I am a new convert to the fastest growing religion in the 21st century: environmentalism. But the vast majority of my fellow believers are in hiding, reluctant to be identified, unwilling to be stereotyped.

I can understand the reluctance because, as a Christian, I am equally reluctant to share my Christian beliefs because of what may be inferred, misinterpreted and assumed. Some will picture Jim Jones types or believe that I am anti-feminist, a political Conservative, or a Bible-thumping believer.

In fact, I am none of those, nor need to be in order to devoutly follow my faith.

Who is the god of this new religion of environmentalism? Some would say Mother Nature or even Gaia. It does not seem to matter because respect rather than worship is the core of this religion, as we are both the followers and the creators of the Earth's destiny.

We environmentalists believe in the interdependence and interconnectedness of nature; in living simply; and in the ongoing apocalyptic destruction of the Earth, when the Earth will retaliate one day with fire and brimstone (or global warming) to pass holy judgment on humankind.

We heed the preaching of our religion's mainstream gurus such as Edward O. Wilson, David Suzuki and Maurice Strong. Our enemies are those who reject the urgent message of change. To the fundamentalist environmentalists, heretics include Bjorn Lomborg and what some consider his blasphemous publication, The Skeptical Environmentalist, and Alberta Premier Ralph Klein for his apparent lack of foresight.

Like our religious counterparts, tradition is an identifying factor for the followers of environmentalism. The followers, full of faith, believe that subscribing to these practices is both penance and atonement. Just as worship rituals are not isolated to Sunday liturgy in a church building, environmentalism is not only about gathering together in united protest, lifting hands with picket signs, and singing angry chants in unison. It is the many other customs, such as recycling, reusing and conserving, that make it a religion of lifestyle.

The most fundamental custom we follow is called recycling. We spend moments of meditation sorting rubbish into blue bins. Another custom is conservation. Abstinence and self-denial are key because waste is the original sin, passed on to the children in the form of a polluted world.

Followers must conserve energy and water, as well as sacrifice financial harvest. Our sacrifices go beyond the here and now as we aspire for perpetual reward, and this reward is a home for many generations to come.

Financial commitment is another customary indicator of faithfulness. Tithing goes to green products that typically are more financially demanding but spiritually satisfying. Energy-saving light bulbs and reusable products are bought; water efficient showerheads and solar panels are installed. Some even tithe to the environmental organizations that most closely resemble the practice of their faith.

Although fundamentally united, our religion is sectarian. There are, for example, the militant environmentalists, encompassing the sensationalized Greenpeace with well-publicized green crusades and in-your-face evangelism that have accelerated the movement by bringing us the voice in the desert. Greenpeace has introduced the environmentalist world-view and created a path for others to follow their practices. Unfortunately, some such followers have polarized the term environmentalist and intimidated the less-perfect into feeling less worthy. Fundamentalists accept only perfection, and little grace is given to the sinners.

Others of us have adopted a Trinitarian approach: the triple-bottom-line. We are the moderate environmentalists. Sustainability is our messiah and education is our evangelistic method. We faithful practitioners hesitate to call ourselves environmentalists, but we clearly are converts because we cannot deny that our fundamental cause is identical to the militant environmentalists' cause. Yet, because our strategic and evangelistic methods are different from the thunderous gloom-and-doom militants, we squirm at the label environmentalist.

Just as Martin Luther paved the way for the Reformation, moderate environmentalists have broadened the base of environmentalism. The label no longer refers to the stigmatized bad-news hippie-type prophets; it also includes the majority of practitioners who quietly do their part to make changes. We may prove to be the most powerful force in the environmental movement.

This is the cause of my conversion to environmentalism. It is a religion about attitudes, particularly respect. It is about believing that my lifestyle choices make a difference. It is about believing in humanity's need to respond with compassion to the Earth's cry.

Next time I come across an environmentalist, instead of looking for the Greenpeace tattoo on his forehead, I will give him a pat on the back and see kin.

Angela Padilla lives in Vancouver.