Becoming Simple-Minded

Ah, you who join house to house, who add field to field, until there is room for no one but you,  and you are left to live alone in the midst of the land! The Lord of hosts has sworn in my hearing: Surely many houses shall be desolate, large and beautiful houses, without inhabitant. For ten acres of vineyard shall yield but one bath, and a homer of seed shall yield a mere ephah.  - Isaiah 5:8-10


As a follower of Christ I consider myself an apprentice to the Master, which means that not only do I believe in his teachings and his purpose, but I try to emulate his life to the best of my ability. Not the easiest thing in the world to do, but the spiritual life I've developed for myself is more about discipleship than membership. At least that's what I strive for, even though I've been known to trip and fall over my character defects.

Let's face it: one of the things Jesus excelled at was living the simple life. This was someone who said of himself, "the Son of Man has no place to lay his head" (Matt. 8:20). Homeless, with few belongings, wandering through the countryside, Jesus taught the virtues of love, patience, friendship, faithfulness, and most importantly, the message that the Reign of God was imminent.  This reign as preached by Jesus is a vision of a radical transformation of both humanity and human institutions so that they become visible expressions of the nature of God, which is a nature of mercy and justice. The reign of God is most clearly visible when its values are made manifest in the social relationships of God's people.

In case you're wondering what this has to do with farming a backyard garden, the answer is: plenty! Making a commitment to a way of life that is based on Jesus’ teachings of compassion, love, and service means embracing a way of living that does not conform to our profit-obsessed consumer culture, but rather frees us to enjoy a simpler, more compassionate lifestyle, and to contribute toward a more peaceful, socially just, healthier, and environmentally sustainable world.

Now that my hands are in the dirt every morning and most evenings, I have a close-up view of what it means to make choices to do violence to the land or to spare it from an onslaught of pollution.  The garden is alive! Worms wriggle in the dirt, fertilizing and mixing the soil, while birds carry off the seed they find. Squirrels bury nuts (and grab strawberries!), and ladybugs rest on the huge zucchini leaves. Of course, there are the pests: weeds, aphids, beetles, but instead of giving everything a blast of pesticide I just pick off the aphids, reinforce the anti-squirrel fencing, and pull the weeds by hand. This is my stewardship.

My goal is also to disconnect as much as possible from Big Food, where one company owns almost all the genetics of the worldwide corn and soybean crop and has bioengineered seeds so that they cannot be preserved, an act which has brought economic devastation to farmers in the developing world. Simplicity means being as responsible as possible for the food that is eaten in our household, and what better way to control the means of production than to raise it myself? Besides, with all the time and attention given to home-work, there is less money and time for being plugged into the consumer-driven culture that produces fleeting enjoyment while also ensnaring households in debt.

Here's a list of books compiled by a fellow blogger who writes about Christian simplicity, food, and the environment. I've read some, and some I intend to read. I hope you find the list useful.

Dirty theology

The single greatest lesson the garden teaches is that our relationship to the planet need not be zero sum, and that as long as the sun still shines and people still can plan and plant, think and do, we can, if we bother to try, find ways to provide for ourselves without diminishing the world. 

― Michael Pollan, The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals

It seems as though I've quickly moved from being a casual gardener with an interest in nice-looking flowers to getting serious and excited about the prospect of creating an urban homestead. Actually, I find this rather funny because I really am a city girl, and the idea of having anything more than a hobby garden is an idea which I've never seriously thought about before. I had a small veggie patch at my home in California, but it was never big enough to supply most of our household's produce. It was fun to beam over the few ripe tomatoes and peppers as if they were precious newborn babies, but I still had to get in my car and drive to the local farmer's market to make up for the tiny output. When we moved to Reno for a couple of years I didn't even bother trying to grow food since the soil is so poor, so it's been a long time since I've given food a try.

So what's changed? Well, for one thing, I love to read books and websites which push back against my Western, urban middle-class worldview, and Barbara Kingsolver's book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle began the process of tickling both my curiosity and conscience about how I have been living in a way that is really quite disconnected from creation. Since then, I have been profoundly influenced by reading Wendell Berry and Michael Pollan as well as a variety of websites that deal with issues such as sustainability, environmentalism, peak oil, and the locavore movement. This was all good and valuable reading, but I still hadn't gotten my hands in the dirt.

Ultimately, what moved me from thought to action, and from hobby to the stirrings of a new lifestyle, was theology. I am an Episcopal priest and parish minister, and although I am not a professional theologian by training I believe that thinking theologically is an important lens for any person of faith who wishes to view their life and their surroundings in a new context. There are serious theological conversations to be had on the issues of simple living, sustainability, food justice, and humanity's relationship to the rest of creation. These are the topics to which I return in both my reading and prayer life as now I now plunge my hands into the rich soil of southeastern Michigan.

In the next few posts I will take up each of these issues individually. I hope that you will join in the conversation.