that inner work begins to extend into everything we do. We start to see things more clearly, act with greater sincerity, and do good not simply because we are expected to or because it looks good on paper, but because we genuinely believe it is right. That is how I hope to approach environmental justice. I do not want caring for the environment to become a side hustle, a résumé line, or something I do simply for points or recognition. I want it to come from a sincere intention to care for the creation Allah has entrusted to us.
As Muslims, we believe that even the smallest of our actions matter; the Qur’an tells us that “whoever does an atom’s weight of good will see it” (Qur’an 99:7). Our intention is ultimately to seek the pleasure of Allah, and we hope that through our efforts, we can become people worthy of His good pleasure. Holding onto that belief gives me hope. It reminds me that meaningful change does not begin only with policies or institutions, but also with the hearts and intentions of the people who choose to act. If we nurture those hearts and build on a strong foundation of faith, I believe we can turn even the smallest acts of stewardship into part of something much larger: a life spent doing good, serving our communities, caring for Allah’s creation, and leaving the world better for the generations that come after us.
I believe that recognizing the beauty of creation helps us cultivate gratitude and reminds us of our responsibility to care for the world around us.
